OF  THE 

U  N  I  VERS  ITY 
Of  ILLINOIS 
From  the  Library  of 

Dr.  R.  E.  Hieronymus 
1942 

<2)4.4.04- 

C10 


CONTENTS 


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THE  BASTILLE. 

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DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

Chapter  Page 

I.  Louis  the  Well-Beloved .  3 

II.  Realized  Ideals .  7 

Viaticum . 17 

IV.  Louis  the  Unforgotten . 20 

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THE  PAPER  AGE. 

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I.  Astr^a  Redux . 28 

II.  Petition  in  Hieroglyphs . 34 

HI.  Questionable . 36 

Vy  ' 

IV.  Maurepas . 40 

V.  Astr^ia  Redux  without  Cash  i . 44 

VI.  Wind-Bags . 48 

J  VII.  Contrat  Social . 52 

VIII.  Printed  Paper  . 55 


CONTENTS 


Book  III. 

THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


Chapter  Page 

I.  Dishonored  Bills . • . 61 

II.  Controller  Calonne . 66 

III.  The  Notables . 69 

IV.  Lomenie’s  Edicts . 78 

V.  Lomenie’s  Thunderbolts . 83 

VI.  Lomenie’s  Plots . 87 

VII.  Internecine . 92 

VIII.  Lomenie’s  Death-Throes . 98 

IX.  Burial  with  Bonfire . 108 


Book  IV. 

STATES-GENERAL. 


I.  The  Notables  again . 113 

II.  The  Election . 118 

III.  Grown  Electric . 125 

IV.  The  Procession  . 129 


Book  V. 

THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 


I.  Inertia . 147 

II.  Mercury  de  Breze . 156 

III.  Broglie  the  War-God . 163 

IV.  To  Arms  ! . 169 

V.  Give  us  Arms . 174 

VI.  Storm  and  Victory . 181 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

VII.  Not  a  Revolt . .  .  190 

VIII.  Conquering  your  King . 194 

IX.  The  Lanterne . 198 


Book  VI. 

CONSOLIDATION. 


I.  Make  the  Constitution . 204 

II.  The  Constituent  Assembly . 210 

III.  The  General  Overturn . 215 

IV.  In  Queue . 224 

V.  The  Fourth  Estate . 227 


Book  VII. 

THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 


I.  Patrollotism . 231 

II.  0  Richard,  O  my  King  ! . 235 

III.  Black  Cockades . 240 

IV.  The  Menads . 242 

V.  Usher  Maillard . 245 

VI.  To  Versailles . 251 

VII.  At  Versailles . 255 

VIII.  The  Equal  Diet . 259 

IX.  Lafayette  . 264 

X.  The  Grand  Entries .  268 

■  XI.  From  Versailles . 273 


CONTENTS. 


THE  CONSTITUTION. 

Boafc  VIH. 

THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Chapter  Page 

L  To  the  Tuileries . .  ,  280 

II.  In  the  Salle  de  Manege . 284 

III.  The  Muster . 296 

IY.  Journalism . 303 

Y.  Clubbism .  307  * 

VI.  JE  LE  JURE . 311 

VII.  Prodigies . 315 

VIII.  Solemn  League  and  Covenant . 318 

XI.  Symbolic . 324 

X.  Mankind . 326 

XI.  As  in  the  Age  of  Gold . 331 

XII.  Sound  and  Smoke . 337 


Book  IX. 

NANCI. 


I.  Bouille . 345 

II.  Arrears  and  Aristocrats . 347 

III.  Bouille  at  Metz . 354 

IV.  Arrears  at  Nanci . 357 

V.  Inspector  Malseigne . 362 

VI.  Bouille  at  Nanci . 366 


CONTENTS.  vii 

Book  X. 

THE  TUILERIES. 

Chapter  Page 

I.  Epimenides . 376 

II.  The  Wakeful . 381 

III.  Sword  in  Hand . 387 

IY.  To  Ely  or  Not  to  Ely . 393 

Y.  The  Day  of  Poniards . 401 

VI.  Mirabeau . 408 

VII.  Death  of  Mirabeau . 412 


{*  +0*. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE  ERENCH  REVOLUTION.  VOL.  I. 


Louis  XVI . Frontispiece 

Lomenie  de  Brienne . •  .  .  .  77 

The  Little  Trianon . 93 

Robespierre . 139 

Mirabeau  and  Deux  Breze  . . 161 

Lafayette . 393 


THE  ERENCH  REVOLUTION.  VOL.  II. 


Marie  Antoinette . 55 

Santerre . 113 

Danton . 169 

Barere . 245 

Charlotte  Cord  ay . 311 

Saint  Just . 333 

Tallien . 419 

Robespierre  wounded  and  arrested . 425 


THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION: 

A  HISTOKY 

IN  TWENTY  BOOKS. 


THE  BASTILLE. 

[1837.] 


# 


VOL.  III. 


1 


THE  BASTILLE. 


— - ♦ 

BOOK  I. 

DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

- • - 

CHAPTEE  I. 

LOUIS  THE  WELL-BELOVED. 

President  Henault,  remarking  on  royal  Surnames  of 
Honor  how  difficult  it  often  is  to  ascertain  not  only  why,  but 
even  when,  they  were  conferred,  takes  occasion,  in  his  sleek 
official  way,  to  make  a  philosophical  reflection.  “The  Sur¬ 
name  of  Bien-aime  (Well-beloved)/7  says  he,  “which  Louis 
XV.  bears,  will  not  leave  posterity  in  the  same  doubt.  This 
Prince,  in  the  year  1744,  while  hastening  from  one  end  of  his 
kingdom  to  the  other,  and  suspending  his  conquests  in  Flan¬ 
ders  that  he  might  fly  to  the  assistance  of  Alsace,  was  arrested 
at  Metz  by  a  malady  which  threatened  to  cut  short  his  days. 
At  the  news  of  this,  Paris,  all  in  terror,  seemed  a  city  taken 
by  storm :  the  churches  resounded  with  supplications  and 
groans ;  the  prayers  of  priests  and  people  were  every  moment 
interrupted  by  their  sobs. :  and  it  was  from  an  interest  so  dear 
and  tender  that  this  Surname  of  Bien-aime  fashioned  itself,  — 
a  title  higher  still  than  all  the  rest  which  this  great  Prince 
has  earned.77 1 

So  stands  it  written  ;  in  lasting  memorial  of  that  year  1744. 
Thirty  other  years  have  come  and  gone  ;  and  “  this  great 


1  Alrigi  Chronologique  de  VHistoire  de  France  (Paris,  1775),  p.  701. 


4  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1744-74. 

Prince  ”  again  lies  sick ;  but  in  how  altered  circumstances 
now  !  Churches  resound  not  with  excessive  groanings  ;  Paris 
is  stoically  calm :  sobs  interrupt  no  prayers,  for  indeed  none 
are  offered ;  except  Priests’  Litanies,  read  or  chanted  at  fixed 
money-rate  per  hour,  which  are  not  liable  to  interruption.  The 
shepherd  of  the  people  has  been  carried  home  from  Little  Tri¬ 
anon,  heavy  of  heart,  and  been  put  to  bed  in  his  own  Chateau 
of  Versailles :  the  flock  knows  it,  and  heeds  it  not.  At  most,  in 
the  immeasurable  tide  of  French  Speech  (which  ceases  not  day 
after  day,  and  only  ebbs  towards  the  short  hours  of  night), 
may  this  of  the  royal  sickness  emerge  from  time  to  time  as 
an  article  of  news.  Bets  are  doubtless  depending ;  nay,  some 
people  “  express  themselves  loudly  in  the  streets.”  1  But  for 
the  rest,  on  green  field  and  steepled  city,  the  May  sun  shines 
out,  the  May  evening  fades;  and  men  ply  their  useful  or 
useless  business  as  if  no  Louis  lay  in  danger. 

Dame  Dubarry,  indeed,  might  pray,  if  she  had  a  talent  for 
it;  Duke  d’Aiguillon  too,  Maupeou  and  the  Parlement  Mau- 
peou :  these,  as  they  sit  in  their  high  places,  with  France 
harnessed  under  their  feet,  know  well  on  what  basis  they 
continue  there.  Look  to  it,  D’Aiguillon;  sharply  as  thou 
didst,  from  the  Mill  of  St.  Cast,  on  Quiberon  and  the  invad¬ 
ing  English ;  thou,  “  covered  if  not  with  glory  yet  with  meal !  ” 
Fortune  was  ever  accounted  inconstant :  and  each  dog  has  but 
his  day. 

Forlorn  enough  languished  Duke  d’Aiguillon,  some  years 
ago ;  covered,  as  we  said,  with  meal ;  nay  with  worse.  For 
La  Chalotais,  the  Breton  Parlementeer,  accused  him  not  only 
of  poltroonery  and  tyranny,  but  even  of  concussion  (official 
plunder  of  money) ;  which  accusations  it  was  easier  to  get 
“  quashed  ”  by  backstairs  Influences  than  to  get  answered : 
neither  could  the  thoughts,  or  even  the  tongues,  of  men  be 
tied.  Thus,  under  disastrous  eclipse,  had  this  grand-nephew 
of  the  great  Richelieu  to  glide  about ;  unworshipped  by  the 
world;  resolute  Choiseul,  the  abrupt  proud  man,  disdaining 
him,  or  even  forgetting  him.  Little  prospect  but  to  glide 


1  Memoires  de  M.  le  Baron  Besenval  (Paris,  1805),  ii.  59-90. 


Chap.  I.  LOUIS  THE  WELL-BELOVED.  5 

1744-74. 

into  Gascony,  to  rebuild  Chateaus  there,1  and  die  inglorious 
killing  game  !  However,  in  the  year  1770,  a  certain  young 
soldier,  Dumouriez  by  name,  returning  from  Corsica,  could 
see  “  with  sorrow,  at  Compiegne,  the  old  King  of  France,  on 
foot,  with  doffed  hat,  in  sight  of  his  army,  at  the  side  of  a 
magnificent  phaeton,  doing  homage  to  the  —  Dubarry.”  2 
Much  lay  therein  !  Thereby,  for  one  thing,  could  D’Aiguil- 
lon  postpone  the  rebuilding  of  his  Chateau,  and  rebuild  his 
fortunes  first.  For  stout  Choiseul  would  discern  in  the  Du¬ 
barry  nothing  but  a  wonderfully  dizened  Scarlet-woman ;  and 
go  on  his  way  as  if  she  were  not.  Intolerable  :  the  source 
of  sighs,  tears,  of  pettings  and  poutings  ;  which  would  not 
end  till  “  France  ”  (La  France,  as  she  named  her  royal  valet) 
finally  mustered  heart  to  see  Choiseul ;  and  with  that  “  quiver¬ 
ing  in  the  chin  (tremblement  du  menton )”  natural  in  such  case,3 
faltered  out  a  dismissal :  dismissal  of  his  last  substantial  man, 
but  pacification  of  his  scarlet-woman.  Thus  D’Aiguillon  rose 
again,  and  culminated.  And  with  him  there  rose  Maupeou, 
the  banisher  of  Parlements ;  who  plants  you  a  refractory 
President  “at  Croe  in  Combrailles  on  the  top  of  steep  rocks, 
inaccessible  except  by  litters,”  there  to  consider  himself. 
Likewise  there  rose  Abbe  Terray,  dissolute  Financier,  paying 
eightpence  in  the  shilling,  —  so  that  wits  exclaim  in  some 
press  at  the  playhouse,  “Where  is  Abbe  Terray,  that  he 
might  reduce  us  to  two-thirds  !  ”  And  so  have  these  indi¬ 
viduals  (verily  by  black-art)  built  them  a  Domdaniel,  or  en¬ 
chanted  Dubarrydom ;  call  it  an  Armida-Palace,  where  they 
dwell  pleasantly ;  Chancellor  Maupeou  “  playing  blind-man’s- 
buff  ”  with  the  scarlet  Enchantress  ;  or  gallantly  presenting 
her  with  dwarf  Negroes;  —  and  a  Most  Christian  King  has 
unspeakable  peace  within  doors,  whatever  he  may  have  with¬ 
out.  “  My  Chancellor  is  a  scoundrel ;  but  I  cannot  do  without 
him.”  4 

1  Arthur  Young:  Travels  during  the  years  1787-89  (Bury  St.  Edmunds, 
1792),  i.  44. 

2  La  Vie  et  les  Memoires  du  General  Dumouriez  (Paris,  1822),  i.  141. 

8  Besenval :  Memoires,  ii.  21. 

*  Dulaure:  Histoire  de  Paris  (Paris,  1824),  vii.  328. 


6  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1744-74. 

Beautiful  Armida-Palace,  where  the  inmates  live  enchanted 
lives ;  lapped  in  soft  music  of  adulation ;  waited  on  by  the 
splendors  of  the  world  ;  —  which  nevertheless  hangs  won- 
drously  as  by  a  single  hair.  Should  the  Most  Christian  King 
die  j  or  even  get  seriously  afraid  of  dying  !  For,  alas,  had 
not  the  fair  haughty  Chateauroux  to  fly,  with  wet  cheeks  and 
flaming  heart,  from  that  Fever-scene  at  Metz,  long  since  ; 
driven  forth  by  sour  shavelings  ?  She  hardly  returned,  when 
fever  and  shavelings  were  both  swept  into  the  background. 
Pompadour  too,  when  Damiens  wounded  Koyalty  “  slightly, 
under  the  fifth  rib,”  and  our  drive  to  Trianon  went  off  futile, 
in  shrieks  and  madly  shaken  torches,  —  had  to  pack,  and  be 
in  readiness  :  yet  did  not  go,  the  wound  not  proving  poisoned. 
For  his  Majesty  has  religious  faith  :  believes,  at  least  in  a 
Devil.  And  now  a  third  peril ;  and  who  knows  what  may  be 
in  it !  For  the  Doctors  look  grave ;  ask  privily,  If  his  Majesty 
had  not  the  small-pox  long  ago  ?  —  and  doubt  it  may  have 
been  a  false  kind.  Yes,  Maupeou,  pucker  those  sinister  brows 
of  thine,  and  peer  out  on  it  with  thy  malign  rat-eyes :  it  is 
a  questionable  case.  Sure  only  that  man  is  mortal ;  that  with 
the  life  of  one  mortal  snaps  irrevocably  the  wonderfulest  talis¬ 
man,  and  all  Dubarrydom  rushes  off,  with  tumult,  into  infinite 
Space  ;  and  ye,  as  subterranean  Apparitions  are  wont,  vanish 
utterly,  —  leaving  only  a  smell  of  sulphur  ! 

These,  and  what  holds  of  these  may  pray,  —  to  Beelzebub, 
or  whoever  will  hear  them.  But  from  the  rest  of  France  there 
comes,  as  was  said,  no  prayer ;  or  one  of  an  opposite  character, 
“  expressed  openly  in  the  streets.”  Chateau  or  Hotel,  where 
an  enlightened  Philosophism  scrutinizes  many  things,  is  not 
given  to  prayer:  neither  are  Bossbach  victories,  Terray  Fi¬ 
nances,  nor,  say  only  “  sixty  thousand  Lettres  -  de  -  Cachet  ” 
(which  is  Maupeou’s  share),  persuasives  towards  that.  0  He- 
nault !  Prayers  ?  From  a  France  smitten  (by  black-art)  with 
plague  after  plague,  and  lying  now,  in  shame  and  pain,  with  a 
Harlot’s  foot  on  its  neck,  what  prayer  can  come  ?  Those  lank 
scarecrows,  that  prowl  hunger-stricken  through  all  highways 
and  byways  of  French  Existence,  will  they  pray  ?  The  dull 


Chap.  II.  REALIZED  IDEALS.  7 

1744-74. 

millions  that,  in  the  workshop  or  furrow-field,  grind  foredone 
at  the  wheel  of  Labor,  like  haltered  gin-horses,  if  blind  so 
much  the  quieter  ?  Or  they  that  in  the  Bieetre  Hospital, 
“  eight  to  a  bed,”  lie  waiting  their  manumission  ?  Dim  are 
those  heads  of  theirs,  dull  stagnant  those  hearts :  to  them 
the  great  Sovereign  is  known  mainly  as  the  great  Regrater  of 
Bread.  If  they  hear  of  his  sickness,  they  will  answer  with  a 
dull  Tant  pis  pour  lui ;  or  with  the  question,  Will  he  die  ? 

Yes,  will  he  die  ?  that  is  now,  for  all  France,  the  grand 
question,  and  hope ;  whereby  alone  the  King’s  sickness  has 
still  some  interest. 


- * - 

CHAPTER  II. 

REALIZED  IDEALS. 

Such  a  changed  France  have  we ;  and  a  changed  Louis. 
Changed,  truly ;  and  further  than  thou  yet  seest !  —  To  the 
eye  of  History  many  things,  in  that  sick-room  of  Louis,  are 
now  visible,  which  to  the  Courtiers  there  present  were  in¬ 
visible.  For  indeed  it  is  well  said,  “  in  every  object  there  is 
inexhaustible  meaning ;  the  eye  sees  in  it  what  the  eye  brings 
means  of  seeing.”  To  Newton  and  to  Newton’s  Dog  Diamond, 
what  a  different  pair  of  Universes  ;  while  the  painting  on  the 
optical  retina  of  both  was,  most  likely,  the  same  !  Let  the 
Reader  here,  in  this  sick-room  of  Louis,  endeavor  to  look  with 
the  mind  too. 

Time  was  when  men  could  (so  to  speak)  of  a  given  man,  by 
nourishing  and  decorating  him  with  fit  appliances,  to  the  due 
pitch,  make  themselves  a  King,  almost  as  the  Bees  do ;  and 
what  was  still  more  to  the  purpose,  loyally  obey  him  when 
made.  The  man  so  nourished  and  decorated,  thenceforth 
named  royal,  does  verily  bear  rule ;  and  is  said,  and  even 
thought,  to  be,  for  example,  “  prosecuting  conquests  in  Flan¬ 
ders,”  when  he  lets  himself  like  luggage  be  carried  thither : 
and  no  light  luggage  ;  covering  miles  of  road.  For  he  has  his 


8  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1744-74. 

unblushing  Ch&teauroux,  with  her  bandboxes  and  rouge-pots, 
at  his  side  ;  so  that,  at  every  new  station,  a  wooden  gallery 
must  be  run  up  between  their  lodgings.  He  has  not  only  his 
Maison-Bouche,  and  Valetaille  without  end,  but  his  very  Troop 
of  Players,  with  their  pasteboard  coulisses,  thunder-barrels, 
their  kettles,  fiddles,  stage- wardrobes,  portable  larders  (and 
chaffering  and  quarrelling  enough)  ;  all  mounted  in  wagons, 
tumbrils,  second-hand  chaises,  —  sufficient  not  to  conquer  Flan¬ 
ders,  but  the  patience  of  the  world.  With  such  a  flood  of  loud 
jingling  appurtenances  does  he  lumber  along,  prosecuting  his 
conquests  in  Flanders  :  wonderful  to  behold.  So  nevertheless 
it  was  and  had  been :  to  some  solitary  thinker  it  might  seem 
strange ;  but  even  to  him  inevitable,  not  unnatural. 

For  ours  is  a  most  fictile  world ;  and  man  is  the  most  fin- 
gent  plastic  of  creatures.  A  world  not  fixable ;  not  fathom¬ 
able  !  An  unfathomable  Somewhat,  which  is  Not  we ;  which 
we  can  work  with,  and  live  amidst,  —  and  model,  miraculously 
in  our  miraculous  Being,  and  name  World.  —  But  if  the  very 
Bocks  and  Bivers  (as  Metaphysic  teaches)  are,  in  strict  lan¬ 
guage,  made  by  those  outward  Senses  of  ours,  how  much  more, 
by  the  Inward  Sense,  are  all  Phenomena  of  the  spiritual  kind  : 
Dignities,  Authorities,  Holies,  Unholies  !  Which  inward  sense, 
moreover,  is  not  permanent  like  the  outward  ones,  but  forever 
growing  and  changing.  Does  not  the  Black  African  take  of 
Sticks  and  Old  Clothes  (say,  exported  Monmouth-Street  cast- 
clothes)  what  will  suffice,  and  of  these,  cunningly  combining 
them,  fabricate  for  himself  an  Eidolon  (Idol,  or  Thing  Seen), 
and  name  it  Mumbo-Jumbo ;  which  he  can  thenceforth  pray 
to,  with  upturned  awe-struck  eye,  not  without  hope  ?  The 
white  European  mocks ;  but  ought  rather  to  consider ;  and 
see  whether  he,  at  home,  could  not  do  the  like  a  little  more 
wisely. 

So  it  was,  we  say,  in  those  conquests  of  Flanders,  thirty 
years  ago :  but  so  it  no  longer  is.  Alas,  much  more  lies  sick 
than  poor  Louis  :  not  the  French  King  only,  but  the  French 
Kingship ;  this  too,  after  long  rough  tear  and  wear,  is  break¬ 
ing  down.  The  world  is  all  so  changed ;  so  much  that  seemed 
vigorous  has  sunk  decrepit,  so  much  that  was  not  is  beginning 


Chap.  II.  REALIZED  IDEALS.  9 

1744-74. 

to  be  !  —  Borne  over  the  Atlantic,  to  the  closing  ear  of  Louis, 
King  by  the  Grace  of  God,  what  sounds  are  these ;  muffled 
ominous,  new  in  our  centuries  ?  Boston  Harbor  is  black  with 
unexpected  Tea :  behold  a  Pennsylvanian  Congress  gather ; 
and  ere  long,  on  Bunker  Hill,  Democracy  announcing,  in  rifle- 
volleys  death-winged,  under  her  Star  Banner,  to  the  tune  of 
Yankee-doodle-doo,  that  she  is  born,  and,  whirlwind-like,  will 
envelop  the  whole  world  ! 

Sovereigns  die  and  Sovereignties  :  how  all  dies,  and  is  for  a 
Time  only ;  is  a  “  Time-phantasm,  yet  reckons  itself  real !  ” 
The  Merovingian  Kings,  slowly  wending  on  their  bullock-carts 
through  the  streets  of  Paris,  with  their  long  hair  flowing,  have 
all  wended  slowly  on,  —  into  Eternity.  Charlemagne  sleeps 
at  Salzburg,  with  truncheon  grounded j  only  Fable  expecting 
that  he  will  awaken.  Charles  the  Hammer,  Pepin  Bow-legged, 
where  now  is  their  eye  of  menace,  their  voice  of  command  ? 
Rollo  and  his  shaggy  Northmen  cover  not  the  Seine  with 
ships ;  but  have  sailed  off  on  a  longer  voyage.  The  hair  of 
Towhead  ( Tete  d’etoupes )  now  needs  no  combing ;  Iron-cutter 
(Taillefer)  cannot  cut  a  cobweb ;  shrill  Fredegonda,  shrill 
Brunhilda  have  had  out  their  hot  life-scold,  and  lie  silent, 
their  hot  life-frenzy  cooled.  Neither  from  that  black  Tower 
de  Nesle  descends  now  darkling  the  doomed  gallant,  in  his 
sack,  to  fhe  Seine  waters  ;  plunging  into  Night :  for  Dame  de 
Nesle  now  cares  not  for  this  world’s  gallantry,  heeds  not  this 
world’s  scandal ;  Dame  de  Nesle  is  herself  gone  into  Night. 
They  are  all  gone  ;  sunk,  —  down,  down,  with  the  tumult  they 
made ;  and  the  rolling  and  the  trampling  of  ever  new  gen¬ 
erations  passes  over  them ;  and  they  hear  it  .not  any  more 
forever.  . 

And  yet  withal  has  there  not  been  realized  somewhat  ? 
Consider  (to  go  no  further)  these  strong  Stone-edifices,  and 
what  they  hold !  Mud-Town  of  the  Borderers  (Lutetia  Pari- 
siorum  or  Barisiorum)  has  paved  itself,  has  spread  over  all  the 
Seine  Islands,  and  far  and  wide  on  each  bank,  and  become 
City  of  Paris,  sometimes  boasting  to  be  “  Athens  of  Europe,” 
and  even  “  Capital  of  the  Universe.”  Stone  towers  frown 


10  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1744-74. 

aloft ;  long-lasting,  grim  -with  a  thousand  years.  Cathedrals 
are  there,  and  a  Creed  (or  memory  of  a  Creed)  in  them ;  Pal¬ 
aces,  and  a  State  and  Law.  Thou  seest  the  Smoke-vapor ; 
^extinguished  Breath  as  of  a  thing  living.  Labor’s  thousand 
hammers  ring  on  her  anvils  :  also  a  more  miraculous  Labor 
works  noiselessly,  not  with  the  Hand  but  with  the  Thought. 
How  have  cunning  workmen  in  all  crafts,  with  their  cunning 
head  and  right-hand,  tamed  the  Four  Elements  to  be  their 
ministers  ;  yoking  the  Winds  to  their  Sea-chariot,  making  the 
very  Stars  their  Nautical  Timepiece ;  —  and  written  and  col¬ 
lected  a  Bibliotheque  du  Roi ;  among  whose  Books  is  the 
Hebrew  Book  !  A  wondrous  race  of  creatures  :  these  have 
been  realized,  and  what  of  Skill  is  in  these  :  call  not  the  Past 
Time,  with  all  its  confused  wretchednesses,  a  lost  one. 

Observe,  however,  that  of  man’s  whole  terrestrial  possessions 
and  attainments,  unspeakably  the  noblest  are  his  Symbols, 
divine  or  divine-seeming ;  under  which  he  marches  and  fights, 
with  victorious  assurance,  in  this  life-battle :  what  we  can  call 
his  Bealized  Ideals.  Of  which  realized  Ideals,  omitting  the 
rest,  consider  only  these  two :  his  Church,  or  spiritual  Guidance  ; 
his  Kingship,  or  temporal  one.  The  Church :  what  a  word  was 
there ;  richer  than  Golconda  and  the  treasures  of  the  world ! 
In  the  heart  of  the  remotest  mountains  rises  the  little  Kirk ; 
the  Dead  all  slumbering  round  it,  under  their  white  memorial- 
stones,  “in  hope  of  a  happy  resurrection:  ”  —  dull  wert  thou, 
0  Reader,  if  never  in  any  hour  (say  of  moaning  midnight, 
when  such  Kirk  hung  spectral  in  the  sky,  and  Being  was  as  if 
swallowed  up  of  Darkness)  it  spoke  to  thee  — things  unspeak¬ 
able,  that  went  into  thy  soul’s  soul.  Strong  was  he  that  had  a 
Church,  what  we  can  call  a  Church  :  he  stood  thereby,  though 
“in  the  centre  of  Immensities,  in  the  conflux  of  Eternities,” 
yet  manlike  towards  God  and  man;  the  vague  shoreless  Uni¬ 
verse  had  become  for  him  a  firm  city,  and  dwelling  which  he 
knew.  Such  virtue  was  in  Belief ;  in  these  words,  well  spoken : 
I  believe.  Well  might  men  prize  their  Credo ,  and  raise  stateliest 
Temples  for  it,  and  reverend  Hierarchies,  and  give  it  the  tithe 
of  their  substance ;  it  was  worth  living  for  and  dying  for. 

Neither  was  that  an  inconsiderable  moment  when  wild  armed 


REALIZED  IDEALS. 


11 


Chap.  II. 

1744-74. 

men  first  raised  their  Strongest  aloft  on  the  buckler-throne, 
and,  with  clanging  armor  and  hearts,  said  solemnly :  Be  thou 
our  Acknowledged  Strongest !  In  such  acknowledged  Strongest 
(well  named  King,  Kon-ning ,  Can-ning,  or  Man  that  was  Able) 
what  a  Symbol  shone  now  for  them,  —  significant  with  the 
destinies  of  the  world !  A  Symbol  of  true  Guidance  in  return 
for  loving  Obedience ;  properly,  if  he  knew  it,  the  prime  want 
of  man.  A  Symbol  which  might  be  called  sacred  ;  for  is  there 
not,  in  reverence  for  what  is  better  than  we,  an  indestructible 
sacredness  ?  On  which  ground,  too,  it  was  well  said  there  lay 
in  the  Acknowledged  Strongest  a  divine  right ;  as  surely  there 
might  in  the  Strongest,  whether  Acknowledged  or  not,  —  con¬ 
sidering  who  it  was  that  made  him  strong.  And  so,  in  the 
midst  of  confusions  and  unutterable  incongruities  (as  all  growth 
is  confused),  did  this  of  Royalty,  with  Loyalty  environing  it, 
spring  up ;  and  grow  mysteriously,  subduing  and  assimilating 
(for  a  principle  of  Life  was  in  it)  ;  till  it  also  had  grown  world- 
great,  and  was  among  the  main  Facts  of  our  modern  existence. 
Such  a  Fact,  that  Louis  XIV.,  for  example,  could  answer  the 
expostulatory  Magistrate  with  his  “ VEtat  c’est  moi  (The  State  ? 
I  am  the  State) ;  ”  and  be  replied  to  by  silence  and  abashed 
looks.  So  far  had  accident  and  forethought ;  had  your  Louis 
Elevenths,  with  the  leaden  Virgin  in  their  hatband,  and  tor¬ 
ture-wheels  and  conical  oubliettes  (man-eating!)  under  their 
feet ;  your  Henri  Fourths,  with  their  prophesied  social  millen¬ 
nium,  “  when  every  peasant  should  have  his  fowl  in  the  pot ;  ” 
and  on  the  whole,  the  fertility  of  this  most  fertile  Existence 
(named  of  Good  and  Evil), — brought  it,  in  the  matter  of  the 
Kingship.  Wondrous  !  Concerning  which  may  we  not  again 
say,  that  in  the  huge  mass  of  Evil,  as  it  rolls  and  swells,  there 
is  ever  some  Good  working  imprisoned;  working  towards 
deliverance  and  triumph  ? 

How  such  Ideals  do  realize  themselves ;  and  grow,  won- 
drously,  from  amid  the  incongruous  ever-fluctuating  chaos  of 
the  Actual :  this  is  what  World-History,  if  it  teach  anything, 
has  to  teach  us.  How  they  grow ;  and,  after  long  stormy 
growth,  bloom  out  mature,  supreme ;  then  quickly  (for  the 
blossom  is  brief)  fall  into  decay;  sorrowfully  dwindle;  and 


12  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1744-74. 

crumble  down,  or  rush  down,  noisily  or  noiselessly  disappear¬ 
ing.  The  blossom  is  so  brief  ;  as  of  some  centennial  Cactus- 
flower,  which  after  a  century  of  waiting  shines  out  for  hours  ! 
Thus  from  the  day  when  rough  Clovis,  in  the  Champ  de  Mars, 
in  sight  of  his  whole  army,  had  to  cleave  retributively  the  head 
of  that  rough  Frank,  with  sudden  battle-axe,  and  the  fierce 
words,  “It  was  thus  thou  clavest  the  vase  (St.  Remi’s  and 
mine)  at  Soissons,”  forward  to  Louis  the  Grand  and  his  VEtat 
c’est  mioi,  we  count  some  twelve  hundred  years :  and  now  this 
the  very  next  Louis  is  dying,  and  so  much  dying  with  him  !  — 
Nay,  thus  too,  if  Catholicism,  with  and  against  Feudalism  (but 
not  against  Nature  and  her  bounty),  gave  us  English  a  Shak- 
speare  and  Era  of  Shakspeare,  and  so  produced  a  blossom  of 
Catholicism  —  it  was  not  till  Catholicism  itself,  so  far  as  Law 
could  abolish  it,  had  been  abolished  here. 

But  of  those  decadent  ages  in  which  no  Ideal  either  grows 
or  blossoms  ?  When  Belief  and  Loyalty  have  passed  away, 
and  only  the  cant  and  false  echo  of  them  remains  ;  and  all 
Solemnity  has  become  Pageantry;  and  the  Creed  of  persons 
in  authority  has  become  one  of  two  things  :  an  Imbecility  or  a 
Machiavelism  ?  Alas,  of  these  ages  World-History  can  take 
no  notice  ;  they  have  to  become  compressed  more  and  more, 
and  finally  suppressed  in  the  Annals  of  Mankind ;  blotted  out  as 
spurious,  — which  indeed  they  are.  Hapless  ages  :  wherein,  if 
ever  in  any,  it  is  an  unhappiness  to  be  born.  To  be  born,  and 
to  learn  only,  by  every  tradition  and  example,  that  God’s  Uni¬ 
verse  is  Belial’s  and  a  Lie ;  and  “  the  Supreme  Quack  ”  the 
hierarch  of  men !  In  which  mournfulest  faith,  nevertheless,  do 
we  not  see  whole  generations  (two,  and  sometimes  even  three 
successively)  live,  what  they  call  living ;  and  vanish,  —  with¬ 
out  chance  of  reappearance  ? 

In  such  a  decadent  age,  or  one  fast  verging  that  way,  had 
our  poor  Louis  been  born.  Grant  also  that  if  the  French 
Kingship  had  not,  by  course  of  Nature,  long  to  live,  he  of  all 
men  was  the  man  to  accelerate  Nature.  The  Blossom  of 
French  Royalty,  cactus-like,  has  accordingly  made  an  astonish¬ 
ing  progress.  In  those  Metz  days,  it  was  still  standing  with 
all  its  petals,  though  bedimmed  by  Orleans  Regents  and  Roue 


Chap.  II.  REALIZED  IDEALS.  13 

1744-74. 

Ministers  and  Cardinals  ;  but  now,  in  1774,  we  behold  it  bald, 
and  the  virtue  nigh  gone  out  of  it. 

Disastrous  indeed  does  it  look  with  those  same  “  realized 
ideals,”  one  and  all !  The  Church,  which  in  its  palmy  season, 
seven  hundred  years  ago,  could  make  an  Emperor  wait  bare¬ 
foot,  in  penance-shirt,  three  days,  in  the  snow,  has  for  centuries 
seen  itself  decaying ;  reduced  even  to  forget  old  purposes  and 
enmities,  and  join  interest  with  the  Kingship  :  on  this  younger 
strength  it  would  fain  stay  its  decrepitude ;  and  these  two  will 
henceforth  stand  and  fall  together.  Alas,  the  Sorbonne  still 
sits  there,  in  its  old  mansion;  but  mumbles  only  jargon  of 
dotage,  and  no  longer  leads  the  consciences  of  men :  not  the 
Sorbonne  ;  it  is  Encyclopedias,  Philosophic,  and  who  knows 
what  nameless  innumerable  multitude  of  ready  Writers,  pro¬ 
fane  Singers,  Romancers,  Players,  Disputators,  and  Pam¬ 
phleteers,  that  now  form  the  Spiritual  Guidance  of  the  world. 
The  world’s  Practical  Guidance  too  is  lost,  or  has  glided  into 
the  same  miscellaneous  hands.  Who  is  it  that  the  King  ( Able - 
man,  named  also  Poi,  Rex,  or  Director)  now  guides  ?  His  own 
huntsmen  and  prickers :  when  there  is  to  be  no  hunt,  it  is  well 
said,  u  Le  Roi  ne  fera  rien  (To-day  his  Majesty  will  do  noth¬ 
ing).”  1  He  lives  and  lingers  there,  because  he  is  living  there, 
and  none  has  yet  laid  hands  on  him. 

The  nobles,  in  like  manner,  have  nearly  ceased  either  to 
guide  or  misguide ;  and  are  now,  as  their  master  is,  little 
more  than  ornamental  figures.  It  is  long  since  they  have 
done  with  butchering  one  another  or  their  king:  the  Work¬ 
ers,  protected,  encouraged  by  Majesty,  have  ages  ago  built 
walled  towns,  and  there  ply  their  craft ;  will  permit  no  Rob¬ 
ber  Baron  to  “live  by  the  saddle,”  but  maintain  a  gallows 
to  prevent  it.  Ever  since  that  period  of  the  Fronde  the  No¬ 
ble  has  changed  his  fighting  sword  into  a  court  rapier ;  and 
now  loyally  attends  his  king  as  ministering  satellite  ;  divides 
the  spoil,  not  now  by  violence  and  murder,  but  by  soliciting 
and  finesse.  These  men  call  themselves  supports  of  the 
throne  :  singular  gilt-pasteboard  caryatides  in  that  singular 

1  Me'moires  sur  la  Vie  priv€e  de  Marie  Antoinette ,  par  Madame  Campan 
(Paris,  1826),  i.  12. 


14  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1744-74. 

edifice  !  For  the  rest,  their  privileges  every  way  are  now 
much  curtailed.  That  Law  authorizing  a  Seigneur,  as  he 
returned  from  hunting,  to  kill  not  more  than  two  Serfs,  and 
refresh  his  feet  in  their  warm  blood  and  bowels,  has  fallen 
into  perfect  desuetude,  —  and  even  into  incredibility ;  for  if 
Deputy  Lapoule  can  believe  in  it,  and  call  for  the  abrogation 
of  it,  so  cannot  we.1  No  Charolois,  for  these  last  fifty  years, 
though  never  so  fond  of  shooting,  has  been  in  use  to  bring 
down  slaters  and  plumbers,  and  see  them  roll  from  their 
roofs ; 2  but  contents  himself  with  partridges  and  grouse. 
Close-viewed,  their  industry  and  function  is  that  of  dressing 
gracefully  and  eating  sumptuously.  As  for  their  debauchery 
and  depravity,  it  is  perhaps  unexampled  since  the  era  of 
Tiberius  and  Commodus.  Nevertheless,  one  has  still  partly 
a  feeling  with  the  lady  Mareehale :  “  Depend  upon  it,  Sir, 
God  thinks  twice  before  damning  a  man  of  that  quality.”  8 
These  people,  of  old,  surely  had  virtues,  uses  ;  or  they  could 
not  have  been  there.  Nay,  one  virtue  they  are  still  required 
to  have  (for  mortal  man  cannot  live  without  a  conscience)  : 
the  virtue  of  perfect  readiness  to  fight  duels. 

Such  are  the  shepherds  of  the  people :  and  now  how 
fares  it  with  the  flock  ?  With  the  flock,  as  is  inevitable,  it 
fares  ill,  and  ever  worse.  They  are  not  tended,  they  are 
only  regularly  shorn.  They  are  sent  for,  to  do  statute- 
labor,  to  pay  statute-taxes ;  to  fatten  battle-fields  (named 
“  bed  of  honor  ”)  with  their  bodies,  in  quarrels  which  are  not 
theirs ;  their  hand  and  toil  is  in  every  possession  of  man ; 
but  for  themselves  they  have  little  or  no  possession.  Un¬ 
taught,  uncomforted,  unfed ;  to  pine  stagnantly  in  thick  ob¬ 
scuration,  in  squalid  destitution  and  obstruction :  this  is  the 
lot  of  the  millions ;  peuple  taillable  et  corveable  a  merci  et  mise- 
ricorde.  In  Brittany  they  once  rose  in  revolt  at  the  first 
introduction  of  Pendulum  Clocks  ;  thinking  it  had  something 
to  do  with  the  Gabelle.  Paris  requires  to  be  cleared  out 

1  Histoire  de  la  Revolution  Frangaise,  par  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberte  (Paris, 
1792),  ii.  212. 

2  Lacretelle  :  Histoire  de  France  pendant  le  18mfi  Siecle  (Paris,  1819),  i.  271. 

8  Dulaure,  vii.  261. 


Chap.  II.  REALIZED  IDEALS.  15 

1744-74. 

periodically  by  the  Police ;  and  the  horde  of  hunger-stricken 
vagabonds  to  be  sent  wandering  again  over  space — for  a 
time.  “  During  one  such  periodical  clearance,”  says  Lacre- 
telle,  “  in  May,  1750,  the  Police  had  presumed  withal  to  carry 
off  some  reputable  people’s  children,  in  the  hope  of  extort¬ 
ing  ransoms  for  them.  The  mothers  fill  the  public  places 
with  cries  of  despair ;  crowds  gather,  get  excited ;  so  many 
women  in  distraction  run  about  exaggerating  the  alarm : 
an  absurd  and  horrid  fable  rises  among  the  people;  it  is 
said  that  the  doctors  have  ordered  a  Great  Person  to  take 
baths  of  young  human  blood  for  the  restoration  of  his  own, 
all  spoiled  by  debaucheries.  Some  of  the  rioters,”  adds 
Lacretelle,  quite  coolly,  “  were  hanged  on  the  following 
days :  ”  the  Police  went  on.1  0  ye  poor  naked  wretches  ! 
and  this,  then,  is  your  inarticulate  cry  to  Heaven,  as  of  a 
dumb  tortured  animal,  crying  from  uttermost  depths  of  pain 
and  debasement  ?  Do  these  azure  skies,  like  a  dead  crys¬ 
talline  vault,  only  reverberate  the  echo  of  it  on  you  ?  Re¬ 
spond  to  it  only  by  “  hanging  on  the  following  days  ”  ?  —  Not 
so :  not  forever  !  Ye  are  heard  in  Heaven.  And  the  answer 
too  will  come,  —  in  a  horror  of  great  darkness,  and  shakings 
of  the  world,  and  a  cup  of  trembling  which  all  the  nations 
shall  drink. 

Remark,  meanwhile,  how  from  amid  the  wrecks  and  dust 
of  this  universal  Decay  new  Powers  are  fashioning  them¬ 
selves,  adapted  to  the  new  time  and  its  destinies.  Besides 
the  old  Noblesse,  originally  of  fighters,  there  is  a  new  rec¬ 
ognized  Noblesse  of  Lawyers ;  whose  gala-day  and  proud 
battle-day  even  now  is.  An  unrecognized  Noblesse  of  Com¬ 
merce  ;  powerful  enough;  with  money  in  its  pocket.  Lastly, 
powerfulest  of  all,  least  recognized  of  all,  a  Noblesse  of 
Literature ;  without  steel  on  their  thigh,  without  gold  in 
their  purse,  but  with  the  “  grand  thaumaturgic  faculty  of 
Thought  ”  in  their  head.  French  Philosophism  has  arisen ; 
in  which  little  word  how  much  do  we  include  !  Here,  in¬ 
deed,  lies  properly  the  cardinal  symptom  of  the  whole  wide¬ 
spread  malady.  Faith  is  gone  out;  Scepticism  is  come  in. 

1  Lacretelle,  iii.  175. 


16  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1744-74. 

Evil  abounds  and  accumulates  ;  no  man  has  Faith  to  with¬ 
stand  it,  to  amend  it,  to  begin  by  amending  himself ;  it  must 
even  go  on  accumulating.  While  hollow  languor  and  vacuity 
is  the  lot  of  the  Upper,  and  want  and  stagnation  of  the 
Lower,  and  universal  misery  is  very  certain,  what  other  thing 
is  certain  ?  That  a  Lie  cannot  be  believed !  Philosophism 
knows  only  this  :  her  other  belief  is  mainly,  that  in  spiritual 
supersensual  matters  no  Belief  is  possible.  Unhappy  !  Nay, 
as  yet  the  Contradiction  of  a  Lie  is  some  kind  of  Belief ;  but 
the  Lie  with  its  Contradiction  once  swept  away,  what  will 
remain  ?  The  five  unsatiated  Senses  will  remain,  the  sixth 
insatiable  Sense  (of  vanity) ;  the  whole  demonic  nature  of 
man  will  remain,  —  hurled  forth  to  rage  blindly  without  rule 
or  rein ;  savage  itself,  yet  with  all  the  tools  and  weapons  of 
civilization :  a  spectacle  new  in  History. 

In  such  a  France,  as  in  a  Powder-tower,  where  fire  un¬ 
quenched  and  now  unquenchable  is  smoking  and  smouldering 
all  round,  has  Louis  XV.  lain  down  to  die.  With  Pompa- 
dourism  and  Dubarryism,  his  Fleur-de-lis  has  been  shamefully 
struck  down  in  all  lands  and  on  all  seas ;  Poverty  invades 
even  the  Royal  Exchequer,  and  Tax-farming  can  squeeze  out 
no  more  ;  there  is  a  quarrel  of  twenty-five  years’  standing  with 
the  Parlement ;  everywhere  Want,  Dishonesty,  Unbelief,  and 
hot-brained  Sciolists  for  state-physicians :  it  is  a  portentous 
hour. 

Such  things  can  the  eye  of  History  see  in  this  sick-room  of 
King  Louis,  which  were  invisible  to  the  Courtiers  there.  It 
is  twenty  years,  gone  Christmas-day,  since  Lord  Chesterfield, 
summing  up  what  he  had  noted  of  this  same  France,  wrote, 
and  sent  off  by  post,  the  following  words,  that  have  become 
memorable  :  “  In  short,  all  the  symptoms  which  I  have  ever 
met  with  in  History,  previous  to  great  Changes  and  Revo¬ 
lutions  in  government,  now  exist  and  daily  increase  in 
France.” 1 

1  Chesterfield’s  Letters  :  December  25,  1753. 


Chap.  III. 
1774. 


VIATICUM. 


17 


CHAPTEE  III. 

VIATICUM. 

For  the  present,  however,  the  grand  question  with  the  Gover¬ 
nors  of  France  is  :  Shall  extreme  unction,  or  other  ghostly 
viaticum  (to  Louis,  not  to  France),  be  administered  ? 

It  is  a  deep  question.  For,  if  administered,  if  so  much  as 
spoken  of,  must  not,  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  business, 
Witch  Dubarry  vanish ;  hardly  to  return  should  Louis  even 
recover  ?  With  her  vanishes  Duke  d’Aiguillon  and  Company, 
and  all  their  Armida-Palace,  as  was  said ;  Chaos  swallows  the 
whole  again,  and  there  is  left  nothing  but  a  smell  of  brim¬ 
stone.  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  what  will  the  Dauphin- 
ists  and  Choiseulists  say  ?  Nay  what  may  the  royal  martyr 
himself  say,  should  he  happen  to  get  deadly  worse,  without 
getting  delirious  ?  For  the  present,  he  still  kisses  the  Dubarry 
hand;  so  we,  from  the  anteroom,  can  note:  but  afterwards? 
Doctors’  bulletins  may  run  as  they  are  ordered,  but  it  is  “  con¬ 
fluent  small-pox,”  —  of  which,  as  is  whispered  too,  the  Gate¬ 
keeper’s  once  so  buxom  Daughter  lies  ill :  and  Louis  XV.  is 
not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with  in  his  viaticum.  Was  he  not  wont 
to  cateehise  his  very  girls  in  the  Parc-aux-cerfs ,  and  pray  with 
and  for  them,  that  they  might  preserve  their  —  orthodoxy  ? 1 
A  strange  fact,  not  an  unexampled  one ;  for  there  is  no  animal 
so  strange  as  man. 

For  the  moment,  indeed,  it  were  all  well,  could  Archbishop 
Beaumont  but  be  prevailed  upon  —  to  wink  with  one  eye  ! 
Alas,  Beaumont  would  himself  so  fain  do  it :  for,  singular  to 
tell,  the  Church  too,  and  whole  posthumous  hope  of  Jesuitism, 
now  hangs  by  the  apron  of  this  same  unmentionable  woman. 
But  then  “the  force  of  public  opinion”  ?  Eigorous  Christophe 
de  Beaumont,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  persecuting  hysterical 

1  Dulaure  (viii.  217);  Besenval,  &c. 

VOL.  in.  2 


18  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1774. 

Jansenists  and  incredulous  Non-confessors ;  or  even  their  dead 
bodies,  if  no  better  might  be, — how  shall  he  now  open  Heaven’s 
gate,  and  give  Absolution  with  the  corpus  delicti  still  under  his 
nose  ?  Our  Grand  Almoner  Roche- Aymon,  for  his  part,  will 
not  higgle  with  a  royal  sinner  about  turning  of  the  key :  but 
there  are  other  Churchmen  j  there  is  a  King’s  Confessor,  fool¬ 
ish  Abbe  Moudon ;  and  Fanaticism  and  Decency  are  not  yet 
extinct.  On  the  whole,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  The  doors  can 
be  well  watched ;  the  Medical  Bulletin  adjusted ;  and  much, 
as  usual,  be  hoped  for  from  time  and  chance. 

The  doors  are  well  watched,  no  improper  figure  can  enter. 
Indeed,  few  wish  to  enter;  for  the  putrid  infection  reaches 
even  to  the  (Eil-de-Bceuf  ;  so  that  “  more  than  fifty  fall  sick, 
and  ten  die.”  Mesdames  the  Princesses  alone  wait  at  the 
loathsome  sick-bed ;  impelled  by  filial  piety.  The  three  Prin¬ 
cesses,  Graille ,  Chijfe ,  Coche  (Rag,  Snip,  Pig,  as  he  was  wont 
to  name  them),  are  assiduous  there ;  when  all  have  fled.  The 
fourth  Princess,  Loque  (Hud),  as  we  guess,  is  already  in  the 
Nunnery,  and  can  only  give  her  orisons.  Poor  Graille  and 
Sisterhood,  they  have  never  known  a  father ;  such  is  the  hard 
bargain  Grandeur  must  make.  Scarcely  at  the  Debotter  (when 
Royalty  took  off  its  boots)  could  they  snatch  up  their  u  enor¬ 
mous  hoops,  gird  the  long  train  round  their  waists,  huddle  on 
their  black  cloaks  of  taffeta  up  to  the  very  chin  ;  ”  and  so,  in 
fit  appearance  of  full  dress,  “  every  evening  at  six,”  walk 
majestically  in ;  receive  their  royal  kiss  on  the  brow ;  and 
then  walk  majestically  out  again,  to  embroidery,  small-scandal, 
prayers,  and  vacancy.  If  Majesty  came  some  morning,  with 
coffee  of  its  own  making,  and  swallowed  it  with  them  hastily 
while  the  dogs  were  uncoupling  for  the  hunt,  it  was  received 
as  a  grace  of  Heaven.1  Poor  withered  ancient  women  !  in  the 
wild  tossings  that  yet  await  your  fragile  existence,  before  it 
be  crushed  and  broken ;  as  ye  fly  through  hostile  countries, 
over  tempestuous  seas,  are  almost  taken  by  the  Turks  ;  and 
wholly,  in  the  Sansculottic  Earthquake,  know  not  your  right 
hand  from  your  left,  be  this  always  an  assured  place  in  your 
remembrance :  for  the  act  was  good  and  loving !  To  us  also 

1  Campan,  i.  11-36. 


VIATICUM. 


Chap.  III. 
1774. 


19 


it  is  a  little  sunny  spot,  in  that  dismal  howling  waste,  where 
we  hardly  find  another. 


Meanwhile,  what  shall  an  impartial  prudent  Courtier  do  ?  In 
these  delicate  circumstances,  while  not  only  death  or  life,  but 
even  sacrament  or  no  sacrament,  is  a  question,  the  skilfulest 
may  falter.  Few  are  so  happy  as  the  Duke  d’ Orleans  and  the 
Prince  de  Conde  ;  who  can  themselves,  with  volatile  salts, 
attend  the  King’s  antechamber ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  send 
their  brave  sons  (Duke  de  Chartres,  Egalite  that  is  to  be; 
Duke  de  Bourbon,  one  day  Conde  too,  and  famous  among 
Dotards)  to  wait  upon  the  Dauphin.  With  another  few,  it 
is  a  resolution  taken;  jacta  est  alea.  Old  Bichelieu  —  when 
Archbishop  Beaumont,  driven  by  public  opinion,  is  at  last  for 
entering  the  sick-room  —  will  twitch  him  by  the  rochet,  into  a 
recess ;  and  there,  with  his  old  dissipated  mastiff-face,  and  the 
oiliest  vehemence,  be  seen  pleading  (and  even,  as  we  judge  by 
Beaumont’s  change,  of  color,  prevailing)  “  that  the  King  be 
not  killed  by  a  proposition  in  Divinity.”  Duke  de  Fronsac, 
son  of  Richelieu,  can  follow  his  father  :  when  the  Cure 
of  Versailles  whimpers  something  about  sacraments,  he  will 
threaten  to  “  throw  him  out  of  the  window  if  he  mention  such 
a  thing.” 

Happy  these,  we  may  say ;  but  to  the  rest  that  hover  be¬ 
tween  two  opinions,  is  it  not  trying  ?  He  who  would  under- 
stand  to  what  a  pass  Catholicism,  and  much  else,  had  now 
got ;  and  how  the  symbols  of  the  Holiest  have  become  gam¬ 
bling-dice  of  the  Basest,  —  must  read  the  narrative  of  those 
things  by  Besenval,  and  Soulavie,  and  the  other  Court  News¬ 
men  of  the  time.  He  will  see  the  Versailles  Galaxy  all  scat¬ 
tered  asunder,  grouped  into  new  ever-shifting  Constellations. 
There  are  nods  and  sagacious  glances ;  go-betweens,  silk  dowa¬ 
gers  mysteriously  gliding,  with  smiles  for  this  constellation, 
sighs  for  that :  there  is  tremor,  of  hope  or  desperation,  in 
several  hearts.  There  is  the  pale  grinning  Shadow  of  Death, 
ceremoniously  ushered  along  by  another  grinning  Shadow,  of 
Etiquette :  at  intervals  the  growl  of  Chapel  Organs,  like 
prayer  by  machinery ;  proclaiming,  as  in  a  kind  of  horrid  dia¬ 
bolic  horse-laughter,  Vanity  of  vanities ,  all  is  Vanity  ! 


20 


DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


Book  I. 
1774. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEN. 

Poor  Louis!  With  these  it  is  a  hollow  phantasmagory, 
where  like  mimes  they  mope  and  mowl,  and  utter  false  sounds 
for  hire ;  but  with  thee  it  is  frightful  earnest. 

Frightful  to  all  men  is  Death ;  from  of  old  named  King  of 
Terrors.  Our  little  compact  home  of  an  Existence,  where  we 
dwelt  complaining,  yet  as  in  a  home,  is  passing,  in  dark  ago¬ 
nies,  into  an  Unknown  of  Separation,  Foreignness,  uncondi¬ 
tioned  Possibility.  The  Heathen  Emperor  asks  of  his  soul : 
Into  what  places  art  thou  now  departing  ?  The  Catholic  King 
must  answer  :  To  the  J udgment-bar  of  the  Most  High  God ! 
Yes,  it  is  a  summing-up  of  Life ;  a  final  settling,  and  giving-in 
the  “  account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body :  ”  they  are  done 
now ;  and  lie  there  unalterable,  and  do  bear  their  fruits,  long 
as  Eternity  shall  last. 

Louis  XV.  had  always  the  kingliest  abhorrence  of  Death. 
Unlike  that  praying  Duke  of  Orleans,  Egalite’s  grandfather, 
—  for  indeed  several  of  them  had  a  touch  of  madness,  —  who 
honestly  believed  that  there  was  no  Death !  He,  if  the  Court 
Newsman  can  be  believed,  started  up  once  on  a  time,  glowing 
with  sulphurous  contempt  and  indignation  on  his  poor  Secre¬ 
tary,  who  had  stumbled  on  the  words,  feu  roi  d’Espagne  (the 
late  King  of  Spain)  :  “  Feu  roi,  Monsieur  ?  ”  —  “  Monseigneur  ” 
hastily  answered  the  trembling  but  adroit  man  of  business, 
u  c’est  une  titre  qu’ils  prennent  (’t  is  a  title  they  take).”  1  Louis, 
we  say,  was  not  so  happy;  but  he  did  what  he  could.  He 
would  not  suffer  Death  to  be  spoken  of ;  avoided  the  sight  of 
churchyards,  funereal  monuments,  and  whatsoever  could  bring 
it  to  mind.  It  is  the  resource  of  the  Ostrich;  who,  hard 
hunted,  sticks  his  foolish  head  in  the  ground,  and  would  fain 

1  Besenval,  i.  199. 


r 


.  HAP.  IV. 


17 


74. 


LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEN. 


21 


rorget  that  his  foolish  unseeing  body  is  not  unseen  too.  Or 
Jometimes,  with  a  spasmodic  antagonism,  significant  of  the 
game  thing,  and  of  more,  he  would  go ;  or  stopping  his  court 
cariT°eSj  wou^  sen(i  lnt°  churchyards,  and  ask  “how  many 
new  ;raves  there  were  to-day,”  though  it  gave  his  poor  Pom- 
pado'ir  disagreeaklest  qualms.  We  can  figure  the  thought 
of  Lm*s  w^en?  a^  royally  caparisoned  for  hunting, 

he  nLe^’  a^  some  sudden  turning  in  the  Wood  of  Sen  art,  a 
„0  <d  Peasant  with  a  coffin :  u  For  whom  ?  ”  —  It  was  for  a 

lag?( 

brother  slave,  whom  Majesty  had  sometimes  noticed 
slav  ng  111  those  quarters.  “  What  did  he  die  of  ?  ”  —  “  Of 
hun&er-” — the  King  gave  his  steed  the  spur.1 

j>ut  figure  his  thought,  when  Death  is  now  clutching  at  his 
own  heart-strings  ;  unlooked  for,  inexorable  !  Yes,  poor  Louis, 


Dea 


th  has  found  thee.  No  palace  walls  or  life-guards,  gor- 


geoils  tapestries  or  gilt  buckram  of  stiffest  ceremonial  could 
keep  him  out ;  but  he  is  here,  here  at  thy  very  life-breath,  and 
extinguish  it.  Thou,  whose  whole  existence  hitherto  was 
a  (;himera  and  scenic  show,  at  length  becomest  a  reality: 
ptuous  Versailles  bursts  asunder,  like  a  dream,  into  void 
lensity ;  Time  is  done,  and  all  the  scaffolding  of  Time  falls 
ked  with  hideous  clangor  round  thy  soul :  the  pale  King- 
do  fis  yawn  open ;  there  must  thou  enter,  naked,  all  unkinged, 
await  what  is  appointed  thee !  Unhappy  man,  there  as 
tk(|>u  turnest,  in  dull  agony,  on  thy  bed  of  weariness,  what  a 
thought  is  thine !  Purgatory  and  Hell-fire,  now  all  too  pos- 
sptde,  in  the  prospect :  in  the  retrospect,  —  alas,  what  thing 
^llst  thou  do  that  were  not  better  undone ;  what  mortal  didst 
fljou  generously  help  ;  what  sorrow  hadst  thou  mercy  on  ?  Do 
j.3e  “  five  hundred  thousand  ”  ghosts,  who  sank  shamefully  on 
g0 j  many  battle-fields  from  Rossbach  to  Quebec,  that  thy  Harlot 
•ight  take  revenge  for  an  epigram,  — crowd  round  thee  in  this 
Thy  foul  Harem ;  the  curses  of  mothers,  the  tears  and 
infamy  of  daughters  ?  Miserable  man !  thou  “  hast  done  evil 
as  thou  couldst :  ”  thy  whole  existence  seems  one  hideous 
abortion  and  mistake  of  Nature  ;  the  use  and  meaning  of  thee 
not  yet  known.  Wert  thou  a  fabulous  Griffin,  devouring  the 

1  Campan,  iii.  39. 


mf 
uiour  ? 


22 


DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 


BookI. 

174. 


works  of  men ;  daily  dragging  virgins  to  thy  cave ;  —  clad  alo 
in  scales  that  no  spear  would  pierce  :  no  spear  but  Deaths? 

A  Griffin  not  fabulous  but  real !  Frightful,  0  Louis,  seen 
these  moments  for  thee. — We  will  pry  no  further  in>  th&  v, 
horrors  of  a  sinner’s  death-bed. 


And  yet  let  no  meanest  man  lay  flattering  unction  o  his 
soul.  Louis  was  a  Ruler ;  but  art  not  thou  also  one  ?  His 
wide  France,  look  at  it  from  the  Fixed  Stars  (themselve  not 
yet  Infinitude),  is  no  wider  than  thy  narrow  brickfield,  vhere 
thou  too  didst  faithfully,  or  didst  unfaithfully.  Man,  “  Syabol 
of  Eternity  imprisoned  into  Time  !  ”  it  is  not  thy  works,  wiich 
are  all  mortal,  infinitely  little,  and  the  greatest  no  greater  han 
the  least,  but  only  the  Spirit  thou  workest  in,  that  can  lave 
worth  or  continuance. 

But  reflect,  in  any  case,  what  a  life-problem  this  of  joor 
Louis,  when  he  rose  as  Bien-Aime  from  that  Metz  sick-led, 
really  was  !  What  son  of  Adam  could  have  swayed  such 
incoherences  into  coherence  ?  Could  he  ?  Blindest  Fortune 
alone  has  cast  him  on  the  top  of  it :  he  swims  there ;  earn  as 
little  sway  it  as  the  drift-log  sways  the  wind-tossed  mobn- 
stirred  Atlantic.  “  What  have  I  done  to  be  so  loved  ?  r  ihe 
said  then.  He  may  say  now:  What  have  I  done  to  be  I  so 
hated  ?  Thou  hast  done  nothing,  poor  Louis  !  Thy  faultl  is 
properly  even  this,  that  thou  didst  nothing.  What  could  p®or 
Louis  do  ?  Abdicate,  and  wash  his  hands  of  it,  — in  favor  l  of 
the  first  that  would  accept !  Other  clear  wisdom  there  wjas 
none  for  him.  As  it  was,  he  stood  gazing  dubiously,  tjhe 
absurdest  mortal  extant,  a  very  Solecism  Incarnate,  into  tjhe 
absurdest  confused  world  ;  —  wherein  at  last  nothing  seemfcd 
so  certain  as  this,  That  he,  the  incarnate  Solecism,  had  filve 
senses;  that  there  were  Flying  Tables  ( Tables  Volantes,  whilch 
vanish  through  the  floor,  to  come  back  reloaded),  and  a  Par 
aux-cerfs. 

Whereby  at  least  we  have  again  this  historical  curiosity  : 
a  human  being  in  an  original  position ;  swimming  passively, 
as  on  some  boundless  “  Mother  of  Dead  Dogs,”  towards  issues 
which  he  partly  saw.  For  Louis  had  withal  a  kind  of  insight 


t  1 


Chap.  IV.  LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEN.  28 

1774. 

in  him.  So,  when  a  new  Minister  of  Marine,  or  what  else  it 
might  be,  came  announcing  his  new  era,  the  Scarlet-woman 
would  hear  from  the  lips  of  Majesty  at  supper :  “  Yes,  he 
spread  out  his  ware  like  another ;  promised  the  beautifulest 
things  in  the  world  ;  not  a  thing  of  which  will  come  :  he  does 
not  know  this  region ;  he  will  see.”  Or  again :  “  ’T  is  the 
twentieth  time  I  have  heard  all  that ;  France  will  never  get 
a  Navy,  I  believe.”  How  touching  also  was  this:  “If  I  were 
Lieutenant  of  Police,  I  would  prohibit  those  Paris  cabrio¬ 
lets.”  1 

Doomed  mortal ;  —  for  is  it  not  a  doom  to  be  Solecism  incar¬ 
nate  !  A  new  Roi  Faineant ,  King  Donothing ;  but  with  the 
strangest  new  Mayor  of  the  Palace :  no  bow-legged  Pepin  now 
for  Mayor ,  but  that  same  cloud-capt,  fire-breathing  Spectre  of 
Democracy  ;  incalculable,  which  is  enveloping  the  world  !  — 
Was  Louis,  then,  no  wickeder  than  this  or  the  other  private 
Donothing  and  Eatall ;  such  as  we  often  enough  see,  under  the 
name  of  Man  of  Pleasure,  cumbering  God’s  diligent  Creation, 
for  a  time  ?  Say,  wretcheder !  His  Life-solecism  was  seen 
and  felt  of  a  whole  scandalized  world ;  him  endless  Oblivion 
cannot  engulf,  and  swallow  to  endless  depths,  —  not  yet  for  a 
generation  or  two. 

However,  be  this  as  it  will,  we  remark,  not  without  interest, 
that,  “  on  the  evening  of  the  4th,”  Dame  Dubarry  issues  from 
the  sick-room,  with  perceptible  “trouble  in  her  visage.”  It 
is  the  fourth  evening  of  May,  year  of  Grace  1774.  Such  a 
whispering  in  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf !  Is  he  dying,  then?  What 
can  be  said  is,  that  Dubarry  seems  making  up  her  packages ; 
she  sails  weeping  through  her  gilt  boudoirs,  as  if  taking 
leave.  D’Aiguillon  and  Company  are  near  their  last  card; 
nevertheless  they  will  not  yet  throw  up  the  game.  But  as  for 
the  sacramental  controversy,  it  is  as  good  as  settled  without 
being  mentioned;  Louis  sends  for  his  Abbe  Moudon  in  the 
course  of  next  night ;  is  confessed  by  him,  some  say  for  the 
space  of  “seventeen  minutes,”  and  demands  the  sacraments 
of  his  own  accord. 

1  Journal  cle  Madame  de  Ilausset,  p.  293,  &c. 


24  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I. 

1774. 

Kay  already,  in  the  afternoon,  behold  is  not  this  your  Sor¬ 
ceress  Dubarry  with  the  handkerchief  at  her  eyes,  mounting 
D’Aiguillon’s  chariot ;  rolling  oft'  in  his  Duchess’s  consolatory 
arms  ?  She  is  gone  :  and  her  place  knows  her  no  more.  Van¬ 
ish,  false  Sorceress ;  into  Space !  Needless  to  hover  at 
neighboring  Ruel ;  for  thy  day  is  done.  Shut  are  the  royal 
palace-gates  forevermore ;  hardly  in  coming  years  shalt  thou, 
under  cloud  of  night,  descend  once,  in  black  domino,  like  a 
black  night-bird,  and  disturb  the  fair  Antoinette’s  music-party 
in  the  Park ;  all  Birds  of  Paradise  flying  from  thee,  and  musi¬ 
cal  windpipes  growing  mute.1  Thou  unclean,  yet  unmalig- 
nant,  not  unpitiable  thing  !  What  a  course  was  thine :  from 
that  first  truckle-bed  (in  Joan  of  Arc’s  country)  where  thy 
mother  bore  thee,  with  tears,  to  an  unnamed  father :  forward, 
through  lowest  subterranean  depths,  and  over  highest  sunlit 
heights,  of  Harlotdom  and  Rascaldom —  to  the  guillotine- 
axe,  which  shears  away  thy  vainly  whimpering  head  !  Rest 
there  uncursed  ;  only  buried  and  abolished  :  what  else  befitted 
thee  ? 

Louis,  meanwhile,  is  in  considerable  impatience  for  his 
sacraments ;  sends  more  than  once  to  the  window,  to  see 
whether  they  are  not  coming.  Be  of  comfort,  Louis,  what 
comfort  thou  canst :  they  are  under  way,  those  sacraments. 
Towards  six  in  the  morning,  they  arrive.  Cardinal  Grand- 
Almoner  Roche-Aymon  is  here  in  pontificals,  with  his  pyxes 
and  his  tools :  he  approaches  the  royal  pillow ;  elevates  his 
wafer;  mutters  or  seems  to  mutter  somewhat;  —  and  so  (as 
the  Abbe  Georgel,  in  words  that  stick  to  one,  expresses  it)  has 
Louis  u  made  the  amende  honorable  to  God :  ”  so  does  your 
Jesuit  construe  it.  —  “  Wa,  Wa,”  as  the  wild  Clotaire  groaned, 
out,  when  life  was  departing,  u  What  great  God  is  this  that 
pulls  down  the  strength  of  the  strongest  kings  !  ”  2 

The  amende  honorable ,  what  “  legal  apology  ”  you  will,  to 
God  :  —  but  not,  if  D’ Aiguillon  can  help  it,  to  man.  Dubarry 
still  hovers  in  his  mansion  at  Ruel ;  and  while  there  is  life, 
there  is  hope.  Grand- Almoner  Roche-Aymon,  accordingly  (for 

1  Campari,  i.  197. 

2  Gregorius  Turouensis :  Histor.  lib.  iv.  cap.  21. 


Chap.  IV.  LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEN.  25 

1774. 

he  seems  to  be  in  the  secret),  has  no  sooner  seen  his  pyxes 
and  gear  repacked,  than  he  is  stepping  majestically  forth  again, 
as  if  the  work  were  done  !  But  King’s  Confessor  Abbe  Mou- 
don  starts  forward ;  with  anxious  acidulent  face,  twitches  him 
by  the  sleeve ;  whispers  in  his  ear.  Whereupon  the  poor  Car¬ 
dinal  has  to  turn  round ;  and  declare  audibly,  “  that  his  Maj¬ 
esty  repents  of  any  subjects  of  scandal  he  may  have  given  ( a 
pu  donner)  ;  and  purposes,  by  the  strength  of  Heaven  assisting 
him,  to  avoid  the  like  —  for  the  future  !  ”  Words  listened  to 
by  Richelieu  with  mastiff-face,  growing  blacker ;  and  answered 
to,  aloud,  “  with  an  epithet,”  - —  which  Besenval  will  not  re¬ 
peat.  Old  Richelieu,  conqueror  of  Minorca,  companion  of 
Flying-Table  orgies,  perforator  of  bedroom  walls,1  is  thy  day 
also  done  ? 

Alas,  the  Chapel  organs  may  keep  going ;  the  Shrine  of 
Sainte  Genevieve  be  let  down,  and  pulled  up  again,  —  without 
effect.  In  the  evening  the  whole  Court,  with  Dauphin  and 
Dauphiness,  assist  at  the  Chapel :  priests  are  hoarse  with 
chanting  their  “Prayers  of  Forty  Hours;”  and  the  heaving 
bellows  blow.  Almost  frightful !  For  the  very  heaven  black¬ 
ens  ;  battering  rain-torrents  dash,  with  thunder  ;  almost  drown¬ 
ing  the  organ’s  voice :  and  electric  fire-flashes  make  the  very 
flambeaux  on  the  altar  pale.  So  that  the  most,  as  we  are  told, 
retired,  when  it  was  over,  with  hurried  steps,  “in  a  state  of 
meditation  ( recueillement ),”  and  said  little  or  nothing.2 

So  it  has  lasted  for  the  better  half  of  a  fortnight ;  the 
Dubarry  gone  almost  a  week.  Besenval  says,  all  the  world 
was  getting  impatient  que  cela  finit ;  that  poor  Louis  would 
have  done  with  it.  It  is  now  the  10th  of  May,  1774.  He  will 
soon  have  done  now. 

This  tenth  May  day  falls  into  the  loathsome  sick-bed ;  but 
dull,  unnoticed  there  :  for  they  that  look  out  of  the  windows 
are  quite  darkened ;  the  cistern-wheel  moves  discordant  on  its 
axis  ;  Life,  like  a  spent  steed,  is  panting  towards  the  goal.  In 
their  remote  apartments,  Dauphin  and  Dauphiness  stand  road- 
ready  ;  all  grooms  and  equerries  booted  and  spurred :  waiting 

1  Besenval,  i.  159-172.  Genlis  ;  Due.  de  Levis,  &c.. 

2  Weber:  Me  moires  concernant  Marie- Antoinette  (London,  1609),  i.  22. 


26  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV.  Book  I 

10th  May,  1774. 

for  some  signal  to  escape  the  house  of  pestilence.1  And,  hark ! 
across  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  what  sound  is  that ;  sound  “  terrible 
and  absolutely  like  thunder  ”  ?  It  is  the  rush  of  the  whole 
Court,  rushing  as  in  wager,  to  salute  the  new  Sovereigns :  Hail 
to  your  Majesties !  The  Dauphin  and  Dauphiness  are  King 
and  Queen  !  Overpowered  with  many  emotions,  they  two  fall 
on  their  knees  together,  and,  with  streaming  tears,  exclaim, 
“  0  God,  guide  us,  protect  us  ;  we  are  too  young  to  reign  !  ”  — 
Too  young  indeed. 

But  thus,  in  any  case,  “  with  a  sound  absolutely  like  thunder,” 
has  the  Horologe  of  Time  struck,  and  an  old  Era  passed  away. 
The  Louis  that  was,  lies  forsaken,  a  mass  of  abhorred  clay ; 
abandoned  “  to  some  poor  persons,  and  priests  of  the  Chapelle 
Ardente  ,”  —  who  make  haste  to  put  him  “  in  two  lead  coffins, 
pouring  in  abundant  spirits  of  wine.”  The  new  Louis  with 
his  Court  is  rolling  towards  Choisy,  through  the  summer  after¬ 
noon  :  the  royal  tears  still  flow ;  but  a  word  mispronounced  by 
Monseigneur  d’ Artois  sets  them  all  laughing,  and  they  weep 
no  more.  Light  mortals,  how  ye  walk  your  light  life-minuet, 

over  bottomless  abysses,  divided  from  you  by  a  film  ! 

« 

For  the  rest,  the  proper  authorities  felt  that  no  Funeral 
could  be  too  unceremonious.  Besenval  himself  thinks  it  was 
unceremonious  enough.  Two  carriages  containing  two  noble¬ 
men  of  the  usher  species,  and  a  Versailles  clerical  person; 
some  score  of  mounted  pages,  some  fifty  palfreniers :  these, 
with  torches,  but  not  so  much  as  in  black,  start  from  Versailles 
on  the  second  evening,  with  their  leaden  bier.  At  a  high  trot 
they  start ;  and  keep  up  that  pace.  For  the  gibes  ( brocards ) 
of  those  Parisians,  who  stand  planted  in  two  rows,  all  the  way 
to  St.  Denis,  and  “  give  vent  to  their  pleasantry,  the  character- 

1  One  grudges  to  interfere  with  the  beautiful  theatrical  “  candle,”  which 
Madame  Campan  (i.  79)  has  lit  on  this  occasion,  and  blown  out  at  the  moment 
of  death.  What  candles  might  be  lit  or  blown  out,  in  so  large  an  Establish¬ 
ment  as  that  of  Versailles,  no  man  at  such  distance  would  like  to  affirm  :  at 
the  same  time,  as  it  was  two  o’clock  in  a  May  Afternoon,  and  these  royal  Sta¬ 
bles  must  have  been  some  five  or  six  hundred  yards  from  the  royal  sick-room, 
the  “candle”  does  threaten  to  go  out  in  spite  of  us.  It  remains  burning  in¬ 
deed  —  in  her  fantasy ;  throwing  light  on  much  in  those  Memoires  of  hers. 


LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEN. 


27 


Chap.  IY. 

1774. 

istic  of  tlie  nation/’  do  not  tempt  one  to  slacken.  Towards 
midnight  the  vaults  of  St.  Denis  receive  their  own :  unwept 
by  any  eye  of  all  these ;  if  not  by  poor  Loque  his  neglected 
Daughter’s,  whose  Nunnery  is  hard  by. 

Him  they  crush  down,  and  huddle  underground,  in  this  im¬ 
patient  way ;  him  and  his  era  of  sin  and  tyranny  and  shame  : 
for  behold  a  New  Era  is  come :  the  future  all  the  brighter  that 
the  past  was  base. 


BOOK  II. 


'THE  PAPER  AGE. 

- f - 

CHAPTER  I. 

ASTRiEA  REDUX. 

A  paradoxical  philosopher,  carrying  to  the  uttermost 
length  that  aphorism  of  Montesquieu’s,  “Happy  the  people 
whose  annals  are  tiresome,”  has  said,  “  Happy  the  people 
whose  annals  are  vacant.”  In  which  saying,  mad  as  it  looks, 
may  there  not  still  be  found  some  grain  of  reason  ?  For  truly, 
as  it  has  been  written,  “  Silence  is  divine,”  and  of  Heaven ;  so 
in  all  earthly  things  too  there  is  a  silence  which  is  better  than 
any  speech.  Consider  it  well,  the  Event,  the  thing  which  can 
be  spoken  of  and  recorded,  is  it  not,  in  all  cases,  some  disrup¬ 
tion,  some  solution  of  continuity  ?  Were  it  even  a  glad  Event, 
it  involves  change,  involves  loss  (of  active  Force) ;  and  so  far, 
either  in  the  past  or  in  the  present,  is  an  irregularity,  a  disease. 
Stillest  perseverance  were  our  blessedness ;  not  dislocation  and 
alteration,  —  could  they  be  avoided. 

The  oak  grows  silently,  in  the  forest,  a  thousand  years ; 
only  in  the  thousandth  year,  when  the  woodman  arrives  with 
his  axe,  is  there  heard  an  echoing  through  the  solitudes ;  and 
the  oak  announces  itself  when,  wdth  far-sounding  crash,  it  falls. 
How  silent  too  was  the  planting  of  the  acorn ;  scattered  from 
the  lap  of  some  wandering  wind !  Hay,  when  our  oak  flowered, 
or  put  on  its  leaves  (its  glad  Events),  what  shout  of  proclama¬ 
tion  could  there  be  ?  Hardly  from  the  most  observant  a  word 
of  recognition.  These  things  befell  not,  they  were  slowly  done  ; 
not  in  an  hour,  but  through  the  flight  of  days :  vrhat  was  to  be 


ASTRyEA  REDUX. 


29 


Chap.  I.  _ _ 

1774-84. 

said,  of  it  ?  This  hour  seemed  altogether  as  the  last  was,  as 
the  next  would  be. 

It  is  thus  everywhere  that  foolish  Rumor  babbles  not  of 
what  was  done,  but  of  what  was  misdone  or  undone ;  and  fool¬ 
ish  History  (ever,  more  or  less,  the  written  epitomized  synop¬ 
sis  of  Rumor)  knows  so  little  that  were  not  as  well  unknown. 
Attila  Invasions,  Walter-the-Penniless  Crusades,  Sicilian  Ves¬ 
pers,  Thirty-Years  Wars  :  mere  sin  and  misery;  not  work,  but 
hindrance  of  work  !  For  the  Earth,  all  this  while,  was  yearly 
green  and  yellow  with  her  kind  harvests;  the  hand  of  the 
craftsman,  the  mind  of  the  thinker  rested  not :  and  so,  after 
all,  and  in  spite  of  all,  we  have  this  so  glorious  high-domed 
blossoming  World ;  concerning  which,  poor  History  may  well 
ask,  with  wonder,  Whence  it  came  ?  She  knows  so  little  of 
it,  knows  so  much  of  what  obstructed  it,  what  would  have 
rendered  it  impossible.  Such,  nevertheless,  by  necessity  or 
foolish  choice,  is  her  rule  and  practice  ;  whereby  that  paradox, 
“  Happy  the  people  whose  annals  are  vacant,”  is  not  without 
its  true  side. 


And  yet,  what  seems  more  pertinent  to  note  here,  there  is 
a  stillness,  not  of  unobstructed  growth,  but  of  passive  inert¬ 
ness,  the  symptom  of  imminent  downfall.  As  victory  is  silent, 
so  is  defeat.  Of  the  opposing  forces  the  weaker  has  resigned 
itself ;  the  stronger  marches  on,  noiseless  now,  but  rapid,  in¬ 
evitable  :  the  fall  and  overturn  will  not  be  noiseless.  How  all 
grows,  and  has  its  period,  even  as  the  herbs  of  the  fields,  be  it 
annual,  centennial,  millennial !  All  grows  and  dies,  each  by 
its  own  wondrous  laws,  in  wondrous  fashion  of  its  own ;  spirit¬ 
ual  things  most  wondrously  of  all.  Inscrutable,  to  the  wisest, 
are  these  latter ;  not  to  be  prophesied  of,  or  understood.  If 
when  the  oak  stands  proudliest  flourishing  to  the  eye,  you 
know  that  its  heart  is  sound,  it  is  not  so  with  the  man ;  how 
much  less  with  the  Society,  with  the  Nation  of  men  !  Of  such 
it  may  be  affirmed  even  that  the  superficial  aspect,  that  the 
inward  feeling  of  full  health,  is  generally  ominous.  For  indeed 
it  is  of  apoplexy,  so  to  speak,  and  a  plethoric  lazy  habit  of 
body,  that  Churches,  Kingships,  Social  Institutions,  oftenest 


30  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1774-84. 

die.  Sad,  when  such  Institution  plethorically  says  to  itself, 
Take  thy  ease,  thou  hast  goods  laid  up ;  —  like  the  fool  of  the 
Gospel,  to  whom  it  was  answered,  Fool,  this  night  thy  life  shall 
be  required  of  thee ! 

Is  it  the  healthy  peace,  or  the  ominous  unhealthy,  that  rests 
on  France,  for  these  next  Ten  Years?  Over  which  the  His¬ 
torian  can  pass  lightly,  without  call  to  linger:  for  as  yet 
events  are  not,  much  less  performances.  Time  of  sunniest 
stillness ;  —  shall  we  call  it,  what  all  men  thought  it,  the  new 
Age  of  Gold  ?  Call  it  at  least,  of  Paper ;  which  in  many  ways 
is  the  succedaneum  of  Gold.  Bank-paper,  wherewith  you  can 
still  buy  when  there  is  no  gold  left ;  Book-paper,  splendent 
with  Theories,  Philosophies,  Sensibilities,  —  beautiful  art,  not 
only  of  revealing  Thought,  but  also  of  so  beautifully  hiding 
from  us  the  want  of  Thought !  Paper  is  made  from  the  rags 
of  things  that  did  once  exist ;  there  are  endless  excellences  in 
Paper.  —  What  wisest  Philosophe,  in  this  halcyon  uneventful 
period,  could  prophesy  that  there  was  approaching,  big  with 
darkness  and  confusion,  the  event  of  events  ?  Hope  ushers 
in  a  Revolution,  —  as  earthquakes  are  preceded  by  bright 
weather.  On  the  Fifth  of  May,  fifteen  years  hence,  old  Louis 
will  not  be  sending  for  the  Sacraments ;  but  a  new  Louis,  his 
grandson,  with  the  whole  pomp  of  astonished  intoxicated 
France,  will  be  opening  the  States-General. 

Dubarrydom  and  its  H’Aiguillons  are  gone  forever.  There 
is  a  young,  still  docile,  well-intentioned  King ;  a  young,  beau¬ 
tiful  and  bountiful,  well-intentioned  Queen ;  and  with  them 
all  France,  as  it  were,  become  young.  Maupeou  and  his  Par- 
lement  have  to  vanish  into  thick  night;  respectable  Magis¬ 
trates,  not  indifferent  to  the  Nation,  were  it  only  for  having 
been  opponents  of  the  Court,  descend  now  unchained  from 
their  “  steep  rocks  at  Croe  in  Combrailles  ”  and  elsewhere,  and 
return  singing  praises :  the  old  Parlement  of  Paris  resumes 
its  functions.  Instead  of  a  profligate  bankrupt  Abbe  Terray, 
we  have  now,  for  Controller-General,  a  virtuous  philosophic 
Turgot,  with  a  whole  Reformed  France  in  his  head.  By  whom 
whatsoever  is  wrong,  in  Finance  or  otherwise,  will  be  righted,  — 


ASTILEA  REDUX. 


31 


Chap.  I. 

1774-84. 

as  far  as  possible.  Is  it  not  as  if  Wisdom  herself  were  hence¬ 
forth  to  have  seat  and  voice  in  the  Council  of  Kings  ?  Turgot 
has  taken  office  with  the  noblest  plainness  of  speech  to  that 
effect;  been  listened  to  with  the  noblest  royal  trustfulness.1 
It  is  true,  as  King  Louis  objects,  “  They  say  he  never  goes  to 
mass ;  ”  but  liberal  France  likes  him  little  worse  for  that ; 
liberal  France  answers,  “  The  Abbe  Terray  always  went.” 
Philosophism  sees,  for  the  first  time,  a  Philosophe  (or  even 
a  Philosopher)  in  office-:  she  in  all  things  will  applausively 
second  him;  neither  will  light  old  Maurepas  obstruct,  if  he 
can  easily  help  it. 

Then  how  “  sweet  ”  are  the  manners ;  vice  “  losing  all  its 
deformity ;  ”  becoming  decent  (as  established  things,  making 
regulations  for  themselves,  do) ;  becoming  almost  a  kind  of 
“  sweet  ”  virtue  !  Intelligence  so  abounds ;  irradiated  by  wit 
and  the  art  of  conversation.  Philosophism  sits  joyful  in  her 
glittering  saloons,  the  dinner-guest  of  Opulence  grown  in¬ 
genuous,  the  very  nobles  proud  to  sit  by  her ;  and  preaches, 
lifted  up  over  all  Bastilles,  a  coming  millennium.  From 
far  Ferney,  Patriarch  Voltaire  gives  sign :  veterans  Diderot, 
D’Alembert  have  lived  to  see  this  day;  these  with  their 
younger  Marmontels,  Morellets,  Chamforts,  Raynals,  make 
glad  the  spicy  board  of  rich  ministering  Dowager-,  of  philo¬ 
sophic  Farmer-General.  0  nights  and  suppers  of  the  gods  ! 
Of  a  truth,  the  long-demonstrated  will  now  be  done :  “  the 
Age  of  Revolutions  approaches  ”  (as  Jean  Jacques  wrote),  but 
then  of  happy  blessed  ones.  Man  awakens  from  his  long 
somnambulism;  chases  the  Phantasms  that  beleaguered  and 
bewitched  him.  Behold  the  new  morning  glittering  down  the 
eastern  steeps ;  fly,  false  Phantasms,  from  its  shafts  of  light ; 
let  the  Absurd  fly  utterly,  forsaking  this  lower  Earth  forever. 
It  is  Truth  and  Astrcea  Itedux  that  (in  the  shape  of  Philoso¬ 
phism)  henceforth  reign.  For  what  imaginable  purpose  was 
man  made,  if  not  to  be  “  happy  ”  ?  By  victorious  Analysis, 
and  Progress  of  the  Species,  happiness  enough  now  awaits 
him.  Kings  can  become  philosophers ;  or  else  philosophers 

1  Turgot’s  Letter:  Condorcet,  Vie  de  Turgot.  ( (Euvres  de  Condorcet,  t.  v.), 
p.  67.  The  date  is  24th  August,  1774. 


32 


THE  PAPER  AGE. 


i 

Book  II. 
1774-84. 

Kings.  Let  but  Society  be  once  rightly  constituted,  —  by  vic¬ 
torious  Analysis.  The  stomach  that  is  empty  shall  be  filled ; 
the  throat  that  is  dry  shall  be  wetted  with  wine.  Labor  itself 
shall  be  all  one  as  rest;  not  grievous,  but  joyous.  Wheat- 
fields,  one  would  think,  cannot  come  to  grow  untilled ;  no  man 
made  clayey,  or  made  weary  thereby ;  —  unless  indeed  ma¬ 
chinery  will  do  it?  Gratuitous  Tailors  and  Restaurateurs 
may  start  up,  at  fit  intervals,  one  as  yet  sees  not  how.  But 
if  each  will,  according  to  rule  of  Benevolence,  have  a  care  for 
all,  then  surely  —  no  one  will  be  uncared  for.  Kay,  who 
knows  but,  by  sufficiently  victorious  Analysis,  “  human  life 
may  be  indefinitely  lengthened,”  and  men  get  rid  of  Death,  as 
they  have  already  done  of  the  Devil  ?  We  shall  then  be  happy 
in  spite  of  Death  and  the  Devil.  —  So  preaches  magniloquent 
Philosophism  her  Redeunt  Saturnia  regna. 

The  prophetic  song  of  Paris  and  its  Philosophes  is  audible 
enough  in  the  Versailles  CEil-de-Boeuf ;  and  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf, 
intent  chiefly  on  nearer  blessedness,  can  answer,  at  worst,  with 
a  polite  “  Why  not  ?  ”  Good  old  cheery  Maurepas  is  too  joyful 
a  Prime  Minister  to  dash  the  world’s  joy.  Sufficient  for  the 
day  be  its  own  evil.  Cheery  old  man,  he  cuts  his  jokes,  and 
hovers  careless  along ;  his  cloak  well  adjusted  to  the  wind,  if 
so  be  he  may  please  all  persons.  The  simple  young  King, 
whom  a  Maurepas  cannot  think  of  troubling  with  business, 
has  retired  into  the  interior  apartments ;  taciturn,  irresolute ; 
though  with  a  sharpness  of  temper  at  times :  he,  at  length, 
determines  on  a  little  smith-work ;  and  so,  in  apprenticeship 
with  a  Sieur  Gamain  (whom  one  day  he  shall  have  little  cause 
to  bless),  is  learning  to  make  locks.1  It  appears  further,  he 
understood  Geography ;  and  could  read  English.  Unhappy 
young  King,  his  childlike  trust  in  that  foolish  old  Maurepas 
deserved  another  return.  But  friend  and  foe,  destiny  and 
himself  have  combined  to  do  him  hurt. 

Meanwhile  the  fair  young  Queen,  in  her  halls  of  state,  walks 
like  a  goddess  of  Beauty,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes ;  as  yet 
mingles  not  with  affairs ;  heeds  not  the  future ;  least  of  all, 
dreads  it.  Weber  and  Campan2  have  pictured  her,  there 
1  Campan,  i.  125.  2  lb.  i.  100-151.  Weber,  i.  11-50. 


ASTRiEA  REDUX. 


Chav.  I. 
1774-84. 


within  the  royal  tapestries,  in  bright  boudoirs,  baths,  peign¬ 
oirs,  and  the  Grand  and  Little  Toilette ;  with  a  whole  bril¬ 
liant  world  waiting  obsequious  on  her  glance :  fair  young 
daughter  of  Time,  what  things  has  Time  in  store  for  thee ! 
Like  Earth’s  brightest  Appearance,  she  moves  gracefully,  en¬ 
vironed  with  the  grandeur  of  Earth  :  a  reality,  and  yet  a  magic 
vision ;  for,  behold,  shall  not  utter  Darkness  swallow  it !  The 
soft  young  heart  adopts  orphans,  portions  meritorious  maids, 
delights  to  succor  the  poor,  —  such  poor  as  come  picturesquely 
in  her  way ;  and  sets  the  fashion  of  doing  it ;  for,  as  was  said, 
Benevolence  has  now  begun  reigning.  In  her  Duchess  de 
Polignac,  in  her  Princess  de  Lamballe,  she  enjoys  something 
almost  like  friendship  :  now  too,  after  seven  long  years,  she 
has  a  child,  and  soon  even  a  Dauphin,  of  her  own ;  can  reckon 
herself,  as  Queens  go,  happy  in  a  husband. 

Events  ?  The  grand  events  are  but  charitable  Feasts  of 
Morals  {Fetes  des  moeurs),  with  their  Prizes  and  Speeches  ; 
Poissarde  Processions  to  the  Dauphin’s  cradle ;  above  all,  Flir¬ 
tations,  their  rise,  progress,  decline  and  fall.  There  are  Snow- 
statues  raised  by  the  poor  in  hard  winter,  to  a  Queen  who  has 
given  them  fuel.  There  are  masquerades,  theatricals ;  beauti- 
fyings  of  Little  Trianon,  purchase  and  repair  of  St.  Cloud  ; 
journeyings  from  the  summer  Court-Elysium  to  the  winter 
one.  There  are  poutings  and  grudgings  from  the  Sardinian 
Sisters-in-law  (for  the  Princes  too  are  wedded)  ;  little  jealous¬ 
ies,  which  Court-Etiquette  can  moderate.  Wholly  the  lightest- 
hearted  frivolous  foam  of  Existence :  yet  an  artfully  refined 
foam ;  pleasant  were  it  not  so  costly,  like  that  which  mantles 
on  the  wine  of  Champagne  ! 

Monsieur,  the  King’s  elder  Brother,  has  set  up  for  a  kind 
of  wit ;  and  leans  towards  the  Philosophe  side.  Monseigneur 
d’ Artois  pulls  the  mask  from  a  fair  impertinent  ;  fights  a  duel 
in  consequence,  —  almost  drawing  blood.1  He  has  breeches 
of  a  kind  new  in  this  world  ;  —  a  fabulous  kind ;  “  four  tall 
lackeys,”  says  Mercier,  as  if  he  had  seen  it,  “  hold  him  up  in 
the  air,  that  he  may  fall  into  the  garment  without  vestige  of 
wrinkle ;  from  which  rigorous  encasement  the  same  four,  in 

1  Besenval,  ii.  282-330. 

3 


VOL.  III. 


34 


THE  PAPER  AGE. 


Book  II. 
1774-84. 


the  same  way,  and  with  more  effort,  have  to  deliver  him  at 
night. 1  This  last  is  he  who  now,  as  a  gray  time-worn  man, 
sits  desolate  at  Gratz ; 2  having  winded  up  his  destiny  with 
the  Three  Days.  In  such  sort  are  poor  mortals  swept  and 
shovelled  to  and  fro. 


- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  II. 

PETITION  IN  HIEROGLYPHS. 

With  the  working  people,  again,  it  is  not  so  well.  Unlucky ! 
Eor  there  are  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  millions  of  them. 
Whom,  however,  we  lump  together  into  a  kind  of  dim  compen¬ 
dious  unity,  monstrous  but  dim,  far  off,  as  the  canaille  ;  or, 
more  humanely,  as  “  the  masses.”  Masses  indeed :  and  yet, 
singular  to  say,  if,  with  an  effort  of  imagination,  thou  follow 
them,  over  broad  France,  into  their  clay  hovels,  into  their 
garrets  and  hutches,  the  masses  consist  all  of  units.  Every 
unit  of  whom  has  his  own  heart  and  sorrows ;  stands  covered 
there  with  his  own  skin,  and  if  you  prick  him  he  will  bleed. 
0  purple  Sovereignty,  Holiness,  Reverence ;  thou,  for  exam¬ 
ple,  Cardinal  Grand- Almoner,  with  thy  plush  covering  of  honor, 
who  hast  thy  hands  strengthened  with  dignities  and  moneys, 
and  art  set  on  thy  world  watch-tower  solemnly,  in  sight  of 
God,  for  such  ends,  —  what  a  thought :  that  every  unit  of 
these  masses  is  a  miraculous  Man,  even  as  thou  thyself  art ; 
struggling,  with  vision  or  with  blindness,  for  his  infinite  King¬ 
dom  (this  life  which  he  has  got,  once  only,  in  the  middle  of 
Eternities) ;  with  a  spark  of  the  Divinity,  what  thou  callest 
an  immortal  soul,  in  him  ! 

Dreary,  languid  do  these  struggle  in  their  obscure  remote¬ 
ness  ;  their  hearth  cheerless,  their  diet  thin.  For  them,  in 
this  world,  rises  no  Era  of  Hope ;  hardly  now  in  the  other,  — 
if  it  be  not  hope  in  the  gloomy  rest  of  Death,  for  their  faith 
too  is  failing.  Untaught,  uncomforted,  unfed  !  A  dumb  gen- 
1  Merrier :  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  147.  2  a.d.  1834. 


Chap.  II.  PETITION  IN  HIEROGLYPHS.  35 

1774-84. 

eration ;  their  voice  only  an  inarticulate  cry  :  spokesman,  in 
the  King’s  Council,  in  the  world’s  forum,  they  have  none  that 
finds  credence.  At  rare  intervals  (as  now,  in  1775),  they  will 
fling  down  their  hoes  and  hammers  ;  and,  to  the  astonishment 
of  thinking  mankind,1  flock  hither  and  thither,  dangerous, 
aimless  ;  get  the  length  even  of  Versailles.  Turgot  is  altering 
the  Corn-trade,  abrogating  the  absurdest  Corn-laws  ;  there  is 
dearth,  real,  or  were  it  even  “  factitious  ;  ”  an  indubitable 
scarcity  of  bread.  And  so,  on  the  second  day  of  May,  1775, 
these  waste  multitudes  do  here,  at  Versailles  Chateau,  in  wide¬ 
spread  wretchedness,  in  sallow  faces,  squalor,  winged  ragged¬ 
ness,  present,  as  in  legible  hieroglyphic  writing,  their  Petition 
of  Grievances.  The  Chateau  gates  have  to  be  shut ;  but  the 
King  will  appear  on  the  balcony,  and  speak  to  them.  They 
have  seen  the  King’s  face ;  their  Petition  of  Grievances  has 
been,  if  not  read,  looked  at.  For  answer,  two  of  them  are 
hanged,  on  a  “new  gallows  forty  feet  high;”  and  the  rest 
driven  back  to  their  dens,  —  for  a  time. 

Clearly  a  difficult  “  point”  for  Government,  that  of  dealing 
with  these  masses ;  —  if  indeed  it  be  not  rather  the  sole  point 
and  problem  of  Government,  and  all  other  points  mere  acci¬ 
dental  crotchets,  superficialities,  and  beatings  of  the  wind  ! 
For  let  Charter-Chests,  Use  and  Wont,  Law  common  and 
special  say  what  they  will,  the  masses  count  to  so  many  mil¬ 
lions  of  units;  made,  to  all  appearance,  by  God,  —  whose 
Earth  this  is  declared  to  be.  Besides,  these  people  are  not 
without  ferocity ;  they  have  sinews  and  indignation.  Do  but 
'l°ok  what  holiday  old  Marquis  Mirabeau,  the  crabbed  old 
Friend  of  Men,  looked  on,  in  these  same  years,  from  his 
lodging,  at  the  Baths  of  Mont  d’Or  :  u  The  savages  descend¬ 
ing  in  torrents  from  the  mountains ;  our  people  ordered  not 
to  go  out.  The  Curate  in  surplice  and  stole  ;  Justice  in  its 
peruke ;  Marechausee  sabre  in  hand,  guarding  the  place  till 
the  bagpipes  can  begin.  The  dance  interrupted,  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  by  battle ;  the  cries,  the  squealings  of  children,  of 
infirm  persons,  and  other  assistants,  tarring  them  on,  as  the 

1  Lacretelle  :  France  pendant  le  18”“  Slide,  ii.  455.  •  Biographie  Universelle, 

§  Turgot  (by  Durozoir). 


36 


THE  PAPER  AGE. 


Book  II. 
1774-84. 


rabble  does  when  dogs  fight :  frightful  men,  or  rather  fright¬ 
ful  wild  animals,  clad  in  jupes  of  coarse  woollen,  with  large 
girdles  of  leather  studded  with  copper  nails  ;  of  gigantic  stat¬ 
ure,  heightened  by  high  wooden  clogs  (sabots)  ;  rising  on  tiptoe 
to  see  the  fight :  tramping  time  to  it ;  rubbing  their  sides  with 
their  elbows :  their  faces  haggard  (< figures  haves),  and  covered 
with  their  long  greasy  hair ;  the  upper  part  of  the  visage 
waxing  pale,  the  lower  distorting  itself  into  the  attempt  at 
a  cruel  laugh  and  a  sort  of  ferocious  impatience.  And  these 
people  pay  the  tattle !  And  you  want  further  to  take  their 
salt  from  them !  And  you  know  not  what  it  is  you  are  strip¬ 
ping  barer,  or  as  you  call  it,  governing;  what,  by  the  spurt 
of  your  pen,  in  its  cold  dastard  indifference,  you  will  fancy 
you  can  starve  always  with  impunity;  always  till  the  catas¬ 
trophe  come  !  —  Ah,  Madame,  such  Government  by  Blind-man’s- 
buff,  stumbling  along  too  far,  will  end  in  the  General  Oven 
turn  ( culbute  generate)”  1 

Undoubtedly  a  dark  feature  this  in  an  Age  of  Gold,  —  Age, 
at  least,  of  Paper  and  Hope  !  Meanwhile,  trouble  us  not  with 
thy  prophecies,  0  croaking  Friend  of  Men :  ’t  is  long  that  we 
have  heard  such ;  and  still  the  old  world  keeps  wagging,  in  its 
old  way. 


o- 


CHAPTER  III. 

QUESTIONABLE. 

Or  is  this  same  Age  of  Hope  itself  but  a  simulacrum ;  as 
Hope  too  often  is  ?  Cloud-vapor  with  rainbows  painted  on  it, 
beautiful  to  see,  to  sail  towards, — which  hovers  over  Niagara 
Falls  ?  In  that  case,  victorious  Analysis  will  have  enough 
to  do. 

Alas,  yes !  a  whole  world  to  remake,  if  she  could  see  it : 
work  for  another  than  she  !  For  all  is  wrong,  and  gone  out  of 

1  Memoir es  de  Mirabeau,  ecrits  par  Lui-meme,  par  son  Pere,  son  Oncle  et 
son  Fils  Adoptif  (Paris,  1834-35),  ii.  186. 


QUESTIONABLE. 


37 


Chap.  III. 

1774-84. 

joint ;  the  inward  spiritual,  and  the  outward  economical ;  head 
or  heart,  there  is  no  soundness  in  it.  As  indeed,  evils  of  all 
sorts  are  more  or  less  of  kin,  and  do  usually  go  together :  espe¬ 
cially  it  is  an  old  truth,  that  wherever  huge  physical  evil  is, 
there,  as  the  parent  and  origin  of  it,  has  moral  evil  to  a  pro¬ 
portionate  extent  been.  Before  those  five-and-twenty  laboring 
Millions,  for  instance,  could  get  that  haggardness  of  face, 
which  old  Mirabeau  now  looks  on,  in  a  Nation  calling  itself 
Christian,  and  calling  man  the  brother  of  man,  —  what  unspeak¬ 
able,  nigh-infinite  Dishonesty  (of  seeming  and  not  being)  in  all 
manner  of  Eulers,  and  appointed  Watchers,  spiritual  and  tem¬ 
poral,  must  there  not,  through  long  ages,  have  gone  on  accumu¬ 
lating  !  It  will  accumulate  :  moreover,  it  will  reach  a  head  ; 
for  the  first  of  all  Gospels  is  this,  that  a  Lie  cannot  endure 
forever. 

In  fact,  if  we  pierce  through  that  rose-pink  vapor  of  Sen¬ 
timentalism,  Philanthropy,  and  Feasts  of  Morals,  there  lies 
behind  it  one  of  the  sorriest  spectacles.  You  might  ask,  What 
bonds  that  ever  held  a  human  society  happily  together,  or 
held  it  together  at  all,  are  in  force  here  ?  It  is  an  unbelieving 
people  ;  which  has  suppositions,  hypotheses,  and  froth-systems 
of  victorious  Analysis ;  and  for  belief  this  mainly,  that  Pleas¬ 
ure  is  pleasant.  Hunger  they  have  for  all  sweet  things  ;  and 
the  law  of  Hunger :  but  what  other  law  ?  Within  them,  or 
over  them,  properly  none  ! 

Their  King  has  become  a  King  Popinjay :  with  his  Mau- 
repas  Government,  gyrating  as  the  weather-cock  does,  blown 
about  by  every  wind.  Above  them  they  see  no  God ;  or  they 
even  do  not  look  above,  except  with  astronomical  glasses. 
The  Church  indeed  still  is  ;  but  in  the  most  submissive  state ; 
quite  tamed  by  Philosophism ;  in  a  singularly  short  time  ;  for 
the  hour  was  come.  Some  twenty  years  ago,  your  Archbishop 
Beaumont  would  not  even  let  the  poor  J ansenists  get  buried : 
your  Lomenie  Brienne  (a  rising  man,  whom  we  shall  meet 
with  yet)  could,  in  the  name  of  the  Clergy,  insist  on  having 
the  Anti-protestant  Laws,  which  condemn  to  death  for  preach¬ 
ing,  “  put  in  execution.” 1  And  alas,  now  not  so  much  as 

1  Boissy  d’Anglas :  Vie  de  Malesherbes,  i.  15-22. 


38  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1774-84. 

Baron  Holbach’s  Atheism  can  be  burnt,  —  except  as  pipe- 
matches  by  the  private  speculative  individual.  Our  Church 
stands  haltered,  dumb,  like  a  dumb  ox ;  lowing  only  for  prov¬ 
ender  (of  tithes) ;  content  if  it  can  have  that ;  or,  with  dumb 
stupor,  expecting  its  further  doom.  And  the  Twenty  Millions 
of  "  haggard  faces ;  ”  and,  as  finger-post  and  guidance  to  them 
in  their  dark  struggle,  “  a  gallows  forty  feet  high  ”  !  Certainly 
a  singular  Golden  Age ;  with  its  Feasts  of  Morals,  its  “  sweet 
manners/’  its  sweet  institutions  (institutions  douces) ;  betoken¬ 
ing  nothing  but  peace  among  men! — Peace?  0  Philosophe- 
Sentimentalism,  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  peace,  when  thy 
mother’s  name  is  Jezebel?  Foul  Product  of  still  fouler  Cor¬ 
ruption,  thou  with  the  corruption  art  doomed ! 

Meanwhile  it  is  singular  how  long  the  rotten  will  hold  to¬ 
gether,  provided  you  do  not  handle  it  roughly.  For  whole 
generations  it  continues  standing,  “with  a  ghastly  affectation 
of  life,”  after  all  life  and  truth  have  fled  out  of  it :  so  loth  are 
men  to  quit  their  old  ways  ;  and,  conquering  indolence  and 
inertia,  venture  on  new.  Great  truly  is  the  Actual ;  is  the 
Thing  that  has  rescued  itself  from  bottomless  deeps  of  theory 
and  possibility,  and  stands  there  as  a  definite  indisputable 
Fact,  whereby  men  do  work  and  live,  or  once  did  so.  Wisely 
shall  men  cleave  to  that,  while  it  will  endure;  and  quit  it 
with  regret,  when  it  gives  way  under  them.  Rash  enthusiast 
of  Change,  beware  !  Hast  thou  well  considered  all  that  Habit 
does  in  this  life  of  ours;  how  all  Knowledge  and  all  Prac¬ 
tice  hang  wondrous  over  infinite  abysses  of  the  Unknown, 
Impracticable ;  and  our  whole  being  is  an  infinite  abyss,  over¬ 
arched  by  Habit,  as  by  a  thin  Earth-rind,  laboriously  built 
together  ? 

But  if  “  every  man,”  as  it  has  been  written,  “  holds  confined 
within  him  a  mad- man,”  what  must  every  Society  do  ;  —  So¬ 
ciety,  which  in  its  commonest  state  is  called  “the  standing 
miracle  of  this  world  ”  !  “  Without  such  Earth-rind  of  Habit,” 
continues  our  author,  “  call  it  System  of  Habits,  in  a  word, 
fixed  ways  of  acting  and  of  believing,  —  Society  would  not 
exist  at  all.  With  such  it  exists,  better  or  worse.  Herein  too, 


Chap.  III.  QUESTIONABLE.  39 

1774-84. 

in  this  its  System  of  Habits,  acquired,  retained  how  you  will, 
lies  the  true  Law-Code  and  Constitution  of  a  Society  ;  the  only 
Code,  though  an  unwritten  one,  which  it  can  in  no  wise  dis¬ 
obey.  The  thing  we  call  written  Code,  Constitution,  Eorm  of 
Government,  and  the  like,  what  is  it  but  some  miniature  im¬ 
age,  and  solemnly  expressed  summary  of  this  unwritten  Code  ? 
Is,  —  or  rather,  alas,  is  not ;  but  only  should  be,  and  always 
tends  to  be !  In  which  latter  discrepancy  lies  struggle  with¬ 
out  end.”  And  now,  we  add  in  the  same  dialect,  let  but,  by 
ill  chance,  in  such  ever-enduring  struggle,  —  your  “  thin  Earth- 
rind  ”  be  once  broken  !  The  fountains  of  the  great  deep  boil 
forth  ;  fire-fountains,  enveloping,  engulfing.  Your  “  Earth- 
rind  ”  is  shattered,  swallowed  up ;  instead  of  a  green  flowery 
world,  there  is  a  waste  wild-weltering  chaos ;  —  which  has 
again,  with  tumult  and  struggle,  to  make  itself  into  a  world. 

On  the  other  hand,  be  this  conceded :  Where  thou  findest  a 
Lie  that  is  oppressing  thee,  extinguish  it.  Lies  exist  there 
only  to  be  extinguished  ;  they  wait  and  cry  earnestly  for 
extinction.  Think  well,  meanwhile,  in  what  spirit  thou  wilt 
do  it :  not  with  hatred,  with  headlong  selfish  violence ;  but  in 
clearness  of  heart,  with  holy  zeal,  gently,  almost  with  pity. 
Thou  wouldst  not  replace  such  extinct  Lie  by  a  new  Lie, 
which  a  new  Injustice  of  thy  own  were ;  the  parent  of  still 
other  Lies  ?  Whereby  the  latter  end  of  that  business  were 
worse  than  the  beginning. 

So,  however,  in  this  world  of  ours,  which  has  both  an  inde¬ 
structible  hope  in  the  Future,  and  an  indestructible  tendency 
to  persevere  as  in  the  Past,  must  Innovation  and  Conservation 
wage  their  perpetual  conflict,  as  they  may  and  can.  Wherein 
the  “  demonic  element,”  that  lurks  in  all  human  things,  may 
doubtless,  some  once  in  the  thousand  years,  —  get  vent !  But 
indeed  may  we  not  regret  that  such  conflict  —  which,  after 
all,  is  but  like  that  classical  one  of  “  hate-filled  Amazons  with 
heroic  Youths,”  and  will  end  in  embraces  —  should  usually 
be  so  spasmodic  ?  For  Conservation,  strengthened  by  that 
mightiest  quality  in  us,  our  indolence,  sits  for  long  ages,  not 
victorious  only,  which  she  should  be ;  but  tyrannical,  incom¬ 
municative.  She  holds  her  adversary  as  if  annihilated ;  such 


40  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1774-81. 

adversary  lying,  all  the  while,  like  some  buried  Enceladus  ; 
who,  to  gain  the  smallest  freedom,  has  to  stir  a  whole  Trinacria 
with  its  iEtnas. 

Wherefore,  on  the  whole,  we  will  honor  a  Paper  Age  too ; 
an  Era  of  hope!  For  in  this  same  frightful  process  of  Encela¬ 
dus  Revolt ;  when  the  task,  on  which  no  mortal  would  will¬ 
ingly  enter,  has  become  imperative,  inevitable,  —  is  it  not 
even  a  kindness  of  Nature  that  she  lures  us  forward  by  cheer¬ 
ful  promises,  fallacious  or  not  ;  and  a  whole  generation  plunges 
into  the  Erebus  Blackness,  lighted  on  by  an  Era  of  Hope  ?  It 
has  been  well  said :  “  Man  is  based  on  Hope ;  he  has  properly 
no  other  possession  but  Hope  ;  this  habitation  of  his  is  named 
the  Place  of  Hoped’ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MAUftEPAS. 

But  now,  among  French  hopes,  is  not  that  of  old  M.  de 
Maurepas  one  of  the  best-grounded ;  who  hopes  that  he,  by 
dexterity,  shall  contrive  to  continue  Minister  ?  Nimble  old 
man,  who  for  all  emergencies  has  his  light  jest  j  and  ever  in 
the  worst  confusion  will  emerge,  cork-like,  unsunk  !  Small 
care  to  him  is  Perfectibility,  Progress  of  the  Species,  and 
Astrcea  Redux :  good  only,  that  a  man  of  light  wit,  verging 
towards  fourscore,  can  in  the  seat  of  authority  feel  himself 
important  among  men.  Shall  we  call  him,  as  haughty  Chateau- 
roux  was  wont  of  old,  “  M.  Faquinet  (Diminutive  of  Scoun¬ 
drel)  ”  ?  In  courtier  dialect,  he  is  now  named  “  the  Nestor  of 
France ;  ”  such  governing  Nestor  as  France  has. 

At  bottom,  nevertheless,  it  might  puzzle  one  to  say  where 
the  Government  of  France,  in  these  days,  specially  is.  In 
that  Chateau  of  Versailles,  we  have  Nestor,  King,  Queen, 
ministers  and  clerks,  with  paper  bundles  tied  in  tape  :  but  the 
Government  ?  For  Government  is  a  thing  that  governs .  that 
guides;  and  if  need  be,  compels.  Visible  in  France  there  is 


Chap.  IV.  MAUREPAS.  41 

1774-81. 

not  such  a  thing.  Invisible,  inorganic,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  :  in  Philosophe  saloons,  in  (Eil-de-Boeuf  galleries ;  in 
the  tongue  of  the  babbler,  in  the  pen  of  the  pamphleteer. 
Her  Majesty  appearing  at  the  Opera  is  applauded ;  she  re¬ 
turns  all  radiant  with  joy.  Anon  the  applauses  wax  fainter, 
or  threaten  to  cease ;  she  is  heavy  of  heart,  the  light  of  her 
face  has  fled.  Is  Sovereignty  some  poor  Montgolfier ;  which, 
blown  into  by  the  popular  wind,  grows  great  and  mounts ;  or 
sinks  flaccid,  if  the  wind  be  withdrawn  ?  France  was  long 
a  “  Despotism  tempered  by  Epigrams  ;  ”  and  now,  it  would 
seem,  the  Epigrams  have  got  the  upper  hand. 

Happy  were  a  young  “  Louis  the  Desired  ”  to  make  France 
happy  ;  if  it  did  not  prove  too  troublesome,  and  he  only  knew 
the  way.  But  there  is  endless  discrepancy  round  him ;  so 
many  claims  and  clamors  ;  a  mere  confusion  of  tongues.  Not 
reconcilable  by  man ;  not  manageable,  suppressible,  save  by 
some  strongest  and  wisest  man;  — which  only  a  lightly  jesting 
lightly  gyrating  M.  de  Maurepas  can  so  much  as  subsist  amidst. 
Philosophism  claims  her  new  Era,  meaning  thereby  innumer¬ 
able  things.  And  claims  it  in  no  faint  voice ;  for  France  at 
large,  hitherto  mute,  is  now  beginning  to  speak  also  ;  and 
speaks  in  that  same  sense.  A  huge,  many-toned  sound ;  dis¬ 
tant,  yet  not  unimpressive.  On  the  other  hand,  the  CEil-de- 
Boeuf,  which,  as  nearest,  one  can  hear  best,  claims  with  shrill 
vehemence  that  the  Monarchy  be  as  heretofore  a  Horn  of 
Plenty;  wherefrom  loyal  courtiers  may  draw,  —  to  the  just 
support  of  the  throne.  Let  Liberalism  and  a  New  Era,  if 
such  is  the  wish,  be  introduced ;  only  no  curtailment  of  the 
royal  moneys !  Which  latter  condition,  alas,  is  precisely  the 
impossible  one. 

Philosophism,  as  we  saw,  has  got  her  Turgot  made  Con¬ 
troller-General  ;  and  there  shall  be  endless  reformation.  Un¬ 
happily  this  Turgot  could  continue  only  twenty  months.  With 
a  miraculous  Fortunatus ’  Furse  in  his  Treasury,  it  might  have 
lasted  longer  ;  with  such  Purse,  indeed,  every  French  Con¬ 
troller-General,  that  would  prosper  in  these  days,  ought  first 
to  provide  himself.  But  here  again  may  we  not  remark  the 
bounty  of  Nature  in  regard  to  Hope  ?  Man  after  man  ad- 


42  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1774-81. 

vances  confident  to  the  Augean  Stable,  as  if  lie  could  clean  it ; 
expends  liis  little  fraction  of  an  ability  on  it,  with  such  cheer¬ 
fulness  ;  does,  in  so  far  as  he  was  honest,  accomplish  some¬ 
thing.  Turgot  has  faculties ;  honesty,  insight,  heroic  volition ; 
but  the  Fortunatus’  Purse  he  has  not.  Sanguine  Controller- 
General  !  a  whole  pacific  French  Revolution  may  stand  schemed 
in  the  head  of  the  thinker ;  but  who  shall  pay  the  unspeakable 
“  indemnities  ”  that  will  be  needed  ?  Alas,  far  from  that :  on 
the  very  threshold  of  the  business,  he  proposes  that  the 
Clergy,  the  Noblesse,  the  very  Parlements  be  subjected  to 
taxes  like  the  People !  One  shriek  of  indignation  and  aston¬ 
ishment  reverberates  through  all  the  Chateau  galleries ;  M.  de 
Maurepas  has  to  gyrate  :  the  poor  King,  who  had  written  few 
weeks  ago,  “  II  rCy  a  que  vous  et  moi  qui  aimions  le  peuple 
(There  is  none  but  you  and  I  that  has  the  people’s  interest 
at  heart),”  must  write  now  a  dismissal  ; 1  and  let  the  French 
Revolution  accomplish  itself,  pacifically  or  not,  as  it  can. 

Hope,  then,  is  deferred  ?  Deferred  ;  not  destroyed,  or  abated. 
Is  not  this,  for  example,  our  Patriarch  Voltaire,  after  long 
years  of  absence,  revisiting  Paris  ?  With  face  shrivelled  to 
nothing ;  with  “  huge  peruke  a  la  Louis  Quatorze,  which  leaves 
only  two  eyes  visible,  glittering  like  carbuncles,”  the  old  man 
is  here.2  What  an  outburst !  Sneering  Paris  has  suddenly 
grown  reverent ;  devotional  with  Hero-worship.  Nobles  have 
disguised  themselves  as  tavern-waiters  to  obtain  sight  of  him  : 
the  loveliest  of  France  would  lay  their  hair  beneath  his  feet. 
“  His  chariot  is  the  nucleus  of  a  Comet ;  whose  train  fills 
whole  streets  :  ”  they  crown  him  in  the  theatre,  with  immortal 
vivats ;  finally  “  stifle  him  under  roses,”  —  for  old  Richelieu 
recommended  opium  in  such  state  of  the  nerves,  and  the  exces¬ 
sive  Patriarch  took  too  much.  Her  Majesty  herself  had  some 
thought  of  sending  for  him  ;  but  was  dissuaded.  Let  Majesty 
consider  it,  nevertheless.  The  purport  of  this  man’s  existence 
has  been  to  wither  up  and  annihilate  all  whereon  Majesty  and 
Worship  for  the  present  rest :  and  is  it  so  that  the  world  rec¬ 
ognizes  him  ?  With  Apotheosis;  as  its  Prophet  and  Speaker, 

1  In  May,  1776.  2  February,  1778. 


Chap.  IV.  MAUREPAS.  43 

1774-81. 

who  has  spoken  wisely  the  thing  it  longed  to  say  ?  Add  only 
that  the  body  of  this  same  rose-stifled,  beatified  Patriarch  can¬ 
not  get  buried  except  by  stealth.  It  is  wholly  a  notable  busi¬ 
ness;  and  Prance,  without  doubt,  is  big  (what  the  Germans 
call  “  Of  good  Hope  ”) :  we  shall  wish  her  a  happy  birth-hour, 
and  blessed  fruit. 

Beaumarchais  too  has  now  winded  up  his  Law-Pleadings 
(Memoires)  ; 1  not  without  result,  to  himself  and  to  the  world. 
Caron  Beaumarchais  (or  de  Beaumarchais,  for  he  got  ennobled) 
had  been  born  poor,  but  aspiring,  esurient  ;  with  talents, 
audacity,  adroitness  ;  above  all,  with  the  talent  for  intrigue : 
a  lean,  but  also  a  tough  indomitable  man.  Fortune  and  dex¬ 
terity  brought  him  to  the  harpsichord  of  Mesdames,  our  good 
Princesses  Loque,  Graille  and  Sisterhood.  Still  better,  Paris 
Duvernier,  the  Court-Banker,  honored  him  with  some  confi¬ 
dence  ;  to  the  length  even  of  transactions  in  cash.  Which 
confidence,  however,  Duvernier’s  Heir,  a  person  of  quality, 
would  not  continue.  Quite  otherwise;  there  springs  a  Law¬ 
suit  from  it :  wherein  tough  Beaumarchais,  losing  both  money 
and  repute,  is,  in  the  opinion  of  Judge-Beporter  Goezman,  of 
the  Parlement  Maupeou,  and  of  a  whole  indifferent  acquies¬ 
cing  world,  miserably  beaten.  In  all  men’s  opinion,  only  not 
in  his  own !  Inspired  by  the  indignation,  which  makes,  if  not 
verses,  satirical  law-papers,  the  withered  Music-master,  with  a 
desperate  heroism,  takes  up  his  lost  cause  in  spite  of  the 
world ;  fights  for  it,  against  Reporters,  Parlements  and  Prin¬ 
cipalities,  with  light  banter,  with  clear  logic;  adroitly,  with 
an  inexhaustible  toughness  and  resource,  like  the  skilfulest 
fencer ;  on  whom,  so  skilful  is  he,  the  whole  world  now  looks. 
Three  long  years  it  lasts ;  with  wavering  fortune.  In  fine, 
after  labors  comparable  to  the  Twelve  of  Hercules,  our  uncon¬ 
querable  Caron  triumphs ;  regains  his  Lawsuit  and  Lawsuits  ; 
strips  Reporter  Goezman  of  the  judicial  ermine  ;  covering  him 
with  a  perpetual  garment  of  obloquy  instead :  —  and  in  re-' 
gard  to  the  Parlement  Maupeou  (which  he  has  helped  to  extin- 

1  1773-76.  See  (Euvres  de  Beaumarchais ;  where  they  and  the  history  of 
them,  are  given. 


THE  PAPER  AGE. 


44 


Book  II. 
1776-85. 


guish),  to  Parlements  of  all  kinds,  and  to  Trench  Justice  gen¬ 
erally,  gives  rise  to  endless  reflections  in  the  minds  of  men. 
Thus  has  Beaumarchais,  like  a  lean  French  Hercules,  ventured 
down,  driven  by  destiny,  into  the  Nether  Kingdoms;  and  vic¬ 
toriously  tamed  hell-dogs  there.  He  also  is  henceforth  among 
the  notabilities  of  his  generation. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

ASTRiEA  REDUX  WITHOUT  CASH. 

Observe,  however,  beyond  the  Atlantic,  has  not  the  new 
day  verily  dawned  !  Democracy,  as  we  said,  is  born ;  storm- 
girt,  is  struggling  for  life  and  victory.  A  sympathetic  France 
rejoices  over  the  Rights  of  Man ;  in  all  saloons,  it  is  said, 
What  a  spectacle!  Now  too  behold  our  Deane,  our  Franklin, 
American  Plenipotentiaries,  here  in  person  soliciting : 1  the 
sons  of  the  Saxon  Puritans,  with  their  Old-Saxon  temper,  Old- 
Hebrew  culture,  sleek  Silas,  sleek  Benjamin,  here  on  such 
errand,  among  the  light  children  of  Heathenism,  Monarchy, 
Sentimentalism,  and  the'  Scarlet-woman.  A  spectacle  indeed ; 
over  which  saloons  may  cackle  joyous ;  though  Kaiser  Joseph, 
questioned  on  it,  gave  this  answer,  most  unexpected  from  a 
Philosophe :  “  Madame,  the  trade  I  live  by  is  that  of  royalist 
( Mon  metier  a  moi  c’est  d’etre  royaliste).” 

So  thinks  light  Maurepas  too ;  but  the  wind  of  Philosophism 
and  force  of  public  opinion  wbll  blow  him  round.  Best  wishes, 
meanwhile,  are  sent ;  clandestine  privateers  armed.  Paul  Jones 
shall  equip  his  Bon  Homme  Richard :  weapons,  military  stores 
can  be  smuggled  over  (if  the  English  do  not  seize  them) ; 
wherein,  once  more  Beaumarchais,  dimly  as  the  Griant  Smug¬ 
gler,  becomes  visible,  —  filling  his  own  lank  pocket  withal. 
But  surely,  in  any  case,  France  should  have  a  Navy.  For 
which  great  object  were  not  now  the  time ;  now  when  that 

1  1777  ;  Deane  somewhat  earlier:  Franklin  remained  till  1785. 


chap.  V.  ASTKiEA  EEDUX  WITHOUT  CASH.  45 

1776-85. 

proud  Termagant  of  the  Seas  has  her  hands  full  ?  It  is  true, 
an  impoverished  Treasury  cannot  build  ships  ;  but  the  hint 
once  given  (which  Beaumarchais  says  he  gave),  this  and  the 
other  loyal  Seaport,  Chamber  of  Commerce,  will  build  and 
offer  them.  Goodly  vessels  bound  into  the  waters ;  a  Ville  de 
Paris ,  Leviathan  of  ships. 

And  now  when  gratuitous  three-deckers  dance  there  at  an¬ 
chor,  with  streamers  flying ;  and  eleutheromaniac  Philosophe- 
dom  grows  ever  more  clamorous,  what  can  a  Maurepas  do  — 
but  gyrate  ?  Squadrons  cross  the  ocean  :  Gateses,  Lees,  rough 
Yankee  Generals,  “  with  woollen  nightcaps  under  their  hats,” 
present  arms  to  the  far-glancing  Chivalry  of  France;  and  new¬ 
born  Democracy  sees,  not  without  amazement,  “Despotism 
tempered  by  Epigrams  ”  fight  at  her  side.  So,  however,  it  is. 
King’s  forces  and  heroic  volunteers ;  Bochambeaus,  Bouilles, 
Lameths,  Lafayettes,  have  drawn  their  swords  in  this  sacred 
quarrel  of  mankind ;  —  shall  draw  them  again  elsewhere,  in  the 
strangest  way. 

Off  Dshant  some  naval  thunder  is  heard.  In  the  course  of 
which  did  our  young  Prince,  Duke  de  Chartres,  “  hide  in  the 
hold ;  ”  or  did  he  materially,  by  active  heroism,  contribute  to 
the  victory  ?  Alas,  by  a  second  edition,  we  learn  that  there 
was  no  victory ;  or  that  English  Keppel  had  it;1  Our  poor 
young  Prince  gets  his  Opera  plaudits  changed  into  mocking 
tehees ;  and  cannot  become  Grand-Admiral,  —  the  source  to 
him  of  woes  which  one  may  call  endless. 

Woe  also  for  Ville  de  Paris,  the  Leviathan  of  ships !  Eng¬ 
lish  Bodiiey  has  clutched  it,  and  led  it  home,  with  the  rest ;  so 
successful  was  his  “new  manoeuvre  of  breaking  the  enemy’s 
line.”  2  It  seems  as  if,  according  to  Louis  XV.,  “  France  were 
never  to  have  a  Navy.”  Brave  Suffren  must  return  from 
Hyder  Ally  and  the  Indian  Waters;  with  small  result;  yet 
with  great  glory  for  “  six  ”  non-defeats  ;  —  which  indeed,  with 
such  seconding  as  he  had,  one  may  reckon  heroic.  Let  the  old 
sea-hero  rest  now,  honored  of  France,  in  his  native  Cevennes 
mountains  ;  send  smoke,  not  of  gunpowder,  but  mere  culinary 
1  27th  July,  1778.  2  9th  and  12th  April,  1782. 


46  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1776-85. 

smoke,  through  the  old  chimneys  of  the  Castle  of  Jales, — 
which  one  day,  in  other  hands,  shall  have  other  fame.  Brave 
Laperouse  shall  by  and  by  lift  anchor,  on  philanthropic  Voyage 
of  Discovery  ;  for  the  King  knows  Geography.1  But,  alas,  this 
also  will  not  prosper :  the  brave  Navigator  goes,  and  returns 
not ;  the  Seekers  search  far  seas  for  him  in  vain.  He  lias 
vanished  trackless  into  blue  Immensity  ;  and  only  some  mourn¬ 
ful  mysterious  shadow  of  him  hovers  long  in  all  heads  and 
hearts. 

Neither,  while  the  War  yet  lasts,  will  Gibraltar  surrender. 
Not  though  Crillon,  Nassau-Siegen,  with  the  ablest  projectors 
extant,  are  there :  and  Prince  Conde  and  Prince  d’Artois  have 
hastened  to  help.  Wondrous  leather-roofed  Floating-batteries, 
set  afloat  by  French-Spanish  Pacte  de  Famille ,  give  gallant 
summons :  to  which,  nevertheless,  Gibraltar  answers  Plutoni- 
cally,  with  mere  torrents  of  red-hot  iron,  —  as  if  stone  Calpe 
had  become  a  throat  of  the  Pit ;  and  utters  such  a  Doom’s-blast 
of  a  No,  as  all  men  must  credit.2 

And  so,  with  this  loud  explosion,  the  noise  of  War  has 
ceased ;  an  Age  of  Benevolence  may  hope,  forever.  Our  noble 
volunteers  of  Freedom  have  returned,  to  be  her  missionaries. 
Lafayette,  as  the  matchless  of  his  time,  glitters  in  the  Ver¬ 
sailles  CEil-de-Boeuf ;  has  his  Bust  set  up  in  the  Paris  Hotel-de- 
Ville.  Democracy  stands  inexpugnable,  immeasurable,  in  her 
New  World;  has  even  a  foot  lifted  towards  the  Old;  —  and 
our  French  Finances,  little  strengthened  by  such  work,  are  in 
no  healthy  way. 

What  to  do  with  the  Finances  ?  This  indeed  is  the  great 
question :  a  small  but  most  black  weather-symptom,  which  no 
radiance  of  universal  hope  can  cover.  We  saw  Turgot  cast 
forth  from  the  Controllership,  with  shrieks,  —  for  want  of  a 
Fortunatus’  Purse.  As  little  could  M.  de  Clugny  manage  the 
duty ;  or  indeed  do  anything,  but  consume  his  wages ;  attain 
“a  place  in  History,”  where  as  an  ineffectual  shadow  thou 
beholdest  him  still  lingering ;  —  and  let  the  duty  manage 
itself.  Did  Genevese  Necker  possess  such  a  Purse,  then  ?  He 

1  August  1,  1785. 

2  Annual  Register  (Dodsley’s),  xxv.  258-267.  September,  October,  1782. 


Chap.  V.  ASTILEA  REDUX  WITHOUT  CASH.  47 

1776-85. 

possessed  banker’s  skill,  banker’s  honesty ;  credit  of  all  kinds, 
for  he  had  written  Academic  Prize  Essays,  struggled  for  India 
Companies,  given  dinners  to  Philosophes,  and  “realized  a  for¬ 
tune  in  twenty  years.”  He  possessed,  further,  a  taciturnity 
and  solemnity ;  of  depth,  or  else  of  dulness.  How  singular  for 
Celadon  Gibbon,  false  swain  as  he  had  proved ;  whose  father, 
keeping  most  probably  his  own  gig,  “  would  not  hear  of  such  a 
union,”  —  to  find  now  his  forsaken  Demoiselle  Curchod  sitting 
in  the  high  places  of  the  world,  as  Minister’s  Madame,  and 
“Necker  not  jealous  !  ”  1 

A  new  young  Demoiselle,  one  day  to  be  famed  as  a  Madame 
and  De  Stael,  was  romping  about  the  knees  of  the  Decline 
and  Pali :  the  lady  Necker  founds  Hospitals ;  gives  solemn 
Philosophe  dinner-parties,  to  cheer  her  exhausted  Controller- 
General.  Strange  things  have  happened :  by  clamor  of  Phi- 
losophism,  management  of  Marquis  de  Pezay,  and  Poverty 
constraining  even  Kings.  And  so  Necker,  Atlas-like,  sustains 
the  burden  of  the  Einances,  for  five  years  long.2  Without 
wages,  for  he  refused  such ;  cheered  only  by  Public  Opinion, 
and  the  ministering  of  his  noble  Wife.  With  many  thoughts 
in  him,  it  is  hoped ;  which,  however,  he  is  shy  of  uttering. 
His  Compte  Rendu ,  published  by  the  royal  permission,  fresh 
sign  of  a  New  Era,  shows  wonders;  —  which  what  but  the 
genius  of  some  Atlas-Necker  can  prevent  from  becoming  por¬ 
tents  ?  In  Necker ’s  head  too  there  is  a  whole  pacific  French 
Revolution,  of  its  kind;  and  in  that  taciturn  dull  depth,  or 
deep  dulness,  ambition  enough. 

Meanwhile,  alas,  his  Fortunatus’  Purse  turns  out  to  be  little 
other  than  the  old  “vectigal  of  Parsimony.”  Nay,  he  too  has 
to  produce  his  scheme  of  taxing :  Clergy,  Noblesse  to  be  taxed; 
Provincial  Assemblies,  and  the  rest,  —  like  a  mere  Turgot ! 
The  expiring  M.  de  Maurepas  must  gyrate  one  other  time. 
Let  Necker  also  depart;  not  unlamented. 

Great  in  a  private  station,  Necker  looks  on  from  the  dis¬ 
tance ;  abiding  his  time.  “Eighty  thousand  copies”  of  his 
new  Book,  which  he  calls  Administration  des  Finances ,  will  be 
sold  in  few  days.  He  is  gone;  but  shall  return,  and  that 
1  Gibbon’s  Letters:  date,  16th  June,  1777,  &c.  2  Till  May,  1781. 


48 


THE  PAPER  AGE. 


Book  II. 
177G-84. 


more  than  once,  borne  by  a  whole  shouting  Nation.  Singular 
Controller- General  of  the  Finances ;  once  Clerk  in  Thelusson’s 
Bank ! 


- » - 

CHAPTER  VI. 

WIND-BAGS. 

So  marches  the  world,  in  this  its  Paper  Age,  or  Era  of 
Hope.  Not  without  obstructions,  war-explosions  ;  which,  how¬ 
ever,  heard  from  such  distance,  are  little  other  than  a  cheer¬ 
ful  marching-music.  If  indeed  that  dark  living  chaos  of 
Ignorance  and  Hunger,  five-and-twenty  million  strong,  under 
your  feet,  were  to  begin  playing ! 

For  the  present,  however,  consider  Longchamp ;  now  when 
Lent  is  ending,  and  the  glory  of  Paris  and  France  has  gone 
forth,  as  in  annual  wont.  Not  to  assist  at  Tenebris  Masses, 
but  to  sun  itself  and  show  itself,  and  salute  the  young  Spring.1 
Manifold,  bright-tinted,  glittering  with  gold;  all  through  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  in  long-drawn  variegated  rows  ;  —  like  long- 
drawn  living  flower-borders,  tulips,  dahlias,  lilies  of  the  valley ; 
all  in  their  moving  flower-pots  (of  new-gilt  carriages)  :  pleasure 
of  the  eye,  and  pride  of  life !  So  rolls  and  dances  the  Proces¬ 
sion  :  steady,  of  firm  assurance,  as  if  it  rolled  on  adamant  and 
the  foundations  of  the  world;  not  on  mere  heraldic  parch¬ 
ment, —  under  which  smoulders  a  lake  of  fire.  Dance  on,  ye 
foolish  ones ;  ye  sought  not  wisdom,  neither  have  ye  found 
it.  Ye  and  your  fathers  have  sown  the  wind,  ye  shall  reap 
the  whirlwind.  Was  it  not,  from  of  old,  written :  The  wages 
of  sin  is  death  ? 

But  at  Longchamp,  as  elsewhere,  we  remark  for  one  thing, 
that  dame  and  cavalier  are  waited  on  each  by  a  kind  of  hu¬ 
man  familiar,  named  jokei.  Little  elf,  or  imp  ;  though  young, 
already  withered ;  with  its  withered  air  of  premature  vice, 
of  knowingness,  of  completed  elf-hood :  useful  in  various  emer- 

1  Mercier :  Tableau  de  Paris,  ii.  51.  Louvet:  Toman  de  Faublas,  &c. 


WIND-BAGS. 


49 


Chap.  VI. 

1776-84. 

gencies.  The  name  jokei  (jockey)  comes  from  the  English ; 
as  the  thing  also  fancies  that  it  does.  Our  Anglomania,  in 
fact,  is  grown  considerable ;  prophetic  of  much.  If  France  is 
to  be  free,  why  shall  she  not,  now  when  mad  war  is  hushed, 
love  neighboring  Freedom  ?  Cultivated  men,  your  Dukes  de 
Liancourt,  de  la  Rochefoucauld  admire  the  English  Constitu¬ 
tion,  the  English  National  Character ;  would  import  what  of 
it  they  can. 

Of  what  is  lighter,  especially  if  it  be  light  as  wind,  how 
much  easier  the  freightage  !  Non-Admiral  Duke  de  Chartres 
(not  yet  d’Orleans  or  Egalite)  flies  to  and  fro  across  the 
Strait ;  importing  English  Fashions :  this  he,  as  hand-and- 
glove  with  an  English  Prince  of  Wales,  is  surely  qualified  to 
do.  Carriages  and  saddles ;  top-boots  and  redingotes ,  as  we 
call  riding-coats.  Nay  the  very  mode  of  riding:  for  now  no 
man  on  a  level  with  his  age  but  will  trot  a  V Anglais e,  rising 
in  the  stirrups ;  scornful  of  the  old  sit-fast  method,  in  which, 
according  to  Shakspeare,  “ butter  and  eggs”  go  to  market. 
Also,  he  can  urge  the  fervid  wheels,  this  brave  Chartres  of 
ours  ;  no  whip  in  Paris  is  rasher  and  surer  than  the  unpro¬ 
fessional  one  of  Monseigneur. 

Elf  jokeis,  we  have  seen;  but  see  now  real  Yorkshire 
jockeys,  and  what  they  ride  on,  and  .train:  English  racers  for 
French  Races.  These  likewise  we  owe  first  (under  the  Provi¬ 
dence  of  the  Devil)  to  Monseigneur.  Prince  d’ Artois  also  has 
his  stud  of  racers.  Prince  d’ Artois  has , withal  the  strangest 
horseleech :  a  moon-struck,  much-enduring  individual,  of  Neu- 
chatel  in  Switzerland,  —  named  Jean  Paul  Marat.  A  prob¬ 
lematic  Chevalier  d’Eon,  now  in  petticoats,  now  in  breeches, 
is  no  less  problematic  in  London  than  in  Paris ;  and  causes 
bets  and  lawsuits.  Beautiful  days  of  international  commun¬ 
ion  !  Swindlery  and  Blackguardism  have  stretched  hands 
across  the  Channel,  and  saluted  mutually  :  on  the  race-course 
of  Vincennes  or  Sablons,  behold,  in  English  curricle-and- 
four,  wafted  glorious  among  the  principalities  and  rascalities, 
an  English  Dr.  Dodd,1  —  for  whom  also  the  too  early  gallows 
gapes. 

■  1  Adelung :  Geschichte  der  menschlichen  Narrheit,  §  Dodd. 

VOL.  III.  4 


50 


THE  PAPER  AGE. 


Book  II. 
1781-84. 

Duke  cle  Chartres  was  a  young  Prince  of  great  promise,  as 
young  princes  often  are ;  which  promise  unfortunately  has 
belied  itself.  With  the  huge  Orleans  Property,  with  Duke 
de  Pentliievre  for  Pather-in-law  (and  now  the  young  Brother- 
in-law  Lamballe  killed  by  excesses),  —  he  will  one  day  be  the 
richest  man  in  France.  Meanwhile,  “his  hair  is  all  falling 
out,  his  blood  is  quite  spoiled/5  —  by  early  transcendentalism 
of  debauchery.  Carbuncles  stud  his  face  ;  dark  studs  on  a  . 
ground  of  burnished  copper.  A  most  signal  failure,  this 
young  Prince !  The  stuff  prematurely  burnt  out  of  him : 
little  left  but  foul  smoke  and  ashes  of  expiring  sensualities : 
what  might  have  been  Thought,  Insight,  and  even  Conduct, 
gone  now,  or  fast  going,  —  to  confused  darkness,  broken  by 
bewildering  dazzlements  ;  to  obstreperous  crotchets  ;  to  ac¬ 
tivities  which  you  may  call  semi-delirious,  or  even  semi- 
galvanic  !  Paris  affects  to  laugh  at  his  charioteering ;  but 
he  heeds  not  such  laughter. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  a  day,  not  of  laughter,  was  that, 
when  he  threatened,  for  lucre’s  sake,  to  lay  sacrilegious  hand 
on  the  Palais-Royal  Garden ! 1  The  flower-parterres  shall 
be  riven  up ;  the  Chestnut  Avenues  shall  fall :  time-honored 
boscages,  under  which  the  Opera  Hamadryads  were  wont  to 
wander,  not  inexorable  to  .men.  Paris  moans  aloud.  Philidor, 
from  his  Cafe  de  la  Regence,  shall  no  longer  look  on  green¬ 
ness  ;  the  loungers  and  losels  of  the  world,  where  now  shall 
they  haunt  ?  In  vain  is  moaning.  The  axe  glitters ;  the 
sacred  groves  fall  crashing,  —  for  indeed  Monseigneur  was 
short  of  money :  the  Opera  Hamadryads  fly  with  shrieks. 
Shriek  not,  ye  Opera  Hamadryads ;  or  not  as  those  that  have 
no  comfort.  He  will  surround  your  Garden  with  new  edifices 
and  piazzas :  though  narrowed,  it  shall  be  replanted ;  dizened 
with  hydraulic  jets,  cannon  which  the  sun  fires  at  noon ; 
things  bodily,  things  spiritual,  such  as  man  has  not  imagined  ; 
—  and  in  the  Palais-Royal  shall  again,  and  more  than  ever, 
be  the  Sorcerer’s  Sabbath  and  Satan-at-Home  of  our  Planet. 

What  will  not  mortals  attempt  ?  From  remote  Annonay 
in  the  Vivarais,  the  Brothers  Montgolfier  send  up  their  paper- 

1  1781-82.  (Dulaure,  viii.  423.) 


WIND-BAGS. 


51 


Chap.  YI. 
1781-84. 


dome,  filled  with  the  smoke  of  burnt  wool.1  The  Vivarais 
Provincial  Assembly  is  to  be  prorogued  this  same  day :  Viva¬ 
rais  Assembly-members  applaud,  and  the  shouts  of  congre¬ 
gated  men.  Will  victorious  Analysis  scale  the  very  Heavens, 
then  ? 

Paris  hears  with  eager  wonder ;  Paris  shall  ere  long  see. 
From  Eeveillon’s  Paper-warehouse  there,  in  the  Eue  St. 
Antoine  (a  noted  Warehouse),  —  the  new  Montgolfier  air-ship 
launches  itself.  Ducks  and  poultry  have  been  borne  skyward  : 
but  now  shall  men  be  borne.2  Hay,  Chemist  Charles  thinks 
of  hydrogen  and  glazed  silk.  Chemist  Charles  will  himself 
ascend,  from  the  Tuileries  Garden ;  Montgolfier  solemnly  cut¬ 
ting  the  cord.  By  heaven,  this  Charles  does  also  mount,  he 
and  another  !  Ten  times  ten  thousand  hearts  go  palpitating  ; 
all  tongues  are  mute  with  wonder  and  fear; — till  a  shout, 
like  the  voice  of  seas,  rolls  after  him,  on  his  wild  way.  He 
soars,  he  dwindles  upwards ;  has  become  a  mere  gleaming 
circlet,  —  like  some  Turgotine  snuffbox,  what  we  call  “  Tur- 
gotine-Platitude ;  ”  like  some  new  daylight  Moon !  Finally 
he  descends  ;  welcomed  by  the  universe.  Duchess  Polignac, 
with  a  party,  is  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  waiting ;  though  it 
is  drizzly  winter,  the  1st  of  December,  1783.  The  whole  chiv¬ 
alry  of  France,  Duke  de  Chartres  foremost,  gallops  to  receive 
him.3 

Beautiful  invention;  mounting  heavenward,  so  beautifully, 
—  so  unguidably  !  Emblem  of  much,  and  iof  our  Age  of  Hope 
itself ;  which  shall  mount,  specifically  light,  majestically  in 
this  same  manner;  and  hover,  —  tumbling  whither  Fate  will. 
Well  if  it  do  not,  Pilatre-like,  explode ;  and  demount  all  the 
more  tragically  !  —  So,  riding  on  wind-bags,  will  men  scale  the 
Empyrean. 


Or  observe  Herr  Doctor  Mesmer,  in  his  spacious  Magnetic 
Halls.  Long-stoled  he  walks  ;  reverend,  glancing  upwards,  as 
in  rapt  commerce ;  an  Antique  Egyptian  Hierophant  in  this 

1  5th  June,  1783. 

2  October  and  November,  1783. 

3  Lacretelle  :  18me  Siec/e,  iii.  258. 


52  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1781-88. 

new  age.  Soft  music  flits ;  breaking  fitfully  tbe  sacred  still¬ 
ness.  Round  their  Magnetic  Mystery,  which  to  the  eye  is 
mere  tubs  with  water,  —  sit  breathless,  rod  in  hand,  the  circles 
of  Beauty  and  Fashion,  each  circle  a  living  circular  Passion- 
Flower  :  expecting  the  magnetic  afflatus,  and  new-manufactured 
Heaven-on-Earth.  0  women,  0  men,  great  is  your  infidel 
faith  !  A  Parlementary  Duport,  a  Bergasse.  D’Espremenil 
we  notice  there  ;  Chemist  Berthollet  too,  —  on  the  part  of 
Monseigneur  de  Chartres. 

Had  not  the  Academy  of  Sciences,  with  its  Baillys,  Frank¬ 
lins,  Lavoisiers,  interfered  !  But  it  did  interfere.1  Mesmer 
may  pocket  his  hard  money,  and  withdraw.  Let  him  walk 
silent  by  the  shore  of  the  Bodensee,  by  the  ancient  town  of 
Constance ;  meditating  on  much.  For  so,  under  the  strangest 
new  vesture,  the  old  great  truth  (since  no  vesture  can  hide 
it)  begins  again  to  be  revealed :  That  man  is  what  we  call  a 
miraculous  creature,  with  miraculous  power  over  men  ;  and, 
on  the  whole,  with  such  a  Life  in  him,  and  such  a  World 
round  him,  as  victorious  Analysis,  with  her  Physiologies, 
Nervous-systems,  Physic  and  Metaphysic,  will  never  com¬ 
pletely  name,-  to  say  nothing  of  explaining.  Wherein  also  the 
Quack  shall,  in  all  ages,  come  in  for  his  share. 


)  CHAPTER  YIT. 

CONTRAT  SOCIAL. 

v  In  such  succession  of  singular  prismatic  tints,  flush  after 
flush  suffusing  our  horizon,  does  the  Era  of  Hope  dawn  on 
towards  fulfilment.  Questionable  !  As  indeed,  with  an  Era 
of  Hope  that  rests  on  mere  universal  Benevolence,  victorious 
Analysis,  Vice  cured  of  its  deformity;  and,  in  the  long-run, 
on  Twenty-five  dark  savage  Millions,  looking  up,  in  hunger 
and  weariness,  to  that  Ecee-signum  of  theirs  “  forty  feet  high,” 
—  how  could  it  but  be  questionable  ? 

1  August,  1784. 


Chap.  VII.  CONTRAT  SOCIAL.  53 

1781-88. 

Through  all  time,  if  we  read  aright,  sin  was,  is,  will  be,  the 
parent  of  misery.  This  land  calls  itself  most  Christian,  and 
has  crosses  and  cathedrals ;  but  its  High-priest  is  some  Roche-  % 
Ay m on,  some  Necklace-Cardinal  Louis  de  Rohan.  The  voice  of 
the  poor,  through  long  years,  ascends  inarticulate,  in  Jacqueries, 
meal-mobs  ;  low-whimpering  of  infinite  moan  :  unheeded  of  the 
Earth;  not  unheeded  of  Heaven.  Always  moreover  where 
the  Millions  are  wretched,  there  are  the  Thousands  straitened, 
unhappy;  only  the  Units  can  flourish;  or  say  rather,  be  ruined 
the  last.  Industry,  all  noosed  and  haltered,  as  if  it  too  were 
some  beast  of  chase  for  the  mighty  hunters  of  this  world  to 
bait,  and  cut  slices  from,  —  cries  passionately  to  these  its  well- 
paid  guides  and  watchers,  not,  Guide  me ;  but,  Laissez  faire, 
Leave  me  alone  of  your  guidance  !  What  market  has  Industry 
in  this  France  ?  For  two  things  there  may  be  market  and 
demand :  for  the  coarser  kind  of  field-fruits,  since  the  Millions 
will  live :  for  the  finer  kinds  of  luxury  and  spicery,  —  of  multi¬ 
form  taste,  from  opera-melodies  down  to  racers  and  courtesans ; 
since  the  Units  will  be  amused.  It  is  at  bottom  but  a  mad 
state  of  things. 

To  mend  and  remake  all  which  we  have,  indeed,  victorious 
Analysis.  Honor  to  victorious  Analysis ;  nevertheless,  out 
of  the  Workshop  and  Laboratory,  what  thing  was  victorious 
Analysis  yet  known  to  make  ?  Detection  of  incoherences, 
mainly;  destruction  of  the  incoherent.  From  of  old,  Doubt 
was  but  half  a  magician ;  she  evokes  the  spectres  which  she 
cannot  quell.  We  shall  have  “  endless  vortices  of  froth-logic;” 
whereon  first  words,  and  then  things,  are  whirled  and  swal¬ 
lowed.  Remark,  accordingly,  as  acknowledged  grounds  of 
Hope,  at  bottom  mere  precursors  of  Despair,  this  perpetual 
theorizing  about  Man,  the  Mind  of  Man,  Philosophy  of  Gov¬ 
ernment,  Progress  of  the  Species  and  such  like ;  the  main 
Chinking  furniture  of  every  head.  Time,  and  so  many  Montes¬ 
quieus,  Mablys,  spokesmen  of  Time,  have  discovered  innumer¬ 
able  things:  and  now  has  not  Jean  Jacques  promulgated  his 
new  Evangel  of  a  Contrat  Social ;  explaining  the  whole  mys¬ 
tery  of  Government,  and  how  it  is  contracted  and  bargained 
for,  —  to  universal  satisfaction?  Theories  of  Government! 


54  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1781-88. 

Such  have  been,,  and  will  be  ;  in  ages  of  decadence.  Acknowl¬ 
edge  them  in  their  degree  j  as  processes  of  Nature,  who  does 
nothing  in  vain  ;  as  steps  in  her  great  process.  Meanwhile, 
what  theory  is  so  certain  as  this,  That  all  theories,  were  they 
never  so  earnest,  painfully  elaborated,  are,  and,  by  the  very 
conditions  of  them,  must  be  incomplete,  questionable,  and  even 
false  ?  Thou  shalt  know  that  this  Universe  is,  what  it  pro¬ 
fesses  to  be,  an  infinite  one.  Attempt  not  to  swallow  it ,  for 
thy  logical  digestion ;  be  thankful,  if  skilfully  planting  down 
this  and  the  other  fixed  pillar  in  the  chaos,  thou  prevent  its 
swallowing  thee.  That  a  new  young  generation  has  exchanged 
the  Sceptic  Creed,  What  shall  I  believe  ?  for  passionate  Faith 
in  this  Gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques  is  a  further  step  in 
the  business ;  and  betokens  much. 

Blessed  also  is  Hope ;  and  always  from  the  beginning  there 
was  some  Millennium  prophesied ;  Millennium  of  Holiness ; 
but  (what  is  notable)  never  till  this  new  Era,  any  Millennium 
of  mere  Ease  and  plentiful  Supply.  In  such  prophesied 
Lubberland,  of  Happiness,  Benevolence,  and  Vice  cured  of  its 
deformity,  trust  not,  my  friends !  Man  is  not  what  one  calls 
a  happy  animal ;  his  appetite  for  sweet  victual  is  so  enormous. 
How,  in  this  wild  Universe,  which  storms  in  on  him,  infinite, 
vague-menacing,  shall  poor  man  find,  say  not  happiness,  but 
existence,  and  footing  to  stand  on,  if  it  be  not  by  girding  him¬ 
self  together  for  continual  endeavor  and  endurance  ?  Woe,  if 
in  his  heart  there  dwelt  no  devout  Faith ;  if  the  word  Duty 
had  lost  its  meaning  for  him  !  For  as  to  this  of  Sentimental¬ 
ism,  so  useful  for  weeping  with  over  romances  and  on  pathetic 
occasions,  it  otherwise  verily  will  avail  nothing ;  nay  less.  The 
healthy  heart  that  said  to  itself,  aHovv  healthy  am  I!”  was 
already  fallen  into  the  fatalest  sort  of  disease.  Is  not  Senti¬ 
mentalism  twin-sister  to  Cant,  if  not  one  and  the  same  with  it  ? 

• 

Is  not  Cant  the  materia  prima  of  the  Devil ;  from  which  all 
falsehoods,  imbecilities,  abominations  body  themselves  ;  from 
which  no  true  thing  can  come  ?  For  Cant  is  itself  properly  a 
double-distilled  Lie  5  the  second-power  of  a  Lie. 

And  now  if  a  whole  Nation  fall  into  that  ?  In  such  case,  I 
answer,  infallibly  they  will  return  out  of  it !  For  life  is  no 


PRINTED  PAPER. 


55 


Chap.  YIII. 

1781-83. 

cunningly  devised  deception  or  self-deception :  it  is  a  great 
truth  that  thou  art  alive,  that  thou  hast  desires,  necessities ; 
neither  can  these  subsist  and  satisfy  themselves  on  delusions, 
but  on  fact.  To  fact,  depend  on  it,  we  shall  come  back :  to 
such  fact,  blessed  or  cursed,  as  we  have  wisdom  for.  The 
lowest,  least  blessed  fact  one  knows  of,  on  which  necessitous 
mortals  have  ever  based  themselves,  seems  to  be  the  primitive 
one  of  Cannibalism :  That  I  can  devour  Thee.  What  if  such 
Primitive  Fact  were  precisely  the  one  we  had  (with  our  im¬ 
proved  methods)  to  revert  to,  and  begin  anew  from ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PRINTED  PAPER. 

In  such  a  practical  France,  let  the  theory  of  Perfectibility 
say  what  it  will,  discontents  cannot  be  wanting :  your  promised 
Reformation  is  so  indispensable ;  yet  it  comes  not ;  who  will 
begin  it  —  with  himself  ?  Discontent  with  what  is  around  us, 
still  more  with  what  is  above  us,  goes  on  increasing ;  seeking 
ever  new  vents. 

Of  Street  Ballads,  of  Epigrams  that  from  of  old  tempered 
Despotism,  we  need  not  speak.  Nor  of  Manuscript  Newspapers 
( Nouvelles  a  la  main )  do  we  speak.  Bachaumont  and  his 
journeymen  and  followers  may  close  those  “  thirty  volumes  of 
scurrilous  eaves-dropping,”  and  quit  that  trade ;  for  at  length 
if  not  liberty  of  the  Press,  there  is  license.  Pamphlets  can  be 
surreptitiously  vended  and  read  in  Paris,  did  they  even  bear 
to  be  “Printed  at  Pekin.”  We  have  a  Courrier  de  V Europe  in 
those  years,  regularly  published  at  London  ;  by  a  De  Morande, 
whom  the  guillotine  has  not  yet  devoured.  There  too  an  unruly 
Linguet,  still  unguillotined,  when  his  own  country  has  become 
too  hot  for  him,  and  his  brother  Advocates  have  cast  him  out, 
can  emit  his  hoarse  wailings,  and  Bastille  Devoilee  (Bastille 
Unveiled).  Loquacious  Abbe  Raynal,  at  length,  has  his  wish; 
sees  the  Histoire  Philosophique,  with  its  “  lubricity,”  unveracity, 


56  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1781-83. 

loose  loud  eleutlieromaniac  rant  (contributed,  they  say,  by 
Philosopliedom  at  large,  though  in  the  Abbe’s  name,  and  to  his 
glory),  burnt  by  the  common  hangman ;  —  and  sets  out  on  his 
travels  as  a  martyr.  It  was  the  Edition  of  1781 ;  perhaps  the 
last  notable  Book  that  had  such  fire-beatitude,  —  the  hangman 
discovering  now  that  it  did  not  serve. 

Again,  in  Courts  of  Law,  with  their  money-quarrels,  divorce- 
cases,  wheresoever  a  glimpse  into  the  household  existence  can 
be  had,  what  indications  !  The  Parlements  of  Besai^on  and 
Aix  ring,  audible  to  all  France,  with  the  amours  and  destinies 
of  a  young  Mirabeau.  He,  under  the  nurture  of  a  “  Friend  of 
Men,”  has,  in  State  Prisons,  in  marching  Regiments,  Dutch 
Authors’-garrets,  and  quite  other  scenes,  “  been  for  twenty  years 
learning  to  resist  despotism :  ”  despotism  of  men,  and  alas  also 
of  gods.  How,  beneath  this  rose-colored  veil  of  Universal 
Benevolence  and  Astrcea  Redux ,  is  the  sanctuary  of  Home  so 
often  a  dreary  void,  or  a  dark  contentious  Hell-on-Earth !  The 
old  Friend  of  Men  has  his  own  divorce-case  too ;  and  at  times, 
“  his  whole  family  but  one  ”  under  lock  and  key :  he  writes 
much  about  reforming  and  enfranchising  the  world ;  and  for 
his  own  private  behoof  he  has  needed  sixty  Lettres-de-Cachet. 
A  man  of  insight  too ;  with  resolution,  even  with  manful  prin¬ 
ciple  :  but  in  such  an  element,  inward  and  outward ;  which  he 
could  not  rule,  but  only  madden.  Edacity,  rapacity;  —  quite 
contrary  to  the  finer  sensibilities  of  the  heart !  Fools,  that 
expect  your  verdant  Millennium,  and  nothing  but  Love  and 
Abundance,  brooks  running  wine,  winds  whispering  music, — 
with  the  whole  ground  and  basis  of  your  existence  champed 
into  a  mud  of  Sensuality ;  which,  daily  growing  deeper,  will 
soon  have  no  bottom  but  the  Abyss ! 

Or  consider  that  unutterable  business  of  the  Diamond  Neck¬ 
lace.  Red-hatted  Cardinal  Louis  de  Rohan ;  Sicilian  jail-bird 
Balsamo  Cagliostro  ;  milliner  Dame  de  Lamotte,  “  with  a  face 
of  some  piquancy :  ”  the  highest  Church  Dignitaries  waltzing, 
in  Walpurgis  Dance,  with  quack-prophets,  pickpurses  and 
public  women ;  —  a  whole  Satan’s  Invisible  World  displayed ; 
working  there  continually  under  the  daylight  visible  one ;  the 
smoke  of  its  torment  going  up  forever !  The  Throne  has  been 


Chap.  VIII.  PRINTED  PAPER.  57 

1784-86. 

brought  into  scandalous  collision  with  the  Treadmill.  Aston¬ 
ished  Europe  rings  with  the  mystery  for  nine  months ;  sees 
only  lie  unfold  itself  from  lie ;  corruption  among  the  lofty  and 
the  low,  gulosity,  credulity,  imbecility,  strength  nowhere  but 
in  the  hunger.  Weep,  fair  Queen,  thy  first  tears  of  unmixed 
wretchedness !  Thy  fair  name  has  been  tarnished  by  foul 
breath ;  irremediably  while  life  lasts.  No  more  shalt  thou 
be  loved  and  pitied  by  living  hearts,  till  a  new  generation 
has  been  born,  and  thy  own  heart  lies  cold,  cured  of  all  its 
sorrows.  —  The  Epigrams  henceforth  become,  not  sharp  and 
bitter ;  but  cruel,  atrocious,  unmentionable.  On  that  31st  of 
May,  1786,  a  miserable  Cardinal  Grand- Almoner  Rohan,  on 
issuing  from  his  Bastille,  is  escorted  by  hurrahing  crowds  : 
unloved  he,  and  worthy  of  no  love ;  but  important  since  the 
Court  and  Queen  are  his  enemies.1 

How  is  our  bright  Era  of  Hope  dimmed ;  and  the  whole  sky 
growing  bleak  with  signs  of  hurricane  and  earthquake  !  It  is 
a  doomed  world :  gone  all  “  obedience  that  made  men  free  ;  ” 
fast  going  the  obedience  that  made  men  slaves,  —  at  least  to 
one  another.  Slaves  only  of  their  own  lusts  they  now  are,  and 
will  be.  Slaves  of  sin ;  inevitably  also  of  sorrow.  Behold  the 
mouldering  mass  of  Sensuality  and  Falsehood;  round  which 
plays  foolishly,  itself  a  corrupt  phosphorescence,  some  glimmer 
of  Sentimentalism ;  —  and  over  all,  rising,  as  Ark  of  their 
Covenant,  the  grim  Patibulary  Fork  “  forty  feet  high  ;  ”  which 
also  is  now  nigh  rotted.  Add  only  that  the  French  Nation 
distinguishes  itself  among  Nations  by  the  characteristic  of 
Excitability ;  with  the  good,  but  also  with  the  perilous  evil, 
which  belongs  to  that.  Rebellion,  explosion,  of  unknown  ex¬ 
tent  is  to  be  calculated  on.  There  are,  as  Chesterfield  wrote, 
“  all  the  symptoms  I  have  ever  met  with  in  History !  ” 

Shall  we  say,  then :  Woe  to  Philosophism,  that  it  destroyed 
Religion,  what  it  called  “  extinguishing  the  abomination 
(ecraser  V infume)  ”  ?  Woe  rather  to  those  that  made  the  Holy 
an  abomination,  and  extinguishable ;  woe  to  all  men  that  live 

1  Fils  Adoptif :  Memnires  de  Mirabeau,  iv.  325.  —  See  Carlyle’s  Biographical 
Essays,  §  Diamond  Necklace,  §  Count  Cagliostro. 


58  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1784-88. 

in  such  a  time  of  world-abomination  and  world-destruction ! 
Kay,  answer  the  Courtiers,  it  was  Turgot,  it  was  Keeker,  with 
their  mad  innovating ;  it  was  the  Queen’s  want  of  etiquette ; 
it  was  he,  it  was  she,  it  was  that.  Friends !  it  was  every 
scoundrel  that  had  lived,  and  quack-like  pretended  to  be 
doing,  and  been  only  eating  and  m/sdoing,  in  all  provinces  of 
life,  as  Shoeblack  or  as  Sovereign  Lord,  each  in  his  degree, 
from  the  time  of  Charlemagne  and  earlier.  All  this  (for  be 
sure  no  falsehood  perishes,  but  is  as  seed  sown  out  to  grow) 
has  been  storing  itself  for  thousands  of  years ;  and  now  the 
account-day  has  come.  And  rude  will  the  settlement  be :  of 
wrath  laid  up  against  the  day  of  wrath.  0  my  Brother,  be 
not  thou  a  Quack !  Die  rather,  if  thou  wilt  take  counsel ; 
’t  is  but  dying  once,  and  thou  are  quit  of  it  forever.  Cursed 
is  that  trade ;  and  bears  curses,  thou  knowest  not  how,  long 
ages  after  thou  art  departed,  and  the  wages  thou  hadst  are  all 
consumed ;  nay,  as  the  ancient  wise  have  written,  —  through 
Eternity  itself,  and  is  verily  marked  in  the  Doom-Book  of  a 
God! 

Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick.  And  yet,  as  we  said, 
Hope  is  but  deferred ;  not  abolished,  not  abolishable.  It  is 
very  notable,  and  touching,  how  this  same  Hope  does  still 
light  onwards  the  French  Kation  through  all  its  wild  destinies. 
For  we  shall  still  find  Hope  shining,  be  it  for  fond  invitation, 
be  it  for  anger  and  menace ;  as  a  mild  heavenly  light  it  shone ; 
as  a  red  conflagration  it  shines :  burning  sulphurous-blue, 
through  darkest  regions  of  Terror,  it  still  shines;  and  goes 
not  out  at  all,  since  Desperation  itself  is  a  kind  of  Hope. 
Thus  is  our  Era  still  to  be  named  of  Hope,  though  in  the 
saddest  sense,  —  when  there  is  nothing  left  but  Hope. 

But  if  any  one  would  know  summarily  what  a  Pandora’s 
Box  lies  there  for  the  opening,  he  may  see  it  in  what  by  its 
nature  is  the  symptom  of  all  symptoms,  the  surviving  Litera¬ 
ture  of  the  Period.  Abbe  Raynal,  with  his  lubricity  and 
loud  loose  rant,  has  spoken  his  word;  and  already  the  fast- 
hastening  generation  responds  to  another.  Glance  at  Beau¬ 
marchais’  Mariage  de  Figaro ;  which  now  (in  1784),  after 


Chap.  VIII.  PRINTED  PAPER.  59 

1784-88. 

difficulty  enough,  has  issued  on  the  stage  ;  and  “  runs  its 
hundred  nights,”  to  the  admiration  of  all  men.  By  what 
virtue  or  internal  vigor  it  so  ran,  the  reader  of  our  day  will 
rather  wonder:  —  and  indeed. will  know  so  much  the  better 
that  it  flattered  some  pruriency  of  the  time ;  that  it  spoke 
what  all  were  feeling,  and  longing  to  speak.  Small  substance 
in  that  Figaro :  thin  wire-drawn  intrigues,  thin  wire-drawn 
sentiments  and  sarcasms ;  a  thing  lean,  barren ;  yet  which 
winds  and  whisks  itself,  as  through  a  wholly  mad  universe, 
adroitly,  with  a  high-sniffing  air :  wherein  each,  as  was  hinted, 
which  is  the  grand  secret,  may  see  some  image  of  himself, 
and  of  his  own  state  and  ways.  So  it  runs  its  hundred  nights, 
and  all  France  runs  with  it ;  laughing  applause.  If  the  solilo¬ 
quizing  Barber  ask:  “What  has  your  Lordship  done  to  earn 
all  this?”  and  can  only  answer:  “You  took  the  trouble  to 
be  born  ( Vous  vous  etes  donne  la  peine  de  naitre ),”  all  men 
must  laugh :  and  a  gay  horse-racing  Anglomaniac  Noblesse 
loudest  of  all.  For  how  can  small  books  have  a  great  danger 
in  them  ?  asks  the  Sieur  Caron ;  and  fancies  his  thin  epigram 
may  be  a  kind  of  reason.  Conqueror  of  a  golden  fleece,  by 
giant  smuggling;  tamer  of  hell-dogs,  in  the  Parlement  Mau- 
peou ;  and  finally  crowned  Orpheus  in  the  Theatre  Frangais, 
Beaumarchais  has  now  culminated,  and  unites  the  attributes 
of  several  demigods.  We  shall  meet  him  once  again,  in  the 
course  of  his  decline. 

Still  more  significant  are  two  Books  produced  on  the  eve 
of  the  ever-memorable  Explosion  itself,  and  read  eagerly  by 
all  the  world :  Saint-Pierre’s  Paul  et  Virginie,  and  Louvet’s 
Chevalier  de  Faublas.  Noteworthy  Books  ;  which  maybe  con¬ 
sidered  as  the  last  speech  of  old  Feudal  France.  In  the  first 
there  rises  melodiously,  as  it  were,  the  wail  of  a  moribund 
world:  everywhere  wholesome  Nature  in  unequal  conflict  with 
diseased  perfidious  Art ;  cannot  escape  from  it  in  the  lowest 
hut,  in  the  remotest  island  of  the  sea.  Ruin  and  death  must 
strike  down  the  loved  one ;  and,  what  is  most  significant  of 
all,  death  even  here  not  by  necessity  but  by  etiquette.  What 
a  world  of  prurient  corruption  lies  visible  in  that  super-sublime 
of  modesty  !  Yet,  on  the  whole,  our  good  Saint-Pierre  is 


60  THE  PAPER  AGE.  Book  II. 

1784-88. 

musical,  poetical  though  most  morbid :  we  will  call  his  Book 
the  swan-song  of  old  dying  France. 

Louvet’s,  again,  let  no  man  account  musical.  Truly,  if  this 
wretched  Faublas  is  a  death-speech,  it  is  one  under  the  gallows, 
and  by  a  felon  that  does  not  repent.  Wretched  cloaca  of  a 
Book;  without  depth  even  as  a  cloaca!  What  “ picture  of 
French  society is  here  ?  Picture  properly  of  nothing,  if  not 
of  the  mind  that  gave  it  out  as  some  sort  of  picture.  Yet 
symptom  of  much ;  above  all,  of  the  world  that  could  nourish 
itself  thereon. 


BOOK  III. 


THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  I. 

DISHONORED  BILLS. 

While  the  unspeakable  confusion  is  everywhere  weltering 
within,  and  through  so  many  cracks  in  the  surface  sulphur- 
smoke  is  issuing,  the  question  arises  :  Through  what  crevice 
will  the  main  Explosion  carry  itself  ?  Through  which  of  the 
old  craters  or  chimneys  ;  or  must  it,  at  once,  form  a  new  crater 
for  itself  ?  In  every  Society  are  such  chimneys,  are  Institu¬ 
tions  serving  as  such :  even  Constantinople  is  not  without  its 
safety-valves ;  there  too  Discontent  can  vent  itself,  —  in  ma¬ 
terial  fire  ;  by  the  number  of  nocturnal  conflagrations,  or  of 
hanged  bakers,  the  Reigning  Power  can  read  the  signs  of  the 
times,  and  change  course  according  to  these. 

We  may  say  that  this  French  Explosion  will  doubtless  first 
try  all  the  old  Institutions  of  escape  :  for  by  each  of  these 
there  is,  or  at  least  there  used  to  be,  some  communication  with 
the  interior  deep  ;  they  are  national  Institutions  in  virtue  of 
that.  Had  they  even  become  personal  Institutions,  and  what 
we  can  call  choked  up  from  their  original  uses,  there  neverthe¬ 
less  must  the  impediment  be  weaker  than  elsewhere.  Through 
which  of  them,  then  ?  An  observer  might  have  guessed : 
Through  the  Law  Parlements ;  above  all,  through  the  Parle- 
ment  of  Paris. 

Men,  though  never  so  thickly  clad  in  dignities,  sit  not  inac¬ 
cessible  to  the  influences  of  their  time ;  especially  men  whose 
life  is  business ;  who  at  all  turns,  were  it  even  from  behind 


62 


THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


Book  III. 
1781-83. 

judgment-seats,  have  come  in  contact  with  the  actual  work¬ 
ings  of  the  world.  The  Counsellor  of  Parlement,  the  Presi¬ 
dent  himself,  who  has  bought  his  place  with  hard  money  that 
he  might  be  looked  up  to  by  his  fellow-creatures,  how  shall 
he,  in  all  Philosophe-soirees,  and  saloons  of  elegant  culture, 
become  notable  as  a  Friend  of  Darkness  ?  Among  the  Paris 
Long-robes  there  may  be  more  than  one  patriotic  Malesherbes, 
whose  rule  is  conscience  and  the  public  good ;  there  are  clearly 
more  than  one  hot-headed  D’Espremenil,  to  whose  confused 
thought  any  loud  reputation  of  the  Brutus  sort  may  seem  glo¬ 
rious.  The  Lepelletiers,  Lamoignons  have  titles  and  wealth ; 
yet,  at  Court,  are  only  styled  “Noblesse  of  the  Robe.”  There 
are  Duports  of  deep  scheme  ;  Freteaus,  Sabatiers,  of  inconti¬ 
nent  tongue ;  all  nursed  more  or  less  on  the  milk  of  the  Con¬ 
tract  Social.  Nay,  for  the  whole  Body,  is  not  this  patriotic 
opposition  also  a  fighting  for  oneself  ?  Awake,  Parlement  of 
Paris,  renew  thy  long  warfare  !  Was  not  the  Parlement  Mau- 
peou  abolished  with  ignominy  ?  Not  now  hast  thou  to  dread 
a  Louis  XIV.,  with  the  crack  of  his  whip,  and  his  Olympian 
looks ;  not  now  a  Richelieu  and  Bastilles  :  no,  the  whole  Na¬ 
tion  is  behind  thee.  Thou  too  (0  heavens  !)  mayest  become  a 
Political  Power ;  and  with  the  shakings  of  thy  horsehair  wig 
shake  principalities  and  dynasties,  like  a  very  Jove  with  his 
ambrosial  curls ! 

Light  old  M.  de  Maurepas,  since  the  end  of  1781,  has  been 
fixed  in  the  frost  of  death :  “  Never  more,”  said  the  good 
Louis,  “  shall  I  hear  his  step  in  the  room  there  overhead ;  ” 
his  light  jestings  and  gyratings  are  at  an  end..  No  more  can 
the  importunate  reality  be  hidden  by  pleasant  wit,  and  to-day’s 
evil  be  deftly  rolled  over  upon  to-morrow.  The  morrow  itself 
has  arrived ;  and  now  nothing  but  a  solid  phlegmatic  M.  de 
Yergennes  sits  there,  in  dull  matter  of  fact,  like  some  dull 
punctual  Clerk  (which  he  originally  was)  ;  admits  what  cannot 
be  denied,  let  the  remedy  come  whence  it  will.  In  him  is  no 
remedy ;  only  clerklike  “  despatch  of  business  ”  according  to 
routine.  The  poor  King,  grown  older  yet  hardly  more  expe¬ 
rienced,  must  himself,  with  such  no-faculty  as  he  has,  begin 


Chap.  I.  DISHONORED  BILLS.  63 

1781-83. 

governing ;  wherein  also  his  Queen  will  give  help.  Bright 
Queen,  with  her  quick  clear  glances  and  impulses  ;  clear,  and 
even  noble ;  but  all  too  superficial,  vehement-shallow,  for  that 
work !  To  govern  France  were  such  a  problem ;  and  now  it 
has  grown  well-nigh  too  hard  to  govern  even  the  CEil-de-Boeuf. 
For  if  a  distressed  People  has  its  cry,  so  likewise,  and  more 
audibly,  has  a  bereaved  Court.  .To  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  it  remains 
inconceivable  how,  in  a  France  of  such  resources,  the  Horn  of 
Plenty  should  run  dry  :  did  it  not  use  to  flow  ?  Nevertheless 
Necker,  with  his  revenue  of  parsimony,  has  “  suppressed  above 
six  hundred  places,”  before  the  Courtiers  could  oust  him ;  par¬ 
simonious  finance-pedant  as  he  was.  Again,  a  military  pedant, 
Saint-Germain,  with  his  Prussian  manoeuvres ;  with  his  Prus¬ 
sian  notions,  as  if  merit  and  not  coat-of-arms  should  be  the 
rule  of  promotion,  has  disaffected  military  men ;  the  Mousque- 
taires,  with  much  else  are  suppressed :  for  he  too  was  one  of 
your  suppressors  ;  and  unsettling  and  oversetting,  did  mere 
mischief  —  to  the  CEil-de-Boeuf.  Complaints  abound ;  scarcity, 
anxiety  :  it  is  a  changed  CEil-de-Boeuf.  Besenval  says,  already 
in  these  years  (1781)  there  was  such  a  melancholy  (such  a  tris- 
tesse )  about  Court,  compared  with  former  days,  as  made  it 
quite  dispiriting  to  look  upon. 

No  wonder  that  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  feels  melancholy,  when 
you  are  suppressing  its  places !  Not  a  place  can  be  suppressed, 
but  some  purse  is  the  lighter  for  it ;  and  more  than  one  heart 
the  heavier ;  for  did  it  not  employ  the  working-classes  too,  — 
manufacturers,  male  and  female,  of  laces,  essences;  of  Pleas¬ 
ure  generally,  whosoever  could  manufacture  Pleasure  ?  Miser¬ 
able  economies  ;  never  felt  over  Twenty-five  Millions !  So, 
however,  it  goes  on  :  and  is  not  yet  ended.  Few  years  more 
and  the  Wolf-hounds  shall  fall  suppressed,  the  Bear-hounds, 
the  Falconry ;  places  shall  fall,  thick  as  autumnal  leaves. 
Duke  de  Polignac  demonstrates,  to  the  complete  silencing  of 
ministerial  logic,  that  his  place  cannot  be  abolished ;  then  gal¬ 
lantly,  turning  to  the  Queen,  surrenders  it,  since  her  Majesty 
so  wishes.  Less  chivalrous  was  Duke  de  Coigny,  and  yet  not 
luckier:  “We  got  into  a  real  quarrel,  Coigny  and  I,”  said 
King  Louis ;  “  but  if  he  had  even  struck  me,  I  could  not  have 


64  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS  Book  III. 

1781-83. 

blamed  him.”  1  In  regard  to  such  matters  there  can  be  but 
one  opinion.  Baron  Besenval,  with  that  frankness  of  speech 
which  stamps  the  independent  man,  plainly  assures  her  Majesty 
that  it  is  frightful  ( affreux )  ;  “  you  go  to  bed,  and  are  not  sure 
but  you  shall  rise  impoverished  on  the  morrow :  one  might  as 
well  be  in  Turkey.”  It  is  indeed  a  dog’s  life. 

How  singular  this  perpetual  distress  of  the  royal  treasury ! 
And  yet  it  is  a  thing  not  more  incredible  than  undeniable.  A 
thing  mournfully  true :  the  stumbling-block  on  which  all  Min¬ 
isters  successively  stumble,  and  fall.  Be  it  “want  of  fiscal 
genius,”  or  some  far  other  want,  there  is  the  palpablest  dis¬ 
crepancy  between  Revenue  and  Expenditure ;  a  Deficit  of  the 
Revenue  :  you  must  “  choke  ( combler )  the  Deficit,”  or  else  it 
will  swallow  you  !  This  is  the  stern  problem  ;  hopeless  seem¬ 
ingly  as  squaring  of  the  circle.  Controller  Joly  de  Fleury, 
who  succeeded  Necker,  could  do  nothing  with  it;  nothing  but 
propose  loans,  which  were  tardily  filled  up ;  impose  new  taxes, 
unproductive  of  money,  productive  of  clamor  and  discontent. 
As  little  could  Controller  d’Ormesson  do,  or  even  less ;  for  if 
Joly  maintained  himself  beyond  year  and  day,  D’Ormesson 
reckons  only  by  months:  till  “the  King  purchased  Ram- 
bouillet  without  consulting  him,”  which  he  took  as  a  hint  to 
withdraw.  And  so,  towards  the  end  of  1783,  matters  threaten 
to  come  to  a  still-stand.  Vain  seems  human  ingenuity.  In 
vain  has  our  newly  devised  “  Council  of  Finances  ”  struggled, 
our  Intendants  of  Finance,  Controller-General  of  Finances  : 
there  are  unhappily  no  Finances  to  control.  Fatal  paralysis 
invades  the  social  movement ;  clouds,  of  blindness  or  of  black¬ 
ness,  envelop  us :  are  we  breaking  down,  then,  into  the  black 
horrors  of  National  Bankruptcy  ? 

Great  is  Bankruptcy :  the  great  bottomless  gulf  into  which 
all  Falsehoods,  public  and  private,  do  sink,  disappearing ; 
whither,  from  the  first  origin  of  them,  they  were  all  doomed. 
For  Nature  is  true  and  not  a  lie.  No  lie  you  can  speak  or 
act  but  it  will  come,  after  longer  or  shorter  circulation,  like 
a  Bill  drawn  on  Nature’s  Reality,  and  be  presented  there  for 
payment, — with  the  answer,  No  effects.  Pity  only  that  it 

1  Besenval,  iii.  255-258. 


65 


Chap.  I.  DISHONORED  BILLS. 

1783. 

often  had  so  long  a  circulation :  that  the  original  forger  were 
so  seldom  he  who  bore  the  final  smart  of  it !  Lies,  and  the 
burden  of  evil  they  bring,  are  passed  on ;  shifted  from  back 
to  back,  and  from  rank  to  rank ;  and  so  land  ultimately  on 
the  dumb  lowest  rank,  who  with  spade  and  mattock,  with 
sore  heart  and  empty  wallet,  daily  come  in  contact  with 
reality,  and  .can  pass  the  cheat  no  further. 

Observe  nevertheless  how,  by  a  just  compensating  law,  if 
the  lie  with  its  burden  (in  this  confused  whirlpool  of  Society) 
sinks  and  is  shifted  ever  downwards,  then  in  return  the  dis¬ 
tress  of  it  rises  ever  upwards  and  upwards.  Whereby,  after 
the  long  pining  and  demi-starvation  of  those  Twenty  Millions, 
a  Duke  de  Coigny  and  his  Majesty  come  also  to  have  their 
“ real  quarrel/*’  Such  is  the  law  of  just  Nature;  bringing, 
though  at  long  intervals,  and  were  it  only  by  Bankruptcy, 
matters  round  again  to  the  mark. 

But  with  a  Fortunatus’  Purse  in  his  pocket,  through  what 
length  of  time  might  not  almost  any  Falsehood  last !  Your 
Society,  your  Household,  practical  or  spiritual  Arrangement, 
is  untrue,  unjust,  offensive  to  the  eye  of  God  and  man. 
Nevertheless  its  hearth  is  warm,  its  larder  well  replenished : 
the  innumerable  Swiss  of  Heaven,  with  a  kind  of  natural 
loyalty/  gather  round  it ;  will  prove,  by  pamphleteering, 
musketeering,  that  it  is  a  Truth ;  or  if  not  an  unmixed 
(unearthly,  impossible)  Truth,  then  better,  a  wholesomely 
attempered  one  (as  wind  is  to  the  shorn  lamb),  and  works 
well.  Changed  outlook,  however,  when  purse  and  larder  grow 
empty !  Was  your  Arrangement  so  true,  so  accordant  to 
Nature’s  ways,  then  how,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  has  Nature, 
with  her  infinite  bounty,  come  to  leave  it  famishing  there  ? 
To  all  men,  to  all  women  and  all  children,  it  is  now  indubi¬ 
table  that  your  Arrangement  was  false.  Honor  to  Bank¬ 
ruptcy  ;  ever  righteous  on  the  great  scale,  though  in  detail 
it  is  so  cruel !  Under  all  Falsehoods  it  works,  unwearied ly 
mining.  No  Falsehood,  did  it  rise  heaven-high  and  cover 
the  world,  but  Bankruptcy,  one  day,  will  sweep  it  down,  and 
make  us  free  of  it. 


VOL.  III. 


5 


66 


THE  PAELEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


Book  III. 
1783. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CONTROLLER  CALONNE. 

Under  such  circumstances  of  tristesse,  obstruction  and  sick 
languor,  when  to  an  exasperated  Court  it  seems  as  if  fiscal 
genius  had  departed  from  among  men,  what  apparition  could 
be  welcomer  than  that  of  M.  de  Calonne  ?  Calonne,  a  man  of 
indisputable  genius  ;  even  fiscal  genius,  more  or  less ;  of  expe¬ 
rience  both  in  managing  Finance  and  Parlements,  for  he  has 
been  Intendant  at  Metz,  at  Lille ;  King’s  Procureur  at  Douai. 
A  man  of  weight,  connected  with  the  moneyed  classes;  of 
unstained  name,  —  if  it  were  not  some  peccadillo  (of  showing 
a  Client’s  Letter)  in  that  old  D’Aiguillon-Lachalotais  busi¬ 
ness,  as  good  as  forgotten  now.  He  has  kinsmen  of  heavy 
purse,  felt  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  Our  Foulons,  Berthiers 
intrigue  for  him :  —  old  Foulon,  who  has  now  nothing  to  do 
but  intrigue ;  who  is  known  and  even  seen  to  be  what  they 
call  a  scoundrel ;  but  of  unmeasured  wealth ;  who,  from  Com¬ 
missariat-clerk  which  he  once  was,  may  hope,  some  think, 
if  the  game  go  right,  to  be  Minister  himself  one  day. 

Such  propping  and  backing  has  M.  de  Calonne ;  and  then 
intrinsically  such  qualities !  Hope  radiates  from  his  face ; 
persuasion  hangs  on  his  tongue.  For  all  straits  he  has  pres¬ 
ent  remedy,  and  will  make  the  world  roll  on  wheels  before 
him.  On  the  3d  of  November,  1783,  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  rejoices 
in  its  new  Controller-General.  Calonne  also  shall  have  trial ; 
Calonne  also,  in  his  way,  as  Turgot  and  Necker  had  done  in 
theirs,  shall  forward  the  consummation ;  suffuse,  with  one 
other  flush  of  brilliancy,  our  now  too  leaden-colored  Era  of 
Hope,  and  wind  it  up  —  into  fulfilment. 

Great,  in  any  case,  is  the  felicity  of  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf. 
Stinginess  has  fled  from  these  royal  abodes ;  suppression 


Chai\  II. 
1783-86. 


CONTROLLER  CALONNE. 


67 


ceases ;  your  Besenval  may  go  peaceably  to  sleep,  sure  that 
he  shall  awake  unplundered.  Smiling  Plenty,  as  if  conjured 
by  some  enchanter,  has  returned;  scatters  contentment  from 
her  new-flowing  horn.  And  mark  what  suavity  of  manners ! 
A  bland  smile  distinguishes  our  Controller:  to  all  men  he 
listens  with  an  air  of  interest,  nay  of  anticipation;  makes 
their  own  wish  clear  to  themselves,  and  grants  it ;  or  at  least, 
grants  conditional  promise  of  it.  “I  fear  this  is  a  matter 
of  difficulty,”  said  her  Majesty.  —  “  Madame,”  answered  the 
Controller,  “  if  it  is  but  difficult,  it  is  done ;  if  it  is  impos¬ 
sible,  it  shall  be  done  ( sefera ).”  A  man  of  such  “facility” 
withal.  To  observe  him  in  the  pleasure-vortex  of  society, 
which  none  partakes  of  with  more  gusto,  you  might  ask, 
When  does  he  work  ?  And  yet  his  work,  as  we  see,  is  never 
behindhand ;  above  all,  the  fruit  of  his  work :  ready  money. 
Truly  a  man  of  incredible  facility;  facile  action,  facile  elocu¬ 
tion,  facile  thought:  how,  in  mild  suasion,  philosophic  depth 
sparkles  up  from  him,  as  mere  wit  and  lambent  sprightliness ; 
and  in  her  Majesty’s  Soirees,  with  the  weight  of  a  world 
lying  on  him,  he  is  the  delight  of  men  and  women !  By  what 
magic  does  he  accomplish  miracles  ?  By  the  only  true  magic, 
that  of  genius.  Men  name  him  “  the  Minister ;  ”  as  indeed, 
when  was  there  another  such  ?  Crooked  things  are  become 
straight  by  him,  rough  places  plain ;  and  over  the  CEil-de- 
Boeuf  there  rests  an  unspeakable  sunshine. 

Nay,  in  seriousness,  let  no  man  say  that  Calonne  had  not 
genius  :  genius  for  Persuading ;  before  all  things,  for  Borrow¬ 
ing.  With  the  skilfulest  judicious  appliances  of  underhand 
money,  he  keeps  the  Stock  Exchanges  flourishing;  so  that 
Loan  after  Loan  is  filled  up  as  soon  as  opened.  “  Calculators 
likely  to  know  ” 1  have  calculated  that  he  spent,  in  extraordi¬ 
naries,  “at  the  rate  of  one  million  daily;”  which  indeed  is 
some  fifty  thousand  pounds  sterling :  but  did  he  not  procure 
something  with  it ;  namely  peace  and  prosperity,  for  the 
time  being  ?  Philosophedom  grumbles  and  croaks ;  buys,  as 
we  said,  80,000  copies  of  Necker’s  new  Book:  but  Nonpareil 
Calonne,  in  her  Majesty’s  Apartment,  with  the  glittering 

1  Besenval,  iii.  216. 


68  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1783-86. 

retinue  of  Dukes,  Duchesses,  and  mere  happy  admiring  faces, 
can  let  Necker  and  Philosophedom  croak. 

The  misery  is,  such  a  time  cannot  last!  Squandering, 
and  Payment  by  Loan  is  no  way  to  choke  a  Deficit.  Neither 
is  oil  the  substance  for  quenching  conflagrations ;  —  alas  no, 
only  for  assuaging  them,  not  permanently  !  To  the  Nonpareil 
himself,  who  wanted  not  insight,  it  is  clear  at  intervals, 
and  dimly  certain  at  all  times,  that  his  trade  is  by  nature 
temporary,  growing  daily  more  difficult;  that  changes  incal¬ 
culable  lie  at  no  great  distance.  Apart  from  financial  Deficit, 
the  world  is  wholly  in  such  a  new-fangled  humor ;  all  things 
working  loose  from  their  old  fastenings,  towards  new  issues 
and  combinations.  There  is  not  a  dwarf  jokei,  a  cropt  Brutus’- 
head,  or  Anglomaniac  horseman  rising  on  his  stirrups,  that 
does  not  betoken  change.  But  what  then  ?  The  day,  in  any 
case,  passes  pleasantly ;  for  the  morrow,  if  the  morrow  come, 
there  shall  be  counsel  too.  Once  mounted  (by  munificence, 
suasion,  magic  of  genius)  high  enough  in  favor  with  the 
CEil-de-Boeuf,  with  the  King,  Queen,  Stock-Exchange,  and  so 
far  as  possible  with  all  men,  a  Nonpareil  Controller  may  hope 
to  go  careering  through  the  Inevitable,  in  some  unimagined 
way,  as  handsomely  as  another. 

At  all  events,  for  these  three  miraculous  years,  it  has  been 
expedient  heaped  on  expedient:  till  now,  with  such  cumula¬ 
tion  and  height,  the  pile  topples  perilous.  And  here  has  this 
world’s-wonder  of  a  Diamond  Necklace  brought  it  at  last 
to  the  clear  verge  of  tumbling.  Genius  in  that  direction  can 
no  more :  mounted  high  enough,  or  not  mounted,  we  must  fare 
forth.  Hardly  is  poor  Rohan,  the  Necklace-Cardinal,  safely 
bestowed  in  the  Auvergne  Mountains,  Dame  de  la  Motte 
(unsafely)  in  the  Salpetriere,  and  that  mournful  business 
hushed  up,  when  our  sanguine  Controller  once  more  astonishes 
the  world.  An  expedient,  unheard  of  for  these  hundred  and 
sixty  years,  has  been  propounded ;  and,  by  dint  of  suasion 
(for  his  light  audacity,  his  hope  and  eloquence  are  matchless) 
has  been  got  adopted,  —  Convocation  of  the  Notables. 

Let  notable  persons,  the  actual  or  virtual  rulers  of  their 


THE  NOTABLES. 


69 


Chap.  III. 
1787. 


districts,  be  summoned  from  all  sides  of  Trance :  let  a  true 
tale,  of  bis  Majesty’s  patriotic  purposes  and  wretclied  pecu¬ 
niary  impossibilities,  be  suasively  told  them  ;  and  tlien  the 
question  put :  What  are  we  to  do  ?  Surely  to  adopt  healing 
measures  ;  such  as  the  magic  of  genius  will  unfold  ;  such  as, 
once  sanctioned  by  Notables,  all  Parlements  and  all  men  must, 
with  more  or  less  reluctance,  submit  to. 


- ♦ - - 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  NOTABLES. 

Here,  then,  is  verily  a  sign  and  wonder ;  visible  to  the 
whole  world  ;  bodeful  of  much.  The  GEil-de-Boeuf  dolorously 
grumbles  ;  were  we  not  well  as  we  stood,  —  quenching  confla¬ 
grations  by  oil  ?  Constitutional  Philosophedom  starts  with 
joyful  surprise ;  stares  eagerly  what  the  result  will  be.  The 
public  creditor,  the  public  debtor,  the  whole  thinking  and 
thoughtless  public  have  their  several  surprises,  joyful  or  sor¬ 
rowful.  Count  Mirabeau,  who  has  got  his  matrimonial  and 
other  Lawsuits  huddled  up,  better  or  worse ;  and  works  now 
in  the  dimmest  element  at  Berlin ;  compiling  Prussian  Mon¬ 
archies ,  Pamphlets  On  Cagliostro  ;  writing,  with  pay,  but  not 
with  honorable  recognition,  innumerable  Despatches  for  his 
Government,  —  scents  or  descries  richer  quarry  from  afar. 
He,  like  an  eagle  or  vulture,  or  mixture  of  both,  preens  his 
wings  for  flight  homewards.1 

M.  de  Calonne  has  stretched  out  an  Aaron’s  Rod  over 
Prance ;  miraculous ;  and  is  summoning  quite  unexpected 
things.  Audacity  and  hope  alternate  in  him  with  misgivings  ; 
though  the  sanguine-valiant  side  carries  it.  Anon  he  writes 
to  an  intimate  friend,  u  Je  me  fais  pitie  a  moi-meme  (I  am  an 
object  of  pity  to  myself) ;  ”  anon,  invites  some  dedicating 
Poet  or  Poetaster  to  sing  u  this  Assembly  of  the  Notables, 

1  Fils  Adoptif :  Memoires  de  Mirabeau,  t.  iv.  livv.  4  et  5. 


TO  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

and  the  Revolution  that  is  preparing.”  1  Preparing  indeed ; 
and  a  matter  to  be  sung,  —  only  not  till  we  have  seen  it,  and 
what  the  issue  of  it  is.  In  deep  obscure  unrest,  all  things 
have  so  long  gone  rocking  and  swaying :  will  M.  de  Calonne, 
with  this  his  alchemy  of  the  Notables,  fasten  all  together 
again,  and  get  new  revenues  ?  Or  wrench  all  asunder ;  so 
that  it  go  no  longer  rocking  and  swaying,  but  clashing  and 
colliding  ? 

Be  this  as  it  may,  in  the  bleak  short  days,  we  behold  men 
of  weight  and  influence  threading  the  great  vortex  of  French 
Locomotion,  each  on  his  several  line,  from  all  sides  of  France, 
towards  the  Chateau  of  Versailles:  summoned  thither  de  par 
le  roi.  There,  on  the  22d  day  of  February,  1787,  they  have 
met,  and  got  installed  :  Notables  to  the  number  of  a  Hundred 
and  Thirty-seven,  as  we  count  them  name  by  name : 2  add 
Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood,  it  makes  the  round  Gross  of  No¬ 
tables.  Men  of  the  sword,  men  of  the  robe ;  Peers,  dignified 
Clergy,  Parlementary  Presidents :  divided  into  Seven  Boards 
( Bureaux )  ;  under  our  Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood,  Monsieur 
D’ Artois,  Penthievre,  and  the  rest ;  among  whom  let  not  our 
new  Duke  d’ Orleans  (for,  since  1785,  he  is  Chartres  no  longer) 
be  forgotten.  Never  yet  made  Admiral,  and  now  turning  the 
corner  of  his  fortieth  year,  with  spoiled  blood  and  prospects ; 
half  weary  of  a  world  which  is  more  than  half  weary  of  him, 
Monseigneur’s  future  is  most  questionable.  Not  in  illumina¬ 
tion  and  insight,  not  even  in  conflagration ;  but,  as  was  said, 
“  in  dull  smoke  and  ashes  of  outburnt  sensualities,”  does  he 
live  and  digest.  Sumptuosity  and  sordidness  ;  revenge,  life¬ 
weariness,  ambition,  darkness,  putrescence ;  and,  say,  in  ster¬ 
ling  money,  three  hundred' thousand  a  year, — were  this  poor 
Prince  once  to  burst  loose  from  his  Court-moorings,  to  what 
regions,  with  what  phenomena,  might  he  not  sail  and  drift ! 
Happily  as  yet  he  “ affects  to  hunt  daily;  ”  sits  there,  since 
he  must  sit,  presiding  that  Bureau  of  his,  with  dull  moon- 
visage,  dull  glassy  eyes,  as  if  it  were  a  mere  tedium  to  him. 

We  observe  finally,  that  Count  Mirabeau  has  actually  ar- 

1  Biographic  Universelle,  §  Calonne  (by  Guizot). 

2  Lacretelle,  in.  286.  Montgaillard,  i.  347. 


THE  NOTABLES. 


71 


Chap.  III. 
Feb. 


rived.  He  descends  from  Berlin,  on  the  scene  of  action ; 
glares  into  it  with  flashing  sun-glance;  discerns  that  it  will 
do  nothing  for  him.  He  had  hoped  these  Notables  might 
need  a  Secretary.  They  do  need  one  ;  but  have  fixed  on 
Dupont  de  Nemours;  a  man  of  smaller  fame,  but  then  of 
better ;  —  who  indeed,  as  his  friends  often  hear,  labors  under 
this  complaint,  surely  not  a  universal  one,  of  having  “five 
kings  to  correspond  with.”  1  The  pen  of  a  Mirabeau  cannot 
become  an  official  one ;  nevertheless  it  remains  a  pen.  In 
defect  of  Secretaryship,  he  sets  to  denouncing  Stock-brokerage 
( Denonciation  de  V Agiotage)  ;  testifying,  as  his  wont  is,  by 
loud  bruit,  that  he  is  present  and  busy ;  —  till,  warned  by 
friend  Talleyrand,  and  even  by  Calonne  himself  underhand, 
that  “a  seventeenth  Lettre-de- Cachet  may  be  launched  against 
him,”  he  timefully  flits  over  the  marches. 

And  now,  in  stately  royal  apartments,  as  Pictures  of  that 
time  still  represent  them,  our  hundred  and  forty-four  Notables 
sit  organized ;  ready  to  hear  and  consider.  Controller  Calonne 
is  dreadfully  behindhand  with  his  speeches,  his  preparatives ; 
however,  the  man's  “  facility  of  work  ”  is  known  to  us.  For 
freshness  of  style,  lucidity,  ingenuity,  largeness  of  view,  that 
opening  Harangue  of  his  was  unsurpassable :  —  had  not  the 
subject-matter  been  so  appalling.  A  Deficit,  concerning  which 
accounts  vary,  and  the  Controller’s  own  account  is  not  un¬ 
questioned;  but  which  all  accounts  agree  in  representing  as 
“  enormous.”  This  is  the  epitome  of  our  Controller’s  difficul¬ 
ties  :  and  then  his  means  ?  Mere  Turgotism ;  for  thither,  it 
seems,  we  must  come  at  last :  Provincial  Assemblies ;  new 
Taxation  ;  nay,  strangest  of  all,  new  Land-tax,  what  he  calls 
Subvention  Territorial,  from  which  neither  Privileged  nor 
Unprivileged,  Noblemen,  Clergy,  nor  Parlementeers,  shall  be 
exempt ! 

Foolish  enough  !  These  Privileged  Classes  have  been  used 
to  tax ;  levying  toll,  tribute  and  custom,  at  all  hands,  while  a 
"  penny  was  left :  but  to  be  themselves  taxed  ?  Of  such  Privi¬ 
leged  persons,  meanwhile,  do  these  Notables,  all  but  the  mer¬ 
est  fraction,  consist.  Headlong  Calonne  had  given  no  heed 
1  Dumont:  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau  (Paris,  1832),  p.  20. 


72  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

to  the  “  composition/’  or  judicious  packing  of  them ;  but  chosen 
such  Notables  as  were  really  notable  ;  trusting  for  the  issue 
to  off-hand  ingenuity,  good  fortune  and  eloquence  that  never 
yet  failed.  Headlong  Controller-General !  Eloquence  can  do 
much,  but  not  all.  Orpheus,  with  eloquence  grown  rhythmic, 
musical  (what  we  call  Poetry),  drew  iron  tears  from  the  cheek 
of  Pluto  :  but  by  what  witchery  of  rhyme  or  prose  wilt  thou 
from  the  pocket  of  Plutus  draw  gold  ? 

Accordingly,  the  storm  that  now  rose  and  began  to  whistle 
round  Calonne,  first  in  these  Seven  Bureaus,  and  then  on  the 
outside  of  them,  awakened  by  them,  spreading  wider  and 
wider  over  all  France,  threatens  to  become  unappeasable.  A 
Deficit  so  enormous !  Mismanagement,  profusion  is  too  clear. 
Peculation  itself  is  hinted  at ;  nay,  Lafayette  and  others  go 
so  far  as  to  speak  it  out,  with  attempts  at  proof.  The  blame 
of  his  Deficit  our  brave  Calonne,  as  was  natural,  had  endeav¬ 
ored  to  shift  from  himself  on  his  predecessors  ;  not  excepting 
even  Necker.  But  now  Necker  vehemently  denies;  where¬ 
upon  an  “  angry  Correspondence,”  which  also  finds  its  way 
into  print. 

In  the  QSil-de-Boeuf,  and  her  Majesty’s  private  Apartments, 
an  eloquent  Controller,  with  his  “  Madame,  if  it  is  but  diffi¬ 
cult,”  had  been  persuasive :  but,  alas,  the  cause  is  now  carried 
elsewhither.  Behold  him,  one  of  these  sad  days,  in  Monsieur’s 
Bureau;  to  which  all  the  other  Bureaus  have  sent  deputies. 
He  is  standing  at  bay  :  alone  ;  exposed  to  an  incessant  fire  of 
questions,  interpellations,  objurgations,  from  those  “  hundred 
and  thirty-seven  ”  pieces  of  logic-ordnance,  —  what  we  may 
well  call  bouches  a  feu,  fire-mouths  literally  !  Never,  according 
to  Besenval,  or  hardly  ever,  had  such  display  of  intellect, 
dexterity,  coolness,  suasive  eloquence,  been  made  by  man.  To 
the  raging  play  of  so  many  fire-mouths  he  opposes  nothing 
angrier  than  light-beams,  self-possession  and  fatherly  smiles. 
With  the  imperturbablest  bland  clearness,  he,  for  five  hours 
long,  keeps  answering  the  incessant  volley  of  fiery  captious 
questions,  reproachful  interpellations ;  in  words  prompt  as 
lightning,  quiet  as  light.  Nay,  the  cross-fire  too :  such  side- 
questions  and  incidental  interpellations  as,  in  the  heat  of  the 


Chap.  III.  THE  NOTABLES.  73 

March- April. 

main  battle,  he  (having  only  one  tongue)  could  not  get  an¬ 
swered  ;  these  also  he  takes  up,  at  the  first  slake ;  answers 
even  these.1  Could  blandest  suasive  eloquence  have  saved 
France,  she  were  saved. 

Heavy-laden  Controller  !  In  the  Seven  Bureaus  seems 
nothing  but  hindrance  :  in  Monsieur’s  Bureau,  a  Lomenie  de 
Brienne,  Archbishop  of  Toulouse,  with  an  eye  himself  to  the 
Controllership,  stirs  up  the  Clergy ;  there  are  meetings,  under¬ 
ground  intrigues.  Neither  from  without  anywhere  comes 
sign  of  help  or  hope.  For  the  Nation  (where  Mirabeau  is 
now,  with  stentor-lungs,  “  denouncing  Agio  ”)  the  Controller 
has  hitherto  done  nothing,  or  less.  For  Philosophedom  he  has 
done  as  good  as  nothing,  —  sent  out  some  scientific  Laperouse, 
or  the  like  :  and  is  he  not  in  “  angry  correspondence  ”  with 
its  Necker  ?  The  very  CEil-de-Boeuf  looks  questionable;  a 
falling  Controller  has  no  friends.  Solid  M.  de  Vergennes, 
who  with  his  phlegmatic  judicious  punctuality  might  have 
kept  down  many  things,  died  the  very  week  before  these 
sorrowful  Notables  met.  And  now  a  Seal-keeper,  Garde-des- 
Sceaux  Miromenil  is  thought  to  be  playing  the  traitor  :  spinning 
plots  for  Lomenie-Brienne !  Queen’s-Reader  Abbe  de  Vermond, 
unloved  individual,  was  Brienne’s  creature,  the  work  of  his 
hands  from  the  first :  it  may  be  feared  the  backstairs  passage 
is  open,  the  ground  getting  mined  under  our  feet.  Treacher¬ 
ous  Garde-des-Sceaux  Miromenil,  at  least,  should  be  dismissed  ; 
Lamoignon,  the  eloquent  Notable,  a  stanch  man,  with  connec¬ 
tions,  and  even  ideas,  Parlement-President  yet  intent  on  re¬ 
forming  Parlements,  were  not  he  the  right  Keeper  ?  So,  for 
one,  thinks  busy  Besenval ;  and,  at  dinner-table,  rounds  the 
same  into  the  Controller’s  ear,  —  who  always,  in  the  intervals 
of  landlord-duties,  listens  to  him  as  with  charmed  look,  but 
answers  nothing  positive.2 

Alas,  what  to  answer  ?  The  force  of  private  intrigue,  and 
then  also  the  force  of  public  opinion,  grows  so  dangerous,  con¬ 
fused  !  Philosophedom  sneers  aloud,  as  if  its  Necker  already 
triumphed.  The  gaping  populace  gapes  over  Wood-cuts  or 
Copper-cuts  ;  where,  for  example,  a  Rustic  is  represented  con- 
1  Besenval,  iii.  196.  2  lb.  iii.  203. 


74  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

yoking  the  Poultry  of  his  barnyard,  with  this  opening  ad¬ 
dress  :  “Dear  animals,  I  have  assembled  you  to  advise  me  what 
sauce  I  shall  dress  you  with ;  ”  to  which  a  Cock  responding, 
“We  don’t  want  to  be  eaten,”  is  checked  by  “You  wander 
from  the  point  (  Vous  votes  ecartez  de  la  question).”  1  Laughter 
and  logic ;  ballad-singer,  pamphleteer ;  epigram  and  carica¬ 
ture  :  what  wind  of  public  opinion  is  this,  —  as  if  the  Cave 
of  the  Winds  were  bursting  loose!  At  nightfall,  President 
Lamoignon  steals  over  to  the  Controller’s ;  finds  him  “  walk¬ 
ing  with  large  strides  in  his  chamber,  like  one  out  of  him¬ 
self.”  2  With  rapid  confused  speech  the  Controller  begs  M.  de 
Lamoignon  to  give  him  “an  advice.”  Lamoignon  candidly 
answers  that,  except  in  regard  to  his  own  anticipated  Keeper- 
ship,  unless  that  would  prove  remedial,  he  really  cannot  take 
upon  him  to  advise. 

“  On  the  Monday  after  Easter,”  the  9th  of  April,  1787,  a  date 
one  rejoices  to  verify,  for  nothing  can  excel  the  indolent  false¬ 
hood  of  these  Histoires  Memoires,  —  “  On  the  Monday  after 
Easter,  as  I,  Besenval,  was  riding  towards  Romainville  to  the 
Marechal  de  Segur’s,  I  met  a  friend  on  the  Boulevards,  who 
told  me  that  M.  de  Calonne  was  out.  A  little  further  on  came 
M.  the  Duke  d’Orleans,  dashing  towards  me,  head  to  the  wind 
[trotting  a  V Anglais e],  and  confirmed  the  news.”  3  It  is  true 
news.  Treacherous  Garde-des-Sceaux  Miromenil  is  gone,  and 
Lamoignon  is  appointed  in  his  room  :  but  appointed  for  his 
own  profit  only,  not  for  the  Controller’s  :  “  next  day  ”  the  Con¬ 
troller  also  has  had  to  move.  A  little  longer  he  may  linger 
near  be  seen  among  the  money-changers,  and  even  “  working 
in  the  Controller’s  ofiice,”  where  much  lies  unfinished :  but 
neither  will  that  hold.  Too  strong  blows  and  beats  this  tem¬ 
pest  of  public  opinion,  of  private  intrigue,  as  from  the  Cave  of 
all  the  Winds  ;  and  blows  him  (higher  Authority  giving  sign) 
out  of  Paris  and  France,  —  over  the  horizon,  into  Invisibility, 
or  outer  Darkness. 

Such  destiny  the  magic  of  genius  could  not  forever  avert. 
Ungrateful  Gtlil-de-Boeuf  !  did  he  not  miraculously  rain  gold 

1  Republished  in  the  Mus€e  de  la  Caricature  (Paris,  1834). 

2  Besenval,  iii.  209.  3  lb.  iii.  211. 


Chap.  III.  THE  NOTABLES.  75 

April-May. 

manna  on  you  ;  so  that,  as  a  Courtier  said,  “  All  the  world  held 
out  its  hand,  and  I  held  out  my  hat,”. —  for  a  time  ?  Himself 
is  poor ;  penniless,  had  not  a  “  Financier’s  widow  in  Lorraine  ” 
offered  him,  though  he  was  turned  of  fifty,  her  hand  and  the 
rich  purse  it  held.  Dim  henceforth  shall  be  his  activity, 
though  unwearied  :  Letters  to  the  King,  Appeals,  Prognostica¬ 
tions  ;  Pamphlets  (from  London),  written  with  the  old  suasive 
facility  ;  which  however  do  not  persuade.  Luckily  his  widow’s 
purse  fails  not.  Once,  in  a  year  or  two,  some  shadow  of  him 
shall  be  seen  hovering  on  the  Northern  Border,  seeking  elec¬ 
tion  as  National  Deputy;  but  be  sternly  beckoned  away. 
Dimmer  then,  far-borne  over  utmost  European  lands,  in  uncer¬ 
tain  twilight  of  diplomacy,  he  shall  hover,  intriguing  for 
u  Exiled  Princes,”  and  have  adventures  ;  be  overset  into  the 
Rhine-stream  and  half-drowned,  nevertheless  save  his  papers 
dry.  Unwearied,  but  in  vain!  In  France  he  works  miracles 
no  more ;  shall  hardly  return  thither  to  find  a  grave.  Fare¬ 
well,  thou  facile  sanguine  Controller-General,  with  thy  light 
rash  hand,  thy  suasive  mouth  of  gold :  worse  men  there  have 
been,  and  better ;  but  to  thee  also  was  allotted  a  task,  —  of 
raising  the  wind,  and  the  winds ;  and  thou  hast  done  it. 

But  now,  while  Ex-Controller  Calonne  flies  storm-driven 
over  the  horizon,  in  this  singular  way,  what  has  become  of  the 
Control]  ership  ?  It  hangs  vacant,  one  may  say ;  extinct,  like 
the  Moon  in  her  vacant  interlunar  cave.  Two  preliminary 
shadows,  poor  M.  Fourqueux,  poor  M.  Villedeuil,  do  hold,  in 
quick  succession,  some  simulacrum  of  it,1  —  as  the  new  Moon 
will  sometimes  shine  out  with  a  dim  preliminary  old  one  in  her 
arms.  Be  patient,  ye  Notables  !  An  actual  new  Controller  is 
certain,  and  even  ready ;  were  the  indispensable  manoeuvres  but 
gone  through.  Long-headed  Lamoignon,  with  Home-Secretary 
Breteuil,  and  Foreign  Secretary  Montmorin  have  exchanged 
looks  ;  let  these  three  once  meet  and  speak.  Who  is  it  that 
is  strong  in  the  Queen’s  favor,  and  the  Abbe  de  Vermond’s  ? 
That  is  a  man  of  great  capacity  ?  Or  at  least  that  has  strug¬ 
gled,  these  fifty  years,  to  have  it  thought  great ;  now,  in  the 

1  Besenval,  iii.  225. 


76 


THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


_ _  _ _  _ _  Book  III. 

1787. 

Clergy’s  name,  demanding  to  have  Protestant  death-penalties 
“  put  in  execution ;  ”  now  flaunting  it  in  the  CEil-de-Boeuf, 
as  the  gayest  man-pleaser  and  woman-pleaser ;  gleaning  even 
a  good  word  from  Philosophedom  and  your  Yoltaires  and 
D’Alemberts  ?  That  has  a  party  ready-made  for  him  in  the 
Notables  ?  —  Lomenie  de  Brienne,  Archbishop  of  Toulouse  ! 
answer  all  the  three,  with  the  clearest  instantaneous  concord ; 
and  rush  off  to  propose  him  to  the  King ;  “  in  such  haste,” 
says  Besenval,  “that  M.  de  Lamoignon  had  ho  borrow  a 
simarre ,”  seemingly  some  kind  of  cloth  apparatus  necessary 
for  that.1 


Lomenie-Brienne,  who  had  all  his  life  “  felt  a  kind  of  pre¬ 
destination  for  the  highest  offices,”  has  now  therefore  obtained 
them.  He  presides  over  the  Finances ;  he  shall  have  the  title 
of  Prime  Minister  itself,  and  the  effort  of  his  long  life  be 
realized.  Unhappy  only  that  it  took  such  talent  and  industry 
to  gain  the  place  ;  that  to  qualify  for  it  hardly  any  talent  or 
industry  was  left  disposable !  Looking  now  into  his  inner 
man,  what  qualification  he  may  have,  Lomenie  beholds,  not 
without  astonishment,  next  to  nothing  but  vacuity  and  possi¬ 
bility.  Principles  or  methods,  acquirement  outward  or  inward 
(for  his  very  body  is  wasted,  by  hard  tear  and  wear)  he  finds 
none  ;  not  so  much  as  a  plan,  even  an  unwise  one.  Lucky,  in 
these  circumstances,  that  Calonne  has  had  a  plan !  Calonne’s 
plan  was  gathered  from  Turgot’s  and  Keeker’s  by  compilation; 
shall  become  Lomenie’ s  by  adoption.  Not  in  vain  has  Lomenie 
studied  the  working  of  the  British  Constitution ;  for  he  pro¬ 
fesses  to  have  some  Anglomania,  of  a  sort.  Why,  in  that  free 
country,  does  one  Minister,  driven  out  by  Parliament,  vanish 
from  his  King’s  presence,  and  another  enter,  borne  in  by  Par¬ 
liament  ? 2  Surely  not  for  mere  change  (which  is  ever  waste¬ 
ful)  ;  but  that  all  men  may  have  share  of  what  is  going ;  and 
so  the  strife  of  Freedom  indefinitely  prolong  itself,  and  no 
harm  be  done. 

The  Notables,  mollified  by  Easter  festivities,  by  the  sacri- 

1  Besenval,  iii.  224. 

2  Montgaillard  :  Ilistoire  de  France,  i.  410-417. 


Chap.  III.  THE  NOTABLES.  77 

Apri  1-May. 

lice  of  Calonne,  are  not  in  the  worst  humor.  Already  his 
Majesty,  while  the  “interlunar  shadows”  were  in  office,  had 
held  session  of  Notables ;  and  from  his  throne  delivered  prom¬ 
issory  conciliatory  eloquence  :  “  the  Queen  stood  waiting  at  a 
window,  till  his  carriage  came  back  ;  and  Monsieur  from  afar 
clapped  hands  to  her,”  in  sign  that  all  was  well.1  It  has  had 
the  best  effect ;  if  such  do  but  last.  Leading  Notables  mean¬ 
while  can  be  “  caressed ;  ”  Brienne’s  new  gloss,  Lamoignon’s 
long  head  will  profit  somewhat ;  conciliatory  eloquence  shall 
not  be  wanting.  On  the  whole,  however,  is  it  not  undeniable 
that  this  of  ousting  Calonne  and  adopting  the  plans  of  Calonne, 
is  a  measure  which,  to  produce  its  best  effect,  should  be  looked 
at  from  a  certain  distance,  cursorily ;  not  dwelt  on  with  minute 
near  scrutiny  ?  In  a  word,  that  no  service  the  Notables  could 
now  do  were  so  obliging  as,  in  some  handsome  manner,  to  — 
take  themselves  away  ?  Their  “  Six  Propositions  ”  about  Pro¬ 
visional  Assemblies,  suppression  of  Corvees  and  such  like,  can 
be  accepted  without  criticism.  The  Subvention  or  Land-tax, 
and  much  else,  one  must  glide  hastily  over ;  safe  nowhere  but 
in  flourishes  of  conciliatory  eloquence.  Till  at  length,  on  this 
25th  of  May,  year  1787,  in  solemn  final  session,  there  bursts 
forth  what  we  can  call  an  explosion  of  eloquence ;  King, 
Lomenie,  Lamoignon  and  retinue  taking  up  the  successive 
strain ;  in  harangues  to  the  number  of  ten,  besides  his  Maj¬ 
esty’s,  which  last  the  livelong  day;  —  whereby,  as  in  a  kind  of 
choral  anthem,  or  bravura  peal,  of  thanks,  praises,  promises, 
the  Notables  are,  so  to  speak,  organed  out,  and  dismissed  to 
their  respective  places  of  abode.  They  had  sat,  and  talked, 
some  nine  weeks:  they  were  the  first  Notables  since  Riche¬ 
lieu’s,  in  the  year  1626. 

By  some  Historians,  sitting  much  at  their  ease,  in  the  safe 
distance,  Lomenie  has  been  blamed  for  this  dismissal  of  his 
Notables  :  nevertheless  it  was  clearly  time.  There  are  things, 
as  we  said,  which  should  not  be  dwelt  on  with  minute  close 
scrutiny :  over  hot  coals  you  cannot  glide  too  fast.  In  these 
Seven  Bureaus,  where  no  work  could  be  done,  unless  talk  were 

1  Besenval,  iii.  220. 


78  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

work,  the  questionablest  matters  were  coming  up.  Lafayette, 
for  example,  in  Monseigneur  <F Artois’  Bureau,  took  upon  him 
to  set  forth  more  than  one  deprecatory  oration  about  Lettres- 
de-Cachet ,  Liberty  of  the  Subject,  Agio ,  and  such  like ;  which 
Monseigneur  endeavoring  to  repress,  was  answered  that  a  No¬ 
table  being  summoned  to  speak  his  opinion  must  speak  it.1 

Thus  too  his  Grace  the  Archbishop  of  Aix  perorating  once, 
with  a  plaintive  pulpit-tone,  in  these  words  :  “  Tithe,  that 
free-will  offering  of  the  piety  of  Christians  ”  —  “  Tithe,”  in¬ 
terrupted  Duke  la  Rochefoucauld,  with  the  cold  business- 
manner  he  has  learned  from  the  English,  “  that  free-will 
offering  of  the  piety  of  Christians ;  on  which  there  are  now 
forty  thousand  lawsuits  in  this  realm.”  2  Nay,  Lafayette, 
bound  to  speak  his  opinion,  went  the  length,  one  day,  of  pro¬ 
posing  to  convoke  a  “  National  Assembly.”  “You  demand 
States-General  ?  ”  asked  Monseigneur  with  an  air  of  minatory 
surprise.  —  “  Yes,  Monseigneur  ;  and  even  better  than  that.” 
—  “  Write  it,”  said  Monseigneur  to  the  Clerks.3  —  Written  ac¬ 
cordingly  it  is  ;  and  what  is  more,  will  be  acted  by  and  by. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

lomenie’s  edicts. 

Thus,  then,  have  the  Notables  returned  home  ;  carrying,  to 
all  quarters  of  France,  such  notions  of  deficit,  decrepitude, 
distraction ;  and  that  States-General  will  cure  it,  or  will  not 
cure  it  but  kill  it.  Each  Notable,  we  may  fancy,  is  as  a 
funereal  torch ;  disclosing  hideous  abysses,  better  left  hid  ! 
The  unquietest  humor  possesses  all  men ;  ferments,  seeks 
issue,  in  pamphleteering,  caricaturing,  projecting,  declaiming ; 
vain  jangling  of  thought,  word  and  deed. 

1  Montgaillard,  i.  360. 

2  Dumont :  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  20. 

3  Toulongeon  :  Histoire  de  France  depuis  la  Revolution  de  1789  (Paris,  1803), 
i.  app.  4. 


Chap.  IV.  LOMENIE’S  EDICTS.  79 

May-June. 

It  is  Spiritual  Bankruptcy,  long  tolerated ;  verging  now 
towards  Economical  Bankruptcy,  and  become  intolerable.  For 
from  the  lowest  dumb  rank,  the  inevitable  misery,  as  was 
predicted,  has  spread  upwards.  In  every  man  is  some  obscure 
feeling  that  his  position,  oppressive  or  else  oppressed,  is  a 
false  one :  all  men,  in  one  or  the  other  acrid  dialect,  as  as¬ 
saulters  or  as  defenders,  must  give  vent  to  the  unrest  that  is 
in  them.  Of  such  stuff  national  well-being,  and  the  glory  of 
rulers,  is  not  made.  0  Lomenie,  what  a  wild-heaving,  waste¬ 
looking,  hungry  and  angry  world  hast  thou,  after  life-long 
effort,  got  promoted  to  take  charge  of ! 

Lomenie’s  first  Edicts  are  mere  soothing  ones  :  creation  of 
Provincial  Assemblies,  “  for  apportioning  the  imposts/7  when 
we  get  any ;  suppression  of  Corvees  or  statute-labor ;  allevia¬ 
tion  of  Gabelle.  Soothing  measures,  recommended  by  the 
Notables  ;  long  clamored  for  by  all  liberal  men.  Oil  cast  on 
the  waters  has  been  known  to  produce  a  good  effect.  Before 
venturing  with  great  essential  measures,  Lomenie  will  see  this 
singular  “  swell  of  the  public  mind  77  abate  somewhat. 

Most  proper,  surely.  But  what  if  it  were  not  a  swell  of  the 
abating  kind  ?  There  are  swells  that  come  of  upper  tempest 
and  wind-gust.  But  again  there  are  swells  that  come  of  sub¬ 
terranean  pent  wind,  some  say  ;  and  even  of  inward  decompo¬ 
sition,  of  decay  that  has  become  self-combustion  :  —  as  when, 
according  to  Neptuno-Plutonic  Geology,  the  World  is  all  de¬ 
cayed  down  into  due  attritus  of  this  sort ;  and  shall  now  be 
exploded,  and  new  made  !  These  latter  abate  not  by  oil.  — 
The  fool  says  in  his  heart,  How  shall  not  to-morrow  be  as 
yesterday  ;  as  all  days,  —  which  were  once  to-morrows  ?  The 
wise  man,  looking  on  this  France,  moral,  intellectual,  economi¬ 
cal,  sees,  “  in  short,  all  the  symptoms  he  has  ever  met  with  in 
history/7  —  imabatable  by  soothing  Edicts. 

Meanwhile,  abate  or  not,  cash  must  be  had ;  and  for  that, 
quite  another  sort  of  Edicts,  namely,  “  bursal 77  or  fiscal  ones. 
How  easy  were  fiscal  Edicts,  did  you  know  for  certain  that 
the  Parlement  of  Paris  would  what  they  call  “  register 77  them ! 


80  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

Such  right  of  registering,  properly  of  mere  writing  down ,  the 
Parlement  has  got  by  old  wont ;  and,  though  but  a  Law-Court, 
can  remonstrate,  and  higgle  considerably  about  the  same. 
Hence  many  quarrels ;  desperate  Maupeou  devices,  and  vic¬ 
tory  and  defeat  ;  —  a  quarrel  now  near  forty  years  long. 
Hence  fiscal  Edicts,  which  otherwise  were  easy  enough,  be¬ 
come  such  problems.  For  example,  is  there  not  Calonne’s 
Subvention  Territonale,  universal,  unexempting  Land-tax  ;  the 
sheet-anchor  of  Finance  ?  Or,  to  show,  so  far  as  possible,  that 
one  is  not  without  original  finance  talent,  Lomenie  himself 
can  devise  an  Edit  du  Timbre  or  Stamp-tax,  —  borrowed  also, 
it  is  true ;  but  then  from  America :  may  it  prove  luckier  in 
France  than  there  ! 

France  has  her  resources  :  nevertheless,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
the  aspect  of  that  Parlement  is  questionable.  Already  among 
the  Notables,  in  that  final  symphony  of  dismissal,  the  Paris 
President  had  an  ominous  tone.  Adrien  Duport,  quitting 
magnetic  sleep,  in  this  agitation  of  the  world,  threatens  to 
rouse  himself  into  preternatural  wakefulness.  Shallower  but 
also  louder,  there  is  magnetic  D’Espremenil,  with  his  tropical 
heat  (he  was  born  at  Madras) ;  with  his  dusky  confused  vio¬ 
lence  ;  holding  of  Illumination,  Animal  Magnetism,  Public 
Opinion,  Adam  Weisshaupt,  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton,  and 
all  manner  of  confused  violent  things  :  of  whom  can  come  no 
good.  The  very  Peerage  is  infected  with  the  leaven.  Our 
Peers  have,  in  too  many  cases,  laid  aside  their  frogs,  laces, 
bag-wigs :  and  go  about  in  English  costume,  or  ride  rising  in 
their  stirrups,  —  in  the  most  headlong  manner ;  nothing  but 
insubordination,  eleutheromania,  confused  unlimited  opposi¬ 
tion  in  their  heads.  Questionable :  not  to  be  ventured  upon, 
if  we  had  a  Fortunatus’  Purse  !  But.  Lomenie  has  waited  all 
June,  casting  on  the  waters  what  oil  he  had ;  and  now,  betide 
as  it  may,  the  two  Finance  Edicts  must  out.  On  the  6th  of 
July,  he  forwards  his  proposed  Stamp-tax  and  Land-tax  to  the 
Parlement  of  Paris ;  and,  as  if  putting  his  own  leg  foremost, 
not  his  borrowed  Calonne’s-leg,  places  the  Stamp-tax  first  in 
order. 

Alas,  the  Parlement  will  not  register:  the  Parlement  de- 


Chap.  IV.  LOMENIE’S  EDICTS.  81 

May-J  une. 

mands  instead  a  “ state  of  the  expenditure/’  a  “state  of  the 
contemplated  reductions ;  ”  “  states  ”  enough  ;  which  his  Maj¬ 
esty  must  decline  to  furnish !  Discussions  arise ;  patriotic 
eloquence  :  the  Peers  are  summoned.  Does  the  Nemean  Lion 
begin  to  bristle  ?  Here  surely  is  a  duel,  which  France  and 
the  Universe  may  look  upon :  with  prayers  ;  at  lowest,  with 
curiosity  and  bets.  Paris  stirs  with  new  animation.  The 
outer  courts  of  the  Palais  de  Justice  roll  with  unusual  crowds, 
coming  and  going ;  their  huge  outer  hum  mingles  with  the 
clang  of  patriotic  eloquence  within,  and  gives  vigor  to  it. 
Poor  Lomenie  gazes  from  the  distance,  little  comforted;  has 
his  invisible  emissaries  flying  to  and  fro,  assiduous,  without 
result. 

So  pass  the  sultry  dog-days,  in  the  most  electric  manner; 
and  the  whole  month  of  July.  And  still,  in  the  Sanctuary  of 
Justice,  sounds  nothing  but  Harmodius-Aristogiton  eloquence, 
environed  with  the  hum  of  crowding  Paris ;  and  no  register¬ 
ing  accomplished,  and  no  “  states  ”  furnished.  “  States  ?  ”  said 
a  lively  Parlementeer :  “  Messieurs,  the  states  that  should  be 
furnished  us,  in  my  opinion  are  the  States-General.”  On 
which  timely  joke  there  follow  cachinnatory  buzzes  of  approval. 
What  a  word  to  be  spoken  in  the  Palais  de  J ustice !  Old 
D’Ormesson  (the  Ex-Controller’s  uncle)  shakes  his  judicious 
head;  far  enough  from  laughing.  But  the  outer  courts,  and 
Paris  and  France,  catch  the  glad  sound,  and  repeat  it ;  shall 
repeat  it,  and  re-echo  and  reverberate  it,  till  it  grow  a  deafening 
peal.  Clearly  enough  here  is  no  registering  to  be  thought  of. 

The  pious  Proverb  says,  “There  are  remedies  for  all  things 
but  death.”  When  a  Parlement  refuses  registering,  the  rem¬ 
edy,  by  long  practice,  has  become  familiar  to  the  simplest: 
a  Bed  of  Justipe.  One  complete  month  this  Parlement  has 
spent  in  mere  idle  jargoning,  and  sound  and  fury ;  the  Timbre 
Edict  not  registered,  or  like  to  be ;  the  Subvention  not  yet  so 
much  as  spoken  of.  On  the  6th  of  August  let  the  whole  re¬ 
fractory  Body  roll  out,  in  wheeled  vehicles,  as  far  as  the 
King’s  Chateau  of  Versailles  ;  there  shall  the  King,  holding  his 
Bed  of  Justice,  order  them,  by  his  own  royal  lips,  to  register. 

VOL.  in.  6 


82  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787  i 

They  may  remonstrate,  in  an  undertone ;  but  they  must  obey, 
lest  a  worse  unknown  thing  befall  them. 

It  is  done :  the  Parlement  has  rolled  out,  on  royal  sum, 
mons  ;  has  heard  the  express  royal  order  to  register.  Where¬ 
upon  it  has  rolled  back  again,  amid  the  hushed  expectancy 
of  men.  And  now,  behold,  on  the  morrow,  this  Parlement, 
seated  once  more  in  its  own  Palais,  with  “  crowds  inundating 
the  outer  courts/’  not  only  does  not  register,  but  (0  portent !) 
declares  all  that  was  done  on  the  prior  day  to  be  null ,  and 
the  Bed  of  Justice  as  good  as  a  futility!  In  the  history  of 
France  here  verily  is  a  new  feature.  Nay  better  still,  our 
heroic  Parlement,  getting  suddenly  enlightened  on  several 
things,  declares  that,  for  its  part,  it  is  incompetent  to  register 
Tax-edicts  at  all, — having  done  it  by  mistake,  during  these 
late  centuries ;  that  for  such  act  one  authority  only  is  compe¬ 
tent  :  the  assembled  Three  Estates  of  the  Realm ! 

To  such  length  can  the  universal  spirit  of  a  Nation  pene¬ 
trate  the  most  isolated  Body-corporate :  say  rather,  with  such 
weapons,  homicidal  and  suicidal,  in  exasperated  political  duel, 
will  Bodies-corporate  fight !  But,  in  any  case,  is  not  this  the 
real  death-grapple  of  war  and  internecine  duel,  Greek  meeting 
Greek ;  whereon  men,  had  they  even  no  interest  in  it,  might 
look  with  interest  unspeakable  ?  Crowds,  as  was  said,  inun¬ 
date  the  outer  courts :  inundation  of  young  eleutheromaniac 
Noblemen  in  English  costume,  uttering  audacious  speeches ; 
of  Procureurs,  Basoche-Clerks,  who  are  idle  in  these  days ;  of 
Loungers,  Newsmongers  and  other  nondescript  classes,  —  rolls 
tumultuous  there.  “From  three  to  four  thousand  persons,” 
waiting  eagerly  to  hear  the  Arretes  (Resolutions)  you  arrive 
at  within ;  applauding  with  bravos,  with  the  clapping  of  from 
six  to  eight  thousand  hands !  Sweet  also  is  the  meed  of 
patriotic  eloquence,  when  your  D’Espremenil,  your  Freteau,  or 
Sabatier,  issuing  from  his  Demosthenic  Olympus,  the  thunder 
being  hushed  for  the  day,  is  welcomed,  in  the  outer  courts, 
with  a  shout  from  four  thousand  throats ;  is  borne  home 
shoulder-high  “  with  benedictions,”  and  strikes  the  stars  with 
his  sublime  head. 


Chap.  V. 
August. 


LOMENIE’S  THUNDERBOLTS. 


83 


CHAPTER  V. 

lomenie’s  thunderbolts. 

« 

Arise,  Lomenie-Brienne :  here  is  no  case  for  “  Letters  of 
Jussion ;  ”  for  faltering  or  compromise.  Thou  seest  the  whole 
loose  fluent  population  of  Paris  (whatsoever  is  not  solid,  and 
fixed  to  work)  inundating  these  outer  courts,  like  a  loud  de¬ 
structive  deluge  ;  the  very  Basoche  of  Lawyers’  Clerks  talks 
sedition.  The  lower  classes,  in  this  duel  of  Authority^  with 
Authority,  Greek  throttling  Greek,  have  ceased  to  respect  the 
City-Watch :  Police-satellites  are  marked  on  the  back  with 
chalk  (the  M  signifies  mouchard ,  spy) ;  they  are  hustled, 
hunted  like  ferae  naturae.  Subordinate  rural  Tribunals  send 
messengers  of  congratulation,  of  adherence.  Their  Fountain 
of  Justice  is  becoming  a  Eountain  of  Revolt.  The  Provincial 
Parlements  look  on,  with  intent  eye,  with  breathless  wishes, 
while  their  elder  sister  of  Paris  does  battle  :  the  whole 
Twelve  are  of  one  blood  and  temper ;  the  victory  of  one  is 
that  of  all. 

Ever  worse  it  grows :  on  the  10th  of  August,  there  is 
“ Plaints ”  emitted  touching  the  “prodigalities  of  Calonne,” 
and  permission  to  “proceed”  against  him.  No  registering, 
but  instead  of  it,  denouncing :  of  dilapidation,  peculation ; 
and  ever  the  burden  of  the  song,  States-General !  Have  the 
royal  armories  no  thunderbolt,  that  thou  couldst,  0  Lomenie, 
with  red  right-hand,  launch  it  among  these  Demosthenic  the¬ 
atrical  thunder-barrels,  mere  resin  and  noise  for  most  part ;  — 
and  shatter,  and  smite  them  silent  ?  On  the  night  of  the  14th 
of  August,  Lomenie  launches  his  thunderbolt,  or  handful  of 
them.  Letters  named  of  the  Seal  (de  Cachet ),  as  many  as 
needful,  some  sixscore  and  odd,  are  delivered  overnight.  And 
so,  next  day  betimes,  the  whole  Parlement,  once  more  set  on 
wheels,  is  rolling  incessantly  towards  Troyes  in  Champagne  ; 


84  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

“  escorted/’  says  History,  “  with  the  blessings  of  all  people  ;  ” 
the  very  innkeepers  and  postilions  looking  gratuitously  rever¬ 
ent.1  This  is  the  15th  of  August,  1787. 

What  will  not  people  bless  ;  in  their  extreme  need  !  Seldom 
had  the  Parlement  of  Paris  deserved  much  blessing,  or  re¬ 
ceived  much.  An  isolated  Body-corporate,  which,  out  of  old 
confusions  (while  the  Sceptre  ^  of  the  Sword  was  confusedly 
struggling  to  become  a  Sceptre  of  the  Pen),  had  got  itself  to¬ 
gether,  better  and  worse,  as  Bodies-corporate  do,  to  satisfy 
some  dim  desire  of  the  world,  and  many  clear  desires  of  indi¬ 
viduals  ;  and  so  had  grown,  in  the  course  of  centuries,  on  con¬ 
cession,  on  acquirement  and  usurpation,  to  be  what  we  see  it : 
a  prosperous  Social  Anomaly,  deciding  Lawsuits,  sanctioning 
or  rejecting  Laws ;  and  withal  disposing  of  its  places  and 
offices  by  sale  for  ready  money,  —  which  method  sleek  Presi¬ 
dent  Henault,  after  meditation,  will  demonstrate  to  be  the 
indifferent-best.2 

In  such  a  Body,  existing  by  purchase  for  ready  money,  there 
could  not  be  excess  of  public  spirit ;  there  might  well  be  ex¬ 
cess  of  eagerness  to  divide  the  public  spoil.  Men  in  helmets 
have  divided  that,  with  swords ;  men  in  wigs,  with  quill  and 
inkhorn,  do  divide  it :  and  even  more  hatefully  these  latter,  if 
more  peaceably;  for  the  wig-method  is  at  once  irresistibler 
and  baser.  By  long  experience,  says  Besenval,  it  has  been 
found  useless  to  sue  a  Parlementeer  at  law ;  no  Officer  of  Jus¬ 
tice  will  serve  a  writ  on  one  :  his  wig  and  gown  are  his  Vul- 
can’s-panoply,  his  enchanted  cloak-of-darkness. 

The  Parlement  of  Paris  may  count  itself  an  unloved  body  ; 
mean,  not  magnanimous,  on  the  political  side.  Were  the 
King  weak,  always  (as  now)  has  his  Parlement  barked,  cur- 
like  at  his  heels ;  with  what  popular  cry  there  might  be. 
Were  he  strong,  it  barked  before  his  face ;  hunting  for  him 
as  his  alert  beagle.  An  unjust  Body ;  where  foul  influences 
have  more  than  once  worked  shameful  perversion  of  judgment. 
Does  not,  in  these  very  days,  the  blood  of  murdered  Lally  cry 

1  A.  Lameth  :  Histoire  de  V  Assembles  Constituante  (Int.  73). 

2Abre'ge  Chronologique,  p.  975. 


Chap.  V.  LOMENIE’S  THUNDERBOLTS.  85 

August. 

aloud  for  vengeance  ?  Baited,  circumvented,  driven  mad  like 
tlie  snared  lion,  Valor  had  to  sink  extinguished  under  vindic¬ 
tive  Chicane.  Behold  him,  that  hapless  Lally,  his  wild  dark 
soul  looking  through  his  wild  dark  face ;  trailed  on  the  igno¬ 
minious  death-hurdle  ;  the  voice  of  his  despair  choked  by  a 
wooden  gag !  The  wild  fire-soul  that  has  known  only  peril  and 
toil ;  and,  for  threescore  years,  has  buffeted  against  Bate’s  ob¬ 
struction  and  men’s  perfidy,  like  genius  and  courage  amid  pol¬ 
troonery,  dishonesty  and  commonplace  ;  faithfully  enduring 
and  endeavoring,  —  0  Parlement  of  Paris,  dost  thou  reward  it 
with  a  gibbet  and  a  gag  ? 1  The  dying  Lally  bequeathed  his 
memory  to  his  boy ;  a  young  Lally  has  arisen,  demanding  re¬ 
dress  in  the  name  of  God  and  man.  The  Parlement  of  Paris 
does  its  utmost  to  defend  the  indefensible,  abominable ;  nay, 
what  is  singular,  dusky-glowing  Aristogiton  d’Espremenil  is 
the  man  chosen  to  be  its  spokesman  in  that. 

Such  Social  Anomaly  is  it  that  France  now  blesses.  An 
unclean  Social  Anomaly ;  but  in  duel  against  another  worse  ! 
The  exiled  Parlement  is  felt  to  have  u  covered  itself  with 
glory.”  There  are  quarrels  in  which  even  Satan,  bringing- 
help,  were  not  unwelcome  ;  even  Satan,  fighting  stiffly,  might 
cover  himself  with  glory,  —  of  a  temporary  sort. 

But  what  a  stir  in  the  outer  courts  of  the  Palais,  when  Paris 
finds  its  Parlement  trundled  off  to  Troyes  in  Champagne ;  and 
nothing  left  but  a  few  mute  Keepers  of  Kecords  ;  the  Demos¬ 
thenic  thunder  become  extinct,  the  martyrs  of  liberty  clean 
gone !  Confused  wail  and  menace  rise  from  the  four  thou¬ 
sand  throats  of  Procureurs,  Basoche-Clerks,  Nondescripts,  and 
Anglomaniac  Noblesse ;  ever  new  idlers  crowd  to  see  and 
hear;  Rascality,  with  increasing  numbers  and  vigor,  hunts 
mouchards.  Loud  whirlpool  rolls  through  these  spaces ;  the 
rest  of  the  City,  fixed  to  its  work,  cannot  yet  go  rolling.  Au¬ 
dacious  placards  are  legible ;  in  and  about  the  Palais,  the 
speeches  are  as  good  as  seditious.  Surely  the  temper  of  Paris 
is  much  changed.  On  the  third  day  of  this  business  (18th  of 
August),  Monsieur  and  Monseigneur  d’ Artois,  coming  in  state- 

1  9th  May,  1766  :  Biographie  Universelle,  §  Lally. 


86 


THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


Book  III. 
1787. 


carriages,  according  to  use  and  wont,  to  have  these  late  ob¬ 


noxious  Arretes  and  Protests  “ expunged”  from  the  Records, 
are  received  in  the  most  marked  manner.  Monsieur,  who  is 
thought  to  be  in  opposition,  is  met  with  vivats  and  strewed 
flowers :  Monseigneur,  on  the  other  hand,  with  silence ;  with 
murmurs,  which  rise  to  hisses  and  groans ;  nay  an  irreverent 
Rascality  presses  towards  him  in  floods,  with  such  hissing 
vehemence,  that  the  Captain  of  the  Guards  has  to  give  order, 
“  Haut  les  armies  (Handle  arms)  !  ”  —  at  which  thunder-word, 
indeed,  and  the  flash  of  the  clear  iron,  the  Rascal-flood  recoils, 
through  all  avenues,  fast  enough.1  New  features  these.  In¬ 
deed,  as  good  M.  de  Malesherbes  pertinently  remarks,  “  it  is 
a  quite  new  kind  of  contest  this  with  the  Parlement:”  no 
transitory  sputter,  as  from  collision  of  hard  bodies  ;  but  more 
like  “  the  first  sparks  of  what,  if  not  quenched,  may  become  a 
great  conflagration.”  2 

This  good  Malesherbes  sees  himself  now  again  in  the  King’s 
Council,  after  an  absence  of  ten  years  :  Lomenie  would  profit 
if  not  by  the  faculties  of  the  man,  yet  by  the  name  he  has. 
As  for  the  man’s  opinion,  it  is  not  listened  to ;  —  wherefore  he 
will  soon  withdraw,  a  second  time  ;  back  to  his  books  and  his 
trees.  In  such  King’s  Council  what  can  a  good  man  profit  ? 
Turgot  tries  it  not  a  second  time :  Turgot  has  quitted  France 
and  this  Earth,  some  years  ago ;  and  now  cares  for  none  of 
these  things.  Singular  enough:  Turgot,  this  same  Lomenie, 
and  the  Abbe  Morellet  were  once  a  trio  of  young  friends  ; 
fellow-scholars  in  the  Sorbonne.  Forty  new  years  have  carried 
them  severally  thus  far. 

Meanwhile  the  Parlement  sits  daily  at  Troyes,  calling  cases ; 
and  daily  adjourns,  no  Procureur  making  his  appearance  to 
plead.  Troyes  is  as  hospitable  as  could  be  looked  for :  never¬ 
theless  one  has  comparatively  a  dull  life.  No  crowds  now  to 
carry  you,  shoulder-high,  to  the  immortal  gods  ;  scarcely  a 
Patriot  or  two  will  drive  out  so  far,  and  bid  you  be  of  firm 
courage.  You  are  in  furnished  lodgings,  far  from  home  and 
domestic  comfort  :  little  to  do,  but  wander  over  the  unlovely 


1  Montgaillard,  i.  369.  Besenval,  &c. 

2  Montgaillard,  i.  373. 


LOMENIE’S  PLOTS. 


87 


Chap.  VI. 
Aug. -Sept. 


Champagne  fields  ;  seeing  the  grapes  ripen ;  taking  counsel 
about  the  thousand-times  consulted  ;  a  prey  to  tedium  ;  in 
danger  even  that  Paris  may  forget  you.  Messengers  come 
and  go ;  pacific  Lomenie  is  not  slack  in  negotiating,  promis¬ 
ing  ;  D’Ormesson  and  the  prudent  elder  Members  see  no  good 
in  strife. 

After  a  dull  month,  the  Parlement,  yielding  and  retaining, 
makes  truce,  as  all  Parlements  must.  The  Stamp-tax  is  with¬ 
drawn  ;  the  Subvention  Land-tax  is  also  withdrawn ;  but,  in 
its  stead,  there  is  granted,  what  they  call  a  “  Prorogation  of 
the  Second  Twentieth,”  —  itself  a  kind  of  Land-tax,  but  not  so 
oppressive  to  the  Influential  classes ;  which  lies  mainly  on  the 
Dumb  class.  Moreover,  secret  promises  exist  (on  the  part  of 
the  Elders),  that  finances  may  be  raised  by  Loan.  Of  the  ugly 
word  States-General  there  shall  be  no  mention. 

And  so,  on  the  20tli  of  September,  our  exiled  Parlement 
returns  :  D’Espremenil  said  “  it  went  out  covered  with  glory, 
but  had  come  back  covered  with  mud  (de  boue ).”  Not  so, 
Aristogiton ;  or  if  so,  thou  surely  art  the  man  to  clean  it. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
lomenie’s  plots. 

Was  ever  unfortunate  Chief  Minister  so  bested  at  Lomenie- 
Brienne  ?  The  reins  of  the  State  fairly  in  his  hand  these  six 
months  ;  and  not  the  smallest  motive-power  (of  Finance)  to 
stir  from  the  spot  with,  this  way  or  that !  He  flourishes  his 
whip,  but  advances  not.  Instead  of  ready  money,  there  is 
nothing  but  rebellious  debating  and  recalcitrating. 

Far  is  the  public  mind  from  having  calmed;  it  goes  chafing 
and  fuming  ever  worse :  and  in  the  royal  coffers,  with  such 
yearly  Deficit  running  on,  there  is  hardly  the  color  of  coin. 
Ominous  prognostics  !  Malesherbes,  seeing  an  exhausted, 
exasperated  France  grow  hotter  and  hotter,  talks  of  “  con¬ 
flagration  :  ”  Mirabeau,  without  talk,  has,  as  we  perceive, 


88  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

descended  on  Paris  again,  close  on  the  rear  of  the  Parlement,1  — 
not  to  quit  his  native  soil  any  more. 

Over  the  Frontiers,  behold  Holland  invaded  by  Prussia ; 2 
the  French  party  oppressed,  England  and  the  Stadtholder 
triumphing :  to  the  sorrow  of  War-secretary  Montmorin  and 
all  men.  But  without  money,  sinews  of  war,  as  of  work,  and 
of  existence  itself,  what  can  a  Chief  Minister  do  ?  Taxes 
profit  little :  this  of  the  Second  Twentieth  falls  not  due  till 
next  year ;  and  will  then,  with  its  “  strict  valuation,”  produce 
more  controversy  than  cash.  Taxes  on  the  Privileged  Classes 
cannot  be  got  registered ;  are  intolerable  to  our  supporters 
themselves:  taxes  on  the  Unprivileged  yield  nothing, — as 
from  a  thing  drained  dry  more  cannot  be  drawn.  Hope  is 
nowhere,  if  not  in  the  old  refuge  of  Loans. 

To  Lomenie,  aided  by  the  long  head  of  Lamoignon,  deeply 
pondering  this  sea  of  troubles,  the  thought  suggested  itself : 
Why  not  have  a  Successive  Loan  ( Emprunt  Successif),  or 
Loan  that  went  on  lending,  year  after  year,  as  much  as  need¬ 
ful;  say,  till  1792?  The  trouble  of  registering  such  Loan 
were  the  same :  we  had  then  breathing-time ;  money  to  work 
with,  at  least  to  subsist  on.  Edict  of  a  Successive  Loan  must 
be  proposed.  To  conciliate  the  Philosophes,  let  a  liberal 
Edict  walk  in  front  of  it,  for  emancipation  of  Protestants  ; 
let  a  liberal  Promise  guard  the  rear  of  it,  that  when  our 
Loan  ends,  in  that  final  1792,  the  States-Gfeneral  shall  be 
convoked. 

Such  liberal  Edict  of  Protestant  Emancipation,  the  time 
having  come  for  it,  shall  cost  a  Lomenie  as  little  as  the 
“  Death-penalties  to  be  put  in  execution  ”  did.  As  for  the 
liberal  Promise,  of  States-General,  it  can  be  fulfilled  or  not  : 
the  fulfilment  is  five  good  years  off ;  in  five  years  much  inter¬ 
venes.  But  the  registering  ?  Ah,  truly,  there  is  the  diffi¬ 
culty ! —  However,  we  have  that  promise  of  the  Elders,  given 
secretly  at  Troyes.  Judicious  gratuities,  cajoleries,  under¬ 
ground  intrigues,  with  old  Foulon,  named  u  Ame  damnee,  Fa¬ 
miliar  demon,  of  the  Parlement,”  may  perhaps  do  the  rest. 

1  Fils  Adoptif  :  Mirabeau,  iv.  1.  5. 

2  October,  1787.  Montgaillard,  i.  374.  Besenval,  iii.  283. 


Chap.  VI.  LOMENIE’S  PLOTS.  89 

Oct.-Nov. 

At  worst  and  lowest,  the  Eoyal  Authority  has  resources, — 
which  ought  it  not  to  put  forth  ?  If  it  cannot  realize  money, 
the  Eoyal  Authority  is  as  good  as  dead ;  dead  of  that  surest 
and  miserablest  death,  inanition.  Eisk  and  win  ;  without 
risk  all  is  already  lost !  Eor  the  rest,  as  in  enterprises  of 
pith,  a  touch  of  stratagem  often  proves  furthersome,  his 
Majesty  announces  a  Royal  Hunt ,  for  the  19th  of  November 
next  ;  and  all  whom  it  concerns  are  joyfully  getting  their 
gear  ready. 

Eoyal  Hunt  indeed ;  but  of  two-legged  unfeathered  game  ! 
At  eleven  in  the  morning  of  that  Eoyal-Hunt  day,  19th  of 
November,  1787,  unexpected  blare  of  trumpeting,  tumult  of 
charioteering  and  cavalcading  disturbs  the  Seat^of  Justice: 
his  Majesty  is  come,  with  Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon,  and 
Peers  and  retinue,  to  hold  Eoyal  Session  and  have  Edicts 
registered.  What  a  change,  since  Louis  XIV.  entered  here, 
in  boots  ;  and,  whip  in  hand,  ordered  his  registering  to  be 
done,  —  with  an  Olympian  look,  which  none  durst  gainsay ; 
and  did,  without  stratagem,  in  such  unceremonious  fashion, 
hunt  as  well  as  register  ! 1  For  Louis  XVI.,  on  this  day,  the 
Eegistering  will  be  enough;  if  indeed  he  and  the  day  suffice 
for  it. 

Meanwhile,  with  fit  ceremonial  words,  the  purpose  of  the 
royal  breast  is  signified :  —  Two  Edicts,  for  Protestant  Eman¬ 
cipation,  for  Successive  Loan :  of  both  which  Edicts  our  trusty 
Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon  will  explain  the  purport ;  on 
both  which  a  trusty  Parlement  is  requested  to  deliver  its 
opinion,  each  member  having  free  privilege  of  speech.  And 
so,  Lamoignon  too  having  perorated  not  amiss,  and  wound  up 
with  that  Promise  of  State s-General,  — the  Sphere-music  of  Par- 
lementary  eloquence  begins.  Explosive,  responsive,  sphere  an¬ 
swering  sphere,  it  waxes  louder  and  louder.  The  Peers  sit 
attentive ;  of  diverse  sentiment :  unfriendly  to  States-General ; 
unfriendly  to  Despotism,  which  cannot  reward  merit,  and  is 
suppressing  places.  But  what  agitates  his  Highness  d’Or- 
leans  ?  The  rubicund  moon-head  goes  wagging ;  darker  beams 
the  copper  visage,  like  unscoured  copper  ;  in  the  glazed  eye  is 

1  Dulaure,  vi.  306. 


90  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1787. 

disquietude ;  he  rolls  uneasy  in  his  seat,  as  if  he  meant  some¬ 
thing.  Amid  unutterable  satiety,  has  sudden  new  appetite, 
for  new  forbidden  fruit,  been  vouchsafed  him  ?  Disgust  and 
edacity  ;  laziness  that  cannot  rest ;  futile  ambition,  revenge, 
non-admiralship  :  —  oh,  within  that  carbuncled  skin,  what  a 
confusion  of  confusions  sits  bottled ! 

“  Eight  Couriers,”  in  the  course  of  the  day,  gallop  from 
Versailles,  where  Lomenie  waits  palpitating;  and  gallop  back 
again,  not  with  the  best  news.  In  the  outer  Courts  of  the 
Palais,. huge  buzz  of  expectation  reigns;  it  is  whispered  the 
Chief  Minister  has  lost  six  votes  overnight.  And  from  within, 
resounds  nothing  but  forensic  eloquence,  pathetic  and  even 
indignant ;  heart-rending  appeals  to  the  royal  clemency,  that 
his  Majesty  would  please  to  summon  States-General  forthwith, 
and  be  the  Savior  of  France  :  —  wherein  dusky-glowing  D’Es- 
premenil,  but  still  more  Sabatier  de  Cabre,  and  Freteau,  since 
named  Commere  Freteau  (Goody  Freteau),  are  among  the  loud¬ 
est.  For  six  mortal  hours  it  lasts,  in  this  manner ;  the  infinite 
hubbub  unslackened. 

And  so  now,  when  brown  dusk  is  falling  through  the  win¬ 
dows,  and  no  end  visible,  His  Majesty,  on  hint  of  Garde-des- 
Sceaux  Lamoignon,  opens  his  royal  lips  once  more  to  say,  in 
brief,  That  he  must  have  his  Loan-Edict  registered.  —  Momen¬ 
tary  deep  pause  !  —  See  !  Monseigneur  d’ Orleans  rises ;  with 
moon-visage  turned  towards  the  royal  platform,  he  asks,  with 
a  delicate  graciosity  of  manner  covering  unutterable  things : 
“Whether  it  is  a  Bed  of  Justice,  then,  or  a  Royal  Session?” 
Fire  flashes  on  him  from  the  throne  and  neighborhood:  surly 
answer  that  “  it  is  a  Session.”  In  that  case,  Monseigneur  will 
crave  leave  to  remark  that  Edicts  cannot  be  registered  by  order 
in  a  Session ;  and  indeed  to  enter,  against  such  registry,  his 
individual  humble  Protest.  “  Vous  etes  lien  le  maitre  (You 
will  do  your  pleasure),”  answers  the  King ;  and  thereupon,  in 
high  state,  marches  out,  escorted  by  his  Court-retinue ;  D’O-r- 
leans  himself,  as  in  duty  bound,  escorting  him,  but  only  to  the 
gate.  Which  duty  done,  D’Orleans  returns  in  from  the  gate  ; 
redacts  his  Protest,  in  the  face  of  an  applauding  Parlement, 
an  applauding  France ;  and  so  —  has  cut  his  Court-moorings, 


Chap.  VI.  LOMENIE’S  PLOTS.  91 

November. 

shall  we  say  ?  And  will  now  sail  and  drift,  fast  enough, 
towards  Chaos  ? 

Thou  foolish  D’Orleans ;  Equality  that  art  to  be  !  Is  Loy¬ 
alty  grown  a  mere  wooden  Scarecrow ;  whereon  thou,  pert 
scald-headed  crow,  mayest  alight  at  pleasure,  and  peck  ?  Not 
yet  wholly. 

Next  day,  a  Lettre-de- Cachet  sends  D’Orleans  to  bethink 
himself  in  his  Chateau  of  Villers-Cotterets,  where,  alas,  is  no 
Paris  with  its  joyous  necessaries  of  life  ;  no  fascinating  indis¬ 
pensable  Madame  de  Buffon,  —  light  wife  of  a  great  Naturalist 
much  too  old  for  her.  Monseigneur,  it  is  said,  does  nothing 
but  walk  distractedly,  at  Villers-Cotterets ;  cursing  his  stars. 
Versailles  itself  shall  hear  penitent  wail  from  him,  so  hard  is 
his  doom.  By  a  second,  simultaneous  Lettre-de- Cachet,  Goody 
Ereteau  is  hurled  into  the  Stronghold  of  Ham,  amid  the  Nor¬ 
man  marshes ;  by  a  third,  Sabatier  de  Cabre  into  Mont  St. 
Michel,  amid  the  Norman  quicksands.  As  for  the  Parle- 
ment,  it  must,  on  summons,  travel  out  to  Versailles,  with  its 
Register-Book  under  its  arm,  to  have  the  Protest  bijfe  (ex¬ 
punged)  ;  not  without  admonition,  and  even  rebuke.  A  stroke 
of  authority,  which,  one  might  have  hoped,  would  quiet 
matters. 

Unhappily,  no  :  it  is  a  mere  taste  of  the  whip  to  rearing 
coursers,  which  makes  them  rear  worse  !  When  a  team  of 
Twenty-five  Millions  begins  rearing,  what  is  Lomenie’s  whip  ? 
The  Parlement  will  nowise  acquiesce  meekly  ;  and  set  to  regis¬ 
ter  the  Protestant  Edict,  and  do  its  other  work,  in  salutary 
fear  of  these  three  Lettres-de-Cachet.  Ear  from  that,  it  begins 
questioning  Lettres-de-Cachet  generally,  their  legality,  endura¬ 
bility  ;  emits  dolorous  objurgation,  petition  on  petition  to  have 
its  three  Martyrs  delivered  ;  cannot,  till  that  be  complied  with, 
so  much  as  think  of  examining  the  Protestant  Edict,  but  puts 
it  off  always  “  till  this  day  week.”  1 

In  which  objurgatory  strain  Paris  and  Erance  join  it,  or 
rather  have  preceded  it ;  making  fearful  chorus.  And  now  also 
the  other  Parlements,  at  length  opening  their  mouths,  begin 

1  Besenval,  iii.  309. 


92  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book1JH* 

^  17o7. 

to  join;  some  of  them,  as  at  Grenoble  and  at  Rennes,  with 
portentous  emphasis,  —  threatening,  by  way  of  reprisal,  to  in¬ 
terdict  the  very  Tax-gatherer.1  “  In  all  former  contests, : ”  as 
Malesherbes  remarks,  “it  was  the  Parlement  that  excited  the 
Public ;  but  here  it  is  the  Public  that  excites  the  Parlement.” 


CHAPTER  VII. 

INTERNECINE. 

What  a  France,  through  these  winter  months  of  the  year 
1787  !  The  very  CEil-de-Boeuf  is  doleful,  uncertain ;  with  a 
general  feeling,  among  the  Suppressed,  that  it  were  better  to 
be  in  Turkey.  The  Wolf-hounds  are  suppressed,  the  Bear- 
hounds  ;  Duke  de  Coigny,  Duke  de  Polignac  :  in  the  Trianon 
little-heaven,  her  Majesty,  one  evening,  takes  Besenval’s  arm ; 
asks  his  candid  opinion.  The  intrepid  Besenval  —  having,  as 
he  hopes,  nothing  of  the  sycophant  in  him  —  plainly  signifies 
that,  with  a  Parlement  in  rebellion,  and  an  CEil-de-Boeuf  in 
suppression,  the  King’s  Crown  is  in  danger  ;  —  whereupon, 
singular  to  say,  her  Majesty,  as  if  hurt,  changed  the  subject, 
et  ne  me  parla  plus  de  rien  ! 2 

To  whom,  indeed,  can  this  poor  Queen  speak  ?  In  need  of 
wise  counsel,  if  ever  mortal  was ;  yet  beset  here  only  by  the 
hubbub  of  chaos  !  Her  dwelling-place  is  so  bright  to  the  eye, 
and  confusion  and  black  care  darken  it  all.  Sorrows  of  the 
Sovereign,  sorrows  of  the  woman,  thick-coming  sorrows  envi¬ 
ron  her  more  and  more.  Lamotte,  the  Necklace-Countess,  has 
in  these  late  months  escaped,  perhaps  been  suffered  to  escape, 
from  the  Salpetriere.  Vain  was  the  hope  that  Paris  might 
thereby  forget  her;  and  this  ever-widening  lie,  and  heap  of 
lies,  subside.  The  Lamotte,  with  a  V  (for  Voleuse,  Thief) 
branded  on  both  shoulders,  has  got  to  England;  and  will 
.  therefrom  emit  lie  on  lie ;  defiling  the  highest  queenly  name  : 


1  Weber,  i.  266. 


2  Besenval,  iii.  264. 


LITTLE  TRIANON  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 


INTERNECINE. 


Chap.  VII. 
1787-88. 


93 


mere  distracted  lies ; 1  which,  in  its  present  humor,  France 
will  greedily  believe. 


For  the  rest,  it  is  too  clear  our  Successive  Loan  is  not 
filling.  As  indeed,  in  such  circumstances,  a  Loan  registered 
by  expunging  of  Protests  was  not  the  likeliest  to  fill.  De¬ 
nunciation  of  Lettres-de- Cachet,  of  Despotism  generally,  abates 
not :  the  Twelve  Parlements  are  busy  ;  the  twelve  hundred 
Placarders,  Ballad-singers,  Pamphleteers.  Paris  is  what,  in 
figurative  speech,  they  call  “  flooded  with  pamphlets  ( regorge 
cle  brochures)  ;  ”  flooded  and  eddying  again.  Hot  deluge,  — 
from  so  many  Patriot  ready-writers,  all  at  the  fervid  or  boiling 
point ;  each  ready-writer,  now  in  the  hour  of  eruption,  going 
like  an  Iceland  Geyser  !  Against  which  what  can  a  judicious 
Friend  Morellet  do ;  a  Rivarol,  an  unruly  Linguet  (well  paid 
for  it),  —  spouting  cold  ! 

Now  also,  at  length,  does  come  discussion  of  the  Protestant 
Edict :  but  only  for  new  embroilment ;  in  pamphlet  and  coun¬ 
ter-pamphlet,  increasing  the  madness  of  men.  Not  even 
Orthodoxy,  bedrid  as  she  seemed,  but  will  have  a  hand  in  this 
confusion.  She  once  again  in  the  shape  of  Abbe  Lenfant, 
“  whom  Prelates  drive  to  visit  and  congratulate,”  —  raises 
audible  sound  from  her  pulpit-drum.2  Or  mark  how  D’Es- 
premenil,  who  has  his  own  confused  way  in  all  things,  pro¬ 
duces  at  the  right  moment  in  Parlementary  harangue,  a  pocket 
Crucifix,  with  the  apostrophe  :  u  Will  ye  crucify  him  afresh  ?  ” 
Him,  0  D’Espremenil,  without  scruple ;  —  considering  what 
poor  stuff,  of  ivory  and  filigree,  he  is  made  of ! 

To  all  which  add  only,  that  poor  Brienne  has  fallen  sick ; 
so  hard  was  the  tear  and  wear  of  his  sinful  youth,  so  violent, 
incessant  is  this  agitation  of  his  foolish  old  age.  Baited,  bayed 
at  through  so  many  throats,  his  Grace,  growing  consumptive, 
inflammatory  (with  liumeur  de  dartre),  lies  reduced  to  milk 
diet ;  in  exasperation,  almost  in  desperation ;  with  “  repose,” 

1  Memoires  justificatifs  de  la  Comtesse  de  Lamotte  (London,  1788).  Vie  de 
Jeanne  de  St.  Remt,  Comtesse  de  Lamotte,  &c.,  &c.  See  Diamond  Necklace  (ut 
supra). 

2  Lacretelle,  iii.  343.  Montgaillard,  &c. 


94  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1788. 

precisely  the  impossible  recipe,  prescribed  as  the  indispen¬ 
sable.1 

On  the  whole,  what  can  a  poor  Government  do,  but  once 
more  recoil  ineffectual  ?  The  King’s  Treasury  is  running 
towards  the  lees  ;  and  Paris  “  eddies  with  a  flood  of  pam¬ 
phlets.”  At  all  rates,  let  the  latter  subside  a  little  !  D’Or- 
leans  gets  back  to  Rainey,  which  is  nearer  Paris  and  the  fair 
frail  Buffon ;  finally  to  Paris  itself :  neither  are  Freteau  and 
Sabatier  banished  forever.  The  Protestant  Edict  is  regis¬ 
tered  ;  to  the  joy  of  Boissy  d’Anglas  and  good  Malesherbes  : 
Successive  Loan,  all  protests  expunged  or  else  withdrawn, 
remains  open,  —  the  rather  as  few  or  none  come  to  fill  it. 
States-General,  for  which  the  Parlement  has  clamored,  and 
now  the  whole  Nation  clamors,  will  follow  “in  five  years,”  — 
if  indeed  not  sooner.  0  Parlement  of  Paris,  what  a  clamor 
was  that !  “  Messieurs,”  said  old  D’Ormesson,  “  you  will  get 

States-General,  and  you  will  repent  it.”  Like  the  Horse  in 
the  Fable,  who,  to  be  avenged  of  his  enemy,  applied  to  the 
Man.  The  Man  mounted ;  did  swift  execution  on  the  enemy  ; 
but,  unhappily,  would  not  dismount !  Instead  of  five  years, 
let  three  years  pass,  and  this  clamorous  Parlement  shall  have 
both  seen  its  enemy  hurled  prostrate,  and  been  itself  ridden  to 
foundering  (say  rather,  jugulated  for  hide  and  shoes),  and  lie 
dead  in  the  ditch. 

Under  such  omens,  however,  we  have  reached  the  spring  of 
1788.  By  no  path  can  the  King’s  Government  find  passage  for 
itself,  but  is  everywhere  shamefully  flung  back.  Beleaguered 
by  Twelve  rebellious  Parlements,  which  are  grown  to  be  the 
organs  of  an  angry  Nation,  it  can  advance  no  whither ;  can 
accomplish  nothing,  obtain  nothing,  not  so  much  as  money 
to  subsist  on;  but  must  sit  there,  seemingly,  to  be  eaten  up 
of  Deficit. 

The  measure  of  the  Iniquity,  then,  of  the  Falsehood  'Which 
has  been  gathering  through  long  centuries,  is  nearly  full  ? 
At  least,  that  of  the  Misery  is !  From  the  hovels  of  the 
Twenty-five  Millions,  the  misery,  permeating  upwards  and 
forwards,  as  its  law  is,  has  got  so  far,  —  to  the  very  (Eil-de- 

1  Besenval,  iii.  317. 


Chap.  VII.  INTERNECINE.  95 

April. 

Boeuf  of  Versailles.  Man’s  hand,  in  this  blind  pain,  is  set 
against  man :  not  only  the  low  against  the  higher,  but  the 
higher  against  each  other ;  Provincial  Noblesse  is  bitter  against 
Court  Noblesse ;  Robe  against  Sword ;  Rochet  against  Pen. 
But  against  the  King’s  Government  who  is  not  bitter  ?  Not 
even  Besenval,  in  these  days.  To  it  all  men  and  bodies  of 
men  are  become  as  enemies ;  it  is  the  centre  whereon  infinite 
contentions  unite  and  clash.  What  new  universal  vertiginous 
movement  is  this ;  of  Institutions,  social  Arrangements,  in¬ 
dividual  Minds,  which  once  worked  co-operative ;  now  rolling 
and  grinding  in  distracted  collision  ?  Inevitable :  it  is  the 
breaking-up  of  a  World-Solecism,  worn  out  at  last,  down  even 
to  bankruptcy  of  money !  And  so  this  poor  Versailles  Court, 
as  the  chief  or  central  Solecism,  finds  all  the  other  Solecisms 
arrayed  against  it.  Most  natural !  For  your  human  Solecism, 
be  it  Person  or  Combination  of  Persons,  is  ever,  by  law  of 
Nature,  uneasy;  if  verging  towards  bankruptcy,  it  is  even 
miserable  :  —  and  when  would  the  meanest  Solecism  consent 
to  blame  or  amend  itself,  while  there  remained  another  to 
amend  ? 

These  threatening  signs  do  not  terrify  Lomenie,  much  less 
teach  him.  Lomenie,  though  of  light  nature,  is  not  without 
courage,  of  a  sort.  Nay,  have  we  not  read  of  lightest  crea¬ 
tures,  trained  Canary-birds,  that  could  fly  cheerfully  with 
lighted  matches,  and  fire  cannon;  fire  whole  powder-maga¬ 
zines  ?  To  sit  and  die  of  Deficit  is  no  part  of  Lomenie’s 
plan.  The  evil  is  considerable  ;  but  can  he  not  remove  it, 
can  he  not  attack  it  ?  At  lowest,  he  can  attack  the  symptom 
of  it :  these  rebellious  Parlements  he  can  attack,  and  perhaps 
remove.  Much  is  dim  to  Lomenie,  but  two  things  are  clear : 
that  such  Parlementary  duel  with  Royalty  is  growing  perilous, 
nay  internecine ;  above  all,  that  money  must  be  had.  Take 
thought,  brave  Lomenie ;  thou  Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon, 
who  hast  ideas  !  So  often  defeated,  balked  cruelly  when  the 
golden  fruit  seemed  within  clutch,  rally  for  one  other  strug¬ 
gle.  To  tame  the  Parlement,  to  fill  the  King’s  coffers  :  these 
are  now  life-and-death  questions. 

Parlements  have  been  tamed,  more  than  once.  Set  to  perch 


96  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1788. 

“  on  the  peaks  of  rocks  inaccessible  except  by  litters,”  a  Parle- 
ment  grows  reasonable.  0  Maupeou,  thou  bold  bad  man,  had 
we  left  thy  work  where  it  was  !  —  But  apart  from  exile,  or 
other  violent  methods,  is  there  not  one  method,  whereby  all 
things  are  tamed,  even  lions  ?  The  method  of  hunger  !  What 
if  the  Parlement’s  supplies  were  cut  off;  namely  its  Law¬ 
suits  ! 

Minor  Courts,  for  the  trying  of  innumerable  minor  causes, 
might  be  instituted:  these  we  could  call  Grand  Bailliages. 
Whereon  the  Parlement,  shortened  of  its  prey,  would  look 
with  yellow  despair;  but  the  Public,  fond  of  cheap  justice, 
with  favor  and  hope.  Then  for  Finance,  for  registering  of 
Edicts,  why  not,  from  our  own  (Eil-de-Boeuf  Dignitaries,  our 
Princes,  Dukes,  Marshals,  make  a  thing  we  could  call  Plenary 
Court ;  and  there,  so  to  speak,  do  our  registering  ourselves  ? 
Saint  Louis  had  his  Plenary  Court,  of  Great  Barons ; 1  most 
useful  to  him :  our  Great  Barons  are  still  here  (at  least  the 
Name  of  them  is  still  here) ;  our  necessity  is  greater  than 
his.  .  -•  p 

Such  is  the  Lomenie-Lamoignon  device ;  welcome  to  the 
King’s  Council,  as  a  light-beam  in  great  darkness.  The  device 
seems  feasible,  it  is  eminently  needful :  be  it  once  well  exe¬ 
cuted,  great  deliverance  is  wrought.  Silent,  then,  and  steady ; 
now  or  never!  —  the  World  shall  see  one  other  Historical 
Scene ;  and  so  singular  a  man  as  Lomenie  de  Brienne  still  the 
Stage-manager  there. 

Behold,  accordingly,  a  Home-Secretary  Breteuil  “  beautify¬ 
ing  Paris,”  in  the  peaceablest  manner,  in  this  hopeful  spring 
weather  of  1788 ;  the  old  hovels  and  hutches  disappearing 
from  our  Bridges :  as  if  for  the  State  too  there  were  halcyon 
weather,  and  nothing  to  do  but  beautify.  Parlement  seems 
to  sit  acknowledged  victor.  Brienne  says  nothing  of  Finance ; 
or  even  says,  and  prints,  that  it  is  all  well.  How  is  this ;  such 
halcyon  quiet ;  though  the  Successive  Loan  did  not  fill  ?  In 
a  victorious  Parlement,  Counsellor  Goeslard  de  Monsabert  even 
denounces  that  u  levying  of  the  Second  Twentieth  on  strict 
valuation;”  and  gets  decree  that  the  valuation  shall  not  be 

1  MontgaiUard,  i.  405. 


INTERNECINE. 


9T 


Chap.  VII. 

1788. 

strict,  —  not  on  the  Privileged  classes.  Nevertheless  Brienne 
endures  it,  launches  no  Lettre-de- Cachet  against  it.  How  is 
this  ? 

Smiling  is  such  vernal  weather ;  but  treacherous,  sudden ! 
For  one  thing,  we  hear  it  whispered,  “the  Intendants  of  Prov¬ 
inces  have  all  got  order  to  be  at  their  posts  on  a  certain  day.” 
Still  more  singular,  what  incessant  Printing  is  this  that  goes 
on  at  the  King’s  Chateau,  under  lock  and  key  ?  Sentries 
occupy  all  gates  and  windows ;  the  Printers  come  not  out ; 
they  sleep  in  their  workrooms ;  their  very  food  is  handed  in 
to  them  ! 1  A  victorious  Parlement  smells  new  danger.  D’Es- 
premenil  has  ordered  horses  to  Versailles  $  prowls  round  that 
guarded  Printing-Office ;  prying,  snuffing,  if  so  be  the  sagacity 
and  ingenuity  of  man  may  penetrate  it. 

To  a  shower  of  gold  most  things  are  penetrable.  D’Espre- 
menil  descends  on  the  lap  of  a  Printer’s  Danae,  in  the  shape 
of  “  five  hundred  louis  d’or :  ”  the  Danae’s  Husband  smuggles 
a  ball  of  clay  to  her ;  which  she  delivers  to  the  golden  Coun¬ 
sellor  of  Parlement.  Kneaded  within  it,  there  stick  printed 
proof-sheets  :  —  by  Heaven !  the  royal  Edict  of  that  same  self¬ 
registering  Plenary  Court;  of  those  Grand  Bailliages  that 
shall  cut  short  our  Lawsuits !  It  is  to  be  promulgated  over 
all  France  on  one  and  the  same  day. 

This,  then,  is  what  the  Intendants  were  bid  wait  for  at  their 
posts :  this  is  what  the  Court  sat  hatching,  as  its  accursed 
cockatrice-egg ;  and  would  not  stir,  though  provoked,  till  the 
brood  were  out !  Hie  with  it,  D’Espremenil,  home  to  Paris ; 
convoke  instantaneous  Sessions ;  let  the  Parlement,  and  the 
Earth,  and  the  Heavens  know  it. 

1  Weber,  i.  276. 


vol.  hi. 


7 


98 


THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


Book  III. 
1788. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
lomenie’s  death-throes. 

On  the  morrow,  which  is  the  3d  of  May,  1788,  an  astonished 
Parlement  sits  convoked ;  listens  speechless  to  the  speech 
of  D’Espremenil,  unfolding  the  infinite  misdeed.  Deed  of 
treachery ;  of  unhallowed  darkness,  such  as  Despotism  loves  ! 
Denounce  it,  0  Parlement  of  Paris ;  awaken  France  and  the 
Universe  ;  roll  what  thunder-barrels  of  forensic  eloquence  thou 
hast :  with  thee  too  it  is  verily  Now  or  never  ! 

The  Parlement  is  not  wanting,  at  such  juncture.  In  the 
hour  of  his  extreme  jeopardy,  the  lion  first  incites  himself  by 
roaring,  by  lashing  his  sides.  So  here  the  Parlement  of  Paris. 
On  the  motion  of  D’Espremenil,  a  most  patriotic  Oath,  of  the 
One-and-all  sort,  is  sworn,  with  united  throat ;  —  an  excellent 
new-idea,  which,  in  these  coming  years,  shall  not  remain  un¬ 
imitated.  Next  comes  indomitable  Declaration,  almost  of  the 
rights  of  man,  at  least  of  the  rights  of  Parlement ;  Invocation 
to  the  friends  of  French  Freedom,  in  this  and  in  subsequent 
time.  All  which,  or  the  essence  of  all  which,  is  brought  to 
paper ;  in  a  tone  wherein  something  of  plaintiveness  blends 
with,  and  tempers,  heroic  valor.  And  thus,  having  sounded 
the  storm-bell,  —  which  Paris  hears,  which  all  France  will 
hear ;  and  hurled  such  defiance  in  the  teeth  of  Lpmenie  and 
Despotism,  the  Parlement  retires  as  from  a  tolerable  first  day’s 
work. 

But  how  Lomenie  felt  to  see  his  cockatrice-egg  (so  essential 
to  the  salvation  of  France)  broken  in  this  premature  manner, 
let  readers  fancy !  Indignant  he  clutches  at  his  thunderbolts 
(i de  Cachet ,  of  the  Seal) ;  and  launches  two  of  them :  a  bolt 
for  D’Espremenil ;  a  bolt  for  that  busy  Goeslard,  whose  ser¬ 
vice  in  the  Second  Twentieth  and  u  strict  valuation  ”  is  not  for¬ 
gotten.  Such  bolts  clutched  promptly  overnight,  and  launched 


LOMENIE’S  DEATH-THROES. 


99 


Chap. 

May. 


VIII. 


with  the  early  new  morning,  shall  strike  agitated  Paris  if  not 
into  requiescence,  yet  into  wholesome  astonishment. 

Ministerial  thunderbolts  may  be  launched;  but  if  they  do 
not  hit  ?  D’Espremenil  and  Goeslard,  warned,  both  of  them, 
as  is  thought,  by  the  singing  of  some  friendly  bird,  elude  the 
Lomenie  Tipstaves ;  escape  disguised  through  sky-windows, 
over  roofs,  to  their  own  Palais  de  J ustice :  the  thunderbolts 
have  missed.  Paris  (for  the  buzz  flies  abroad)  is  struck  into 
astonishment  not  wholesome.  The  two  Martyrs  of  Liberty 
doff  their  disguises  ;  don  their  long  gowns :  behold,  in  the 
space  of  an  hour,  by  aid  of  ushers  and  swift  runners,  the 
Parlement,  with  its  Counsellors,  Presidents,  even  Peers,  sits 
anew  assembled.  The  assembled  Parlement  declares  that 
these  its  two  Martyrs  cannot  be  given  up,  to  any  sublunary 
authority ;  moreover  that  the  “  session  is  permanent,”  ad¬ 
mitting  of  no  adjournment,  till  pursuit  of  them  has  been  relin¬ 
quished. 

And  so,  with  forensic  eloquence,  denunciation  and  protest, 
with  couriers  going  and  returning,  the  Parlement,  in  this  state 
of  continual  explosion  that  shall  cease  neither  night  nor  day, 
waits  the  issue.  Awakened  Paris  once  more  inundates  those 
outer  courts ;  boils,  in  floods  wilder  than  ever,  through  all 
avenues.  Dissonant  hubbub  there  is ;  jargon  as  of  Babel,  in 
the  hour  when  they  were  first  smitten  (as  here)  with  mutual 
unintelligibility,  and  the  people  had  not  yet  dispersed ! 

Paris  City  goes  through  its  diurnal  epochs,  of  working  and 
slumbering ;  and  now,  for  the  second  time,  most  European 
and  African  mortals  are  asleep.  But  here,  in  this  Whirlpool 
of  Words,  sleep  falls  not ;  the  Night  spreads  her  coverlid  of 
Darkness  over  it  in  vain.  Within  is  the  sound  of  mere  martyr 
invincibility  ;  tempered  with  the  due  tone  of  plaintiveness. 
Without  is  the  infinite  expectant  hum,  —  growing  drowsier  a 
little.  So  has  it  lasted  for  six-and-thirty  hours. 

But  hark,  through  the  dead  of  midnight,  what  tramp  is  this  ? 
Tramp  as  of  armed  men,  foot  and  horse ;  Gardes  Franchises, 
Gardes  Suisses  :  marching  hither ;  in  silent  regularity  ;  in  the 
flare  of  torchlight !  There  are  Sappers  too,  with  axes  and 
crowbars  :  apparently,  if  the  doors  open  not,  they  will  be 


100  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1788. 

forced !  —  It  is  Captain  D’Agoust,  missioned  from  Versailles. 
D’Agoust,  a  man  of  known  firmness  ;  —  who  once  forced  Prince 
Conde  himself,  by  mere  incessant  looking  at  him,  to  give  satis¬ 
faction  and  fight : 1  he  now,  with  axes  and  torches,  is  advanc¬ 
ing  on  the  very  sanctuary  of  Justice.  Sacrilegious  ;  yet  what 
help  ?  The  man  is  a  soldier ;  looks  merely  at  his  orders ; 
impassive,  moves  forward  like  an  inanimate  engine. 

The  doors  open  on  summons,  there  need  no  axes  ;  door  after 
door.  And  now  the  innermost  door  opens ;  discloses  the  long- 
gowned  Senators  of  France :  a  hundred  and  sixty -seven  by 
tale,  seventeen  of  them  Peers ;  sitting  there,  majestic,  “  in 
permanent  session.”  Were  not  the  man  military,  and  of  cast- 
iron,  this  sight,  this  silence  re-echoing  the  clank  of  his  own 
boots,  might  stagger  him !  For  the  hundred  and  sixty-seven 
receive  him  in  perfect  silence ;  which  some  liken  to  that  of 
the  Roman  Senate  overfallen  by  Brennus ;  some  to  that  of  a 
nest  of  coiners  surprised  by  officers  of  the  Police.2  Messieurs , 
said  D’Agoust,  De  par  le  Roi!  Express  order  has  charged 
D’Agoust  with  the  sad  duty  of  arresting  two  individuals : 
M.  Duval  d’Espremenil  and  M.  Goeslard  de  Monsabe.rt.  Which 
respectable  individuals,  as  he  has  not  the  honor  of  knowing 
them,  are  hereby  invited,  in  the  King’s  name,  to  surrender 
themselves. — Profound  silence!  Buzz,  which  grows  a  mur¬ 
mur:  “We  are  all  D’Espremenils !”  ventures  a  voice ;  which 
other  voices  repeat.  The  President  inquires,  Whether  he  will 
employ  violence  ?  Captain  D’Agoust,  honored  with  his  Maj¬ 
esty’s  commission,  has  to  execute  his  Majesty’s  order ;  would 
so  gladly  do  it  without  violence,  will  in  any  case  do  it ;  grants 
an  august  Senate  space  to  deliberate  which  method  they  prefer. 
And  thereupon  D’Agoust,  with  grave  military  courtesy,  has 
withdrawn  for  the  moment. 

What  boots  it,  august  Senators  ?  All  avenues  are  closed 
with  fixed  bayonets.  Your  Courier  gallops  to  Versailles, 
through  the  dewy  Night ;  but  also  gallops  back  again,  with 
tidings  that  the  order  is  authentic,  that  it  is  irrevocable.  The 
outer  courts  simmer  with  idle  population ;  but  D’Agoust’s 
grenadier-ranks  stand  there  as  immovable  floodgates :  there 
1  Weber,  i.  283.  2  Besenval,  iii.  355. 


Chap.  VIII.  LOMENIE’S  DEATH-THROES.  101 

May. 

will  be  no  revolting  to  deliver  you.  “  Messieurs  !  ”  thus  spoke 
D’Espremenil,  “when  the  victorious  Gauls  entered  Home, 
which  they  had  carried  by  assault,  the  Roman  Senators, 
clothed  in  their  purple,  sat  there,  in  their  curule  chairs,  with 
a  proud  and  tranquil  countenance,  awaiting  slavery  or  death. 
Such  too  is  the  lofty  spectacle,  which  you,  in  this  hour,  offer 
to  the  universe  (a  Vunivers),  after  having  generously  ”  —  with 
much  more  of  the  like,  as  can  still  be  read.1 

In  vain,  0  D’Espremenil !  Here  is  this  cast-iron  Captain 
D’Agoust,  with  his  cast-iron  military  air,  come  back.  Despot¬ 
ism,  constraint,  destruction  sit  waving  in  his  plumes.  D’Es¬ 
premenil  must  fall  silent ;  heroically  give  himself  up,  lest 
worse  befall.  Him  Goeslard  heroically  imitates.  With  spoken 
and  speechless  emotion,  they  fling  themselves  into  the  arms 
of  their  Parlementary  brethren,  for  a  last  embrace:  and  so 
amid  plaudits  and  plaints,  from  a  hundred  and  sixty-five 
throats ;  amid  wavings,  sobbings,  a  whole  forest-sigh  of  Parle¬ 
mentary  pathos, —  they  are  led  through  winding  passages,  to 
the  rear-gate ;  where,  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  two  Coaches 
with  Exempts  stand  waiting.  There  must  the  victims  mount ; 
bayonets  menacing  behind.  D’Espremenil’ s  stern  question  to 
the  populace,  “  Whether  they  have  courage  ?  ”  is  answered, 
by  silence.  They  mount,  and  roll ;  and  neither  the  rising  of 
the  May  sun  (it  is  the  6th  morning),  nor  its  setting  shall 
lighten  their  heart :  but  they  fare  forward  continually;  D’Es¬ 
premenil  towards  the  utmost  Isles  of  Sainte  Marguerite,  or 
Hieres  (supposed  by  some,  if  that  is  any  comfort,  to  be  Ca¬ 
lypso’s  Island) ;  Goeslard  towards  the  land-fortress  of  Pierre- 
Mi-Cize,  extant  then,  near  the  City  of  Lyons. 

Captain  D’Agoust  may  now  therefore  look  forward  to  Major- 
ship,  to  Commandantship  of  the  Tuileries  ; 2  —  and  withal 
vanish  from  History;  where  nevertheless  he  has  been  fated 
to  do  a  notable  thing.  Eor  not  only  are  D’Espremenil  and 
Goeslard  safe  whirling  southward,  but  the  Parlement  itself 
has  straightway  to  march  out:  to  that  also  his  inexorable 
order  reaches.  Gathering  up  their  long  skirts,  they  file  out, 
the  whole  Hundred  and  Sixty-five  of  them,  through  two  rows 
1  Toulongeon,  i.  App.  20.  2  Montgaillard,  i.  404. 


102  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  HI. 

1788. 

of  unsympathetic  grenadiers  :  a  spectacle  to  gods  and  men. 
The  people  revolt  not ;  they  only  wonder  and  grumble :  also, 
we  remark,  these  unsympathetic  grenadiers  are  Gardes  Fran - 
Raises,  —  who,  one  day,  will  sympathize  !  In  a  word,  the  Palais 
de  Justice  is  swept  clear,  the  doors  of  it  are  locked ;  and 
D’Agoust  returns  to  Versailles  with  the  key  in-  his  pocket,  — 
having,  as  was  said,  merited  preferment. 

As  for  this  Parlement  of  Paris,  now  turned  out  to  the 
street,  we  will  without  reluctance  leave  it  there.  The  Beds 
of  Justice  it  had  to  undergo,  in  the  coming  fortnight,  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  in  registering,  or  rather  refusing  to  register,  those 
new-hatched  Edicts  j  and  how  it  assembled  in  taverns  and 
tap-rooms  there,  for  the  purpose  of  Protesting ; 1  or  hovered 
disconsolate,  with  outspread  skirts,  not  knowing  where  to 
assemble  ;  anfl  was  reduced  to  lodge  Protest  “  with  a  Notary  ;  ” 
and  in  the  end,  to  sit  still  (in  a  state  of  forced  “  vacation  ”), 
and  do  nothing :  all  this,  natural  now,  as  the  burying  of  the 
dead  after  battle,  shall  not  concern  us.  The  Parlement  of 
Paris  has  as  good  as  performed  its  part ;  doing  and  misdoing, 
so  far,  but  hardly  further,  could  it  stir  the  world. 

Lomenie  has  removed  the  evil,  then  ?  Not  at  all :  not  so 
much  as  the  symptom  of  the  evil ;  scarcely  the  twelfth  part  of 
the  symptom,  and  exasperated  the  other  eleven  !  The  Intern 
dants  of  Provinces,  the  military  Commandants  are  at  their 
posts,  on  the  appointed  8th  of  May :  but  in  no  Parlement, 
if  not  in  the  single  one  of  Douai,  can  these  new  Edicts  get 
registered.  Not  peaceable  signing  with  ink  ;  but  browbeating, 
bloodshedding,  appeal  to  primary  club-law  !  Against  these 
Bailliages,  against  this  Plenary  Court,  exasperated  Themis 
everywhere  shows  face  of  battle ;  the  Provincial  Noblesse 
are  of  her  party,  and  whoever  hates  Lomenie  and  the  evil 
time ;  with  her  Attorneys  and  Tipstaves,  she  eidists  and 
operates  down  even  to  the  populace.  At  Rennes  in  Brittany, 
where  the  historical  Bertrand  de  Moleville  is  Intendant,  it 
has  passed  from  fatal  continual  duelling,  between  the  military 
and  gentry,  to  street-fighting ;  to  stone-volleys  and  musket- 

1  Weber,  i.  299-303. 


Chap.  VIII.  LOMENIE’S  DEATH-THROES.  103 

May-July. 

shot :  and  still  the  Edicts  remain  unregistered.  The  afflicted 
Bretons  send  remonstrance  to  Lomenie,  by  a  Deputation  of 
Twelve  ;  whom,  however,  Lomenie,  having  heard  them,  shuts 
up  in  the  Bastille.  A  second  larger  Deputation  he  meets,  by 
his  scouts,  on  the  road,  and  persuades  or  frightens  back.  But 
now  a  third  largest  Deputation  is  indignantly  sent  by  many 
roads :  refused  audience  on  arriving,  it  meets  to  take  counsel ; 
invites  Lafayette  and  all  Patriot  Bretons  in  Paris  to  assist; 
agitates  itself ;  becomes  the  Breton  Club ,  first  germ  of  —  the 
Jacobins’  Society.1 

So  many  as  eight  Parlements  get  exiled  : 2  others  might 
need  that  remedy,  but  it  is  one  not  always  easy  of  appliance. 
At  Grenoble,  for  instance,  where  a  Mounier,  a  Barnave  have 
not  been  idle,  the  Parlement  had  due  order  (by  Lettres-de- 
Cachet )  to  depart,  and  exile  itself :  but  on  the  morrow,  instead 
of  coaches  getting  yoked,  the  alarm-bell  bursts  forth,  ominous  ; 
and  peals  and  booms  all  day  :  crowds  of  mountaineers  rush 
down,  with  axes,  even  with  firelocks,  —  whom  (most  ominous 
of  all !)  the  soldiery  shows  no  eagerness  to  deal  with.  “  Axe 
over  head,”  the  poor  General  has  to  sign  capitulation ;  to  en¬ 
gage  that  the  Lettres-de-  Cachet  shall  remain  unexecuted,  and  a 
beloved  Parlement  stay  where  it  is.  BesanQon,  Dijon,  Kouen, 
Bordeaux,  are  not  what  they  should  be  !  At  Pau  in  Bearn, 
where  the  old  Commandant  had  failed,  the  new  one  (a  Gram- 
mont,  native  to  them)  is  met  by  a  Procession  of  townsmen 
with  the  Cradle  of  Henri  Quatre,  the  Palladium  of  their  Town  ; 
is  conjured  as  he  venerates  this  old  Tortoise-shell,  in  which 
the  great  Henri  was  rocked,  not  to  trample  on  Bearnese  lib¬ 
erty  ;  is  informed,  withal,  that  his  Majesty’s  cannon  are  all 
safe  —  in  the  keeping  of  his  Majesty’s  faithful  Burghers  of 
Pau,  and  do  now  lie  pointed  on  the  walls  there ;  ready  for 
action  ! 8 

At  this  rate,  your  Grand  Bailliages  are  like  to  have  a  stormy 
infancy.  As  for  the  Plenary  Court,  it  has  literally  expired  in 
the  birth.  The  very  Courtiers  looked  shy  at  it ;  old  Marshal 

1  A.  F.  de  Bertrand-Moleville :  Memoires  Particuliers  (Paris,  1816),  i.  ch.  L 
Marmontel :  Memoires,  iv.  27. 

2  Montgaillard,  i.  308.  3  Besenval,  iii.  348. 


104  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1788. 

Broglie  declined  the  honor  of  sitting  therein.  Assaulted  by  a 
universal  storm  of  mingled  ridicule  and  execration,1  this  poor 
Plenary  Court  met  once,  and  never  any  second  time.  Dis¬ 
tracted  country  !  Contention  hisses  up,  with  forked  hydra- 
tongues,  wheresoever  poor  Lomenie  sets  his  foot.  “  Let  a 
Commandant,  a  Commissioner  of  the  King/’  says  Weber, 
“  enter  one  of  these  Parlements  to  have  an  Edict  registered, 
the  whole  Tribunal  will  disappear,  and  leave  the  Commandant 
alone  with  the  Clerk  and  First  President.  The  Edict  regis¬ 
tered  and  the  Commandant  gone,  the  whole  Tribunal  hastens 
back,  to  declare  such  registration  null.  The  highways  are 
covered  with  Grand  Deputations  of  Parlements,  proceeding 
to  Versailles,  to  have  their  registers  expunged  by  the  King’s 
hand;  or  returning  home,  to  cover  a  new  page  with  a  new 
resolution  still  more  audacious.”  2 

Such  is  the  France  of  this  year  1788.  Not  now  a  Golden 
or  Paper  Age  of  Hope  ;  with  its  horse-racings,  balloon-flyings, 
and  finer  sensibilities  of  the  heart :  ah,  gone  is  that ;  its 
golden  effulgence  paled,  bedarkened  in  this  singular  manner, 
—  brewing  towards  preternatural  weather!  For,  as  in  that 
wreck-storm  of  Paul  et  Virginie  and  Saint-Pierre,  — *“  One  hnge 
motionless  cloud  ”  (say,  of  Sorrow  and  Indignation)  “  girdles 
our  whole  horizon ;  streams  np,  hairy,  copper-edged,  over  a 
sky  of  the  color  of  lead.”  Motionless  itself ;  but  “  small 
clouds  ”  (as  exiled  Parlements  and  such  like),  “  parting  from 
it,  fly  over  the  zenith,  with  the  velocity  of  birds  :  ”  —  till  at 
last,  with  one  loud  howl,  the  whole  Four  Winds  be  dashed 
together,  and  all  the  world  exclaim,  There  is  the  tornado  ! 
Tout  le  monde  s’ecria,  Voila  Vouragan  ! 

For  the  rest,  in  such  circumstances,  the  Successive  Loan, 
very  naturally,  remains  unfilled ;  neither,  indeed,  can  that  im- 

1  La  Cour  Pleniere,  hero’i-tragi-comedie  en  trois  actes  et  en  prose ;  jouee  le 
14  Juillet  1788,  par  une  societe  d’amateurs  dans  un  Chateau  aux  environs  de 
Versailles;  par  M.  l’Abbe  de  Vermond,  Lecteur  de  la  Reine :  A  Baville 

amoignon’s  Country-house ),  et  se  trouve  a  Paris,  chez  la  Veuve  Liberte,  a 
l’enseigue  de  la  Revolution,  1788.  —  La  Passion,  la  Mort  et  la  Resurrection  du 
Peuple :  Imprime'  a  Jerusalem,  &c.,  &c.  —  See  Montgaillard,  i.  407. 

2  Weber,  i.  275. 


Chap.  YITI.  LOMENIE’S  DEATH-THROES.  105 

July- August. 

post  of  the  Second  Twentieth,  at  least  not  on  “  strict  valua¬ 
tion,”  be  levied  to  good  purpose:  “  Lenders,”  says  Weber,  in 
his  hysterical  vehement  manner,  “  are  afraid  of  ruin ;  tax- 
gatherers  of  hanging.”  The  very  Clergy  turn  away  their  face : 
convoked  in  Extraordinary  Assembly,  they  afford  no  gratui¬ 
tous  gift  ( don  gratuit),  —  if  it  be  not  that  of  advice ;  here  too 
instead  of  cash  is  clamor  for  States-General.1 

0  Lomenie-Brienne,  with  thy  poor  flimsy  mind  all  bewil¬ 
dered,  and  now  “  three  actual  cauteries  ”  on  thy  worn-out 
body ;  who  art  like  to  die  of  inflammation,  provocation,  milk- 
diet,  dartres  vives  and  maladie —  (best  untranslated)  ; 2  and  pre- 
sidest  over  a  Erance  with  innumerable  actual  cauteries,  which 
also  is  dying  of  inflammation  and  the  rest !  Was  it  wise  to 
quit  the  bosky  verdures  of  Brienne,  and  thy  new  ashlar  Cha¬ 
teau  there,  and  what  it  held,  for  this  ?  Soft  were  those  shades 
and  lawns ;  sweet  the  hymns  of  Poetasters,  the  blandishments 
of  liigh-rouged  Graces : 8  and  always  this  and  the  other  Phi- 
losophe  Morellet  (nothing  deeming  himself  or  thee  a  question¬ 
able  Sham-Priest)  could  be  so  happy  in  making  happy  :  —  and 
also  (hadst  thou  known  it),  in  the  Military  School  hard  by, 
there  sat,  studying  mathematics,  a  dusky-complexioned  taci¬ 
turn  Boy,  under  the  name  of :  Napoleon  Bonaparte  !  — 
With  fifty  years  of  effort,  and  one  final  dead-lift  struggle, 
thou  hast  made  an  exchange  !  Thou  hast  got  thy  robe  of 
office, — as  Hercules  had  his  Nessus’-shirt. 

On  the  13th  of  July  of  this  1788,  there  fell,  on  the  very 
edge  of  harvest,  the  most  frightful  hailstorm ;  scattering  into 
wild  waste  the  Emits  of  the  Year ;  which  had  otherwise  suf¬ 
fered  grievously  by  drought.  Eor  sixty  leagues  round  Paris 
especially,  the  ruin  was  almost  total.4  To  so  many  other 
evils,  then,  there  is  to  be  added,  that  of  dearth,  perhaps  of 
famine. 

Some  days  before  this  hailstorm,  on  the  5th  of  July ;  and 
still  more  decisively  some  days  after  it,  on  the  8th  of  August, 
—  Lomenie  announces  that  the  States-General  are  actually  to 
meet  in  the  following  month  of  May.  Till  after  which  period, 

1  Lameth  :  Assemb.  Const.  (Introd.)  p.  87.  2  Montgaillard,  i.  424.  - 

3  See  Memoir es  de  Morellet.  4  Marmontel,  iv.  30. 


106  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARTS.  Book  III. 

1788. 

this  of  the  Plenary  Court,  and  the  rest,  shall  remain  postponed. 
Further,  as  in  Lomenie  there  is  no  plan  of  forming  or  holding 
these  most  desirable  States-General,  “  thinkers  are  invited  ”  to 
furnish  him  with  one,  —  through  the  medium  of  discussion  by 
the  public  press ! 

What  could  a  poor  Minister  do  ?  There  are  still  ten  months 
of  respite  reserved :  a  sinking  pilot  will  fling  out  all  things, 
his  very  biscuit-bags,  lead,  log,  compass  and  quadrant,  before 
flinging  out  himself.  It  is  on  this  principle,  of  sinking,  and 
the  incipient  delirium  of  despair,  that  we  explain  likewise 
the  almost  miraculous  u  invitation  to  thinkers.”  Invitation  to 
Chaos  to  be  so  kind  as  build,  out  of  its  tumultuous  drift-wood, 
an  Ark  of  Escape  for  him !  In  these  cases,  not  invitation  but 
command  has  usually  proved  serviceable.  —  The  Queen  stood, 
that  evening,  pensive,  in  a  window,  with  her  face  turned 
towards  the  Garden.  The  Chef  de  Gobelet  had  followed  her 
with  an  obsequious  cup  of  coffee ;  and  then  retired  till  it  were 
sipped.  Her  Majesty  beckoned  Dame  Campan  to  approach: 
“  Grand  Dieu !  ”  murmured  she,  with  the  cup  in  her  hand, 
“  what  a  piece  of  news  will  be  made  public  to-day  !  The  King 
grants  States-General.”  Then  raising  her  eyes  to  Heaven 
(if  Campan  were  not  mistaken),  she  added  :  u  ’T  is  a  first 
beat  of  the  drum,  of  ill-omen  for  France.  This  Noblesse  will 
ruin  us.”  1 

During  all  that  hatching  of  the  Plenary  Court,  while 
Lamoignon  looked  so  mysterious,  Besenval  had  kept  asking 
him  one  question :  Whether  they  had  cash  ?  To  which  as 
Lamoignon  always  answered  (on  the  faith  of  Lomenie)  that 
the  cash  was  safe,  judicious  Besenval  rejoined  that  then  all 
was  safe.  Nevertheless,  the  melancholy  fact  is,  that  the  royal 
coffers  are  almost  getting  literally  void  of  coin.  Indeed,  apart 
from  all  other  things,  this  “  invitation  to  thinkers,”  and  the 
great  change  now  at  hand  are  enough  to  “  arrest  the  circula¬ 
tion  of  capital,”  and  forward  only  that  of  pamphlets.  A  few 
thousand  gold  louis  are  now  all  of  money  or  money’s  worth 
that  remains  in  the  King’s  Treasury.  With  another  movement 
as  of  desperation,  Lomenie  invites  Necker  to  come  and  be 

1  Campan,  iii.  104,  111. 


LOMENIE’S  DEATH-THROES. 


10T 


Chap.  VIII. 

August. 

Controller  of  Finances !  Necker  has  other  work  in  view  than 
controlling  Finances  for  Lomenie :  with  a  dry  refusal  he  stands 
taciturn ;  awaiting  his  time. 

What  shall  a  desperate  Prime  Minister  do  ?  He  has  grasped 
at  the  strong-box  of  the  King’s  Theatre  :  some  Lottery  had 
been  set  on  foot  for  those  sufferers  by  the  hailstorm ;  in  his 
extreme  necessity,  Lomenie  lays  hands  even  on  this.1  To 
make  provision  for  the  passing  day,  on  any  terms,  will  soon 
be  impossible.  —  On  the  16th  of  August,  poor  Weber  heard, 
at  Paris  and  Versailles,  hawkers,  “with  a  hoarse  stifled  tone 
of  voice  (voix  etouffee,  sourde),”  drawling  and  snuffling,  through 
the  streets,  an  Edict  concerning  Payments  (such  was  the  soft 
title  Rivarol  had  contrived  for  it)  :  all  Payments  at  the  Royal 
Treasury  shall  be  made  henceforth,  three-fifths  in  Cash,  and 
the  remaining  two-fifths — in  Paper  bearing  interest!  Poor 
Weber  almost  swooned  at  the  sound  of  these  cracked  voices, 
with  their  bodeful  raven-note  ;  and  will  never  forget  the  effect 
it  had  on  him.2 

But  the  effect  on  Paris,  on  the  world  generally  ?  From 
the  dens  of  Stock-brokerage,  from  the  heights  of  Political 
Economy,  of  Heckerism  and  Philosophism ;  from  all  articu¬ 
late  and  inarticulate  throats,  rise  hootings  and  howlings,  such 
as  ear  had  not  yet  heard.  Sedition  itself  may  be  immi¬ 
nent  !  Monseigneur  d’ Artois,  moved  by  Duchess  Polignac, 
feels  called  to  wait  upon  her  Majesty ;  and  explain  frankly 
what  crisis  matters  stand  in.  “  The  Queen  wept ;  ”  Brienne 
himself  wept ;  —  for  it  is  now  visible  and  palpable  that  he 
must  go. 

Remains  only  that  the  Court,  to  whom  his  manners  and 
garrulities  were  always  agreeable,  shall  make  his  fall  soft. 
The  grasping  old  man  has  already  got  his  Archbishopship 
of  Toulouse  exchanged  for  the  richer  one  of  Sens :  and  now, 
in  this  hour  of  pity,  he  shall  have  the  Coadjutorsliip  for  his 
nephew  (hardly  yet  of  due  age) ;  a  Dameship  of  the  Palace 
for  his  niece ;  a  Regiment  for  her  husband ;  for  himself  a  red 
Cardin al’s-hat,  a  Coupe  de  Bois  (cutting  from  the  royal  forests), 
and  on  the  whole  “  from  five  to  six  hundred  thousand  livres 
1  Besenval,  iii.  360.  2  Weber,  i.  339. 


108  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1788. 

of  revenue  :  ” 1  finally,  liis  Brother,  the  Comte  de  Brienne, 
shall  still  continue  War-minister.  Buckled  round  with  such 
bolsters  and  huge  feather-beds  of  Promotion,  let  him  now  fall 
as  soft  as  he  can ! 

And  so  Lomenie  departs :  rich  if  Court-titles  and  Money- 
bonds  can  enrich  him ;  but  if  these  cannot,  perhaps  the  poor¬ 
est  of  all  extant  men.  “  Hissed  at  by  the  people  of  Versailles,” 
he  drives  forth  to  Jardi ;  southward  to  Brienne,  —  for  recovery 
of  health.  Then  to  Nice,  to  Italy;  but  shall  return;  shall 
glide  to  and  fro,  tremulous,  faint-twinkling,  fallen  on  awful 
times  :  till  the  Guillotine  —  snuff  out  his  weak  existence  ? 
Alas,  worse :  for  it  is  blown  out,  or  choked  out,  foully,  pitia¬ 
bly,  on  the  way  to  the  Guillotine  !  In  his  Palace  of  Sens,  rude 
Jacobin  Bailiffs  made  him  drink  with  them  from  his  own 
wine-cellars,  feast  with  them  from  his  own  larder  ;  and  on  the 
morrow  morning,  the  miserable  old  man  lies  dead.  This  is 
the  end  of  Prime  Minister,  Cardinal  Archbishop  Lomenie  de 
Brienne.  Flimsier  mortal  was  seldom  fated  to  do  as  weighty 
a  mischief ;  to  have  a  life  as  despicable-envied,  an  exit  as 
frightful.  Fired,  as  the  phrase  is,  with  ambition :  blown, 
like  a  kindled  rag,  the  sport  of  winds,  not  this  way,  not  that 
way,  but  of  all  ways,  straight  towards  such  a  powder-mine, — 
which  he  kindled !  Let  us  pity  the  hapless  Lomenie ;  and 
forgive  him;  and,  as  soon  as  possible,  forget  him. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

•  '  ^ 

BURIAL  WITH  BONFIRE. 

Besenval,  during  these  extraordinary  operations,  of  Pay¬ 
ment  two-fifths  in  Paper,  and  change  of  Prime  Minister,  had 
been  out  on  a  tour  through  his  District  of  Command ;  and  in¬ 
deed,  for  the  last  months,  peacefully  drinking  the  waters  of 
Contrexeville.  Returning  now,  in  the  end  of  August,  towards 


1  Weber,  i.  341. 


Chap.  IX.  BURIAL  WITH  BONFIRE.  109 

August. 

Moulins,  and  “  knowing  nothing/’  he  arrives  one  evening  at 
Langres ;  finds  the  whole  Town  in  a  state  of  uproar  ( grande 
rumeur).  Doubtless  some  sedition ;  “a  thing  too  common  in 
these  days  !  He  alights  nevertheless  ;  inquires  of  a  “  man  tol¬ 
erably  dressed/’  what  the  matter  is  ? —  “  How  ?  ”  answers  the 
man,  “  you  have  not  heard  the  news  ?  The  Archbishop  is 
thrown  out,  and  M.  Necker  is  recalled ;  and  all  is  going  to  go 
well !  ” 1 

Such  rumeur  and  vociferous  acclaim  has  risen  round  M. 
Necker,  ever  frofti  “  that  day  when  he  issued  from  the  Queen’s 
Apartments,”  a  nominated  Minister.  It  was  on  the  24th  of 
August :  “  the  galleries  of  the  Chateau,  the  courts,  the  streets 
of  Versailles  ;  in  few  hours,  the  Capital ;  and,  as  the  news  flew, 
all  France  resounded  with  the  cry  of  Vive  le  Roi!  Vive  M. 
Necker !  ” 2  In  Paris  indeed  it  unfortunately  got  the  length 
of  “  turbulence.”  Petards,  rockets  go  off,  in  the  Place  Dau- 
phine,  more  than  enough.  A  “wicker  Figure  {Mannequin 
hosier ),”  in  Archbishop’s  stole,  made  emblematically,  three- 
fifths  of  it  satin,  two-fifths  of  it  paper,  is  promenaded,  not  in 
silence,  to  the  popular  judgment-bar ;  is  doomed ;  shriven  by 
a  mock  Abbe  de  Vermond ;  then  solemnly  consumed  by  fire, 
at  the  foot  of  Henri’s  Statue  on  the  Pont  Neuf  ;  — with  such 
petarding  and  huzzaing  that  Chevalier  Dubois  and  his  City- 
watch  see  good  finally  to  make  a  charge  (more  or  less  ineffect¬ 
ual)  ;  and  there  wanted  not  burning  of  sentry-boxes,  forcing 
of  guard-houses,  and  also  “  dead  bodies  thrown  into  the  Seine 
overnight,”  to  avoid  new  effervescence.3 

Parlements  therefore  shall  return  from  exile  :  Plenary 
Court,  Payment  two-fifths  in  Paper  have  vanished;  gone  oil 
in  smoke,  at  the  foot  of  Henri’s  Statue.  States-G-eneral  (with 
a  Political  Millennium)  are  now  certain ;  nay,  it  shall  be  an¬ 
nounced,  in  our  fond  haste,  for  January  next:  and  all,  as  the 
Langres  man  said,  is  “  going  to  go.” 

1  Besenval,  iii.  366.  2  Weber,  i.  342. 

3  Histoire  Parlementaire  de  la  Revolution  Frangaise  ;  ou  Journal  des  Assem¬ 
blies  Rationales  depuis  1789  (Paris,  1833  et  seqq.),  i.  253.  Lameth :  Assembled 
Constituante,  i.  (Introd.)  p.  89. 


110  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III. 

1788. 

To  the  prophetic  glance  of  Besenval,  one  other  thing  is  too 
apparent :  that  Friend  Lamoignon  cannot  keep  his  Keeper- 
ship.  Neither  he  nor  War-minister  Comte  de  Brienne  !  Al¬ 
ready  old  Foulon,  with  an  eye  to  be  war-minister  himself,  is 
making  underground  movements.  This  is  that  same  Foulon 
named  dme  damnee  du  Pay-lenient ;  a  man  grown  gray  in 
treachery,  in  griping,  projecting,  intriguing  and  iniquity :  who 
once  when  it  was  objected,  to  some  finance-scheme  of  his, 
“  What  will  the  people  do  ?  ”  —  made  answer,  in  the  fire  of  dis¬ 
cussion,  “  The  people  may  eat  grass  :  ”  hasty  words,  which  fly 
abroad  irrevocable,  — and  will  send  back  tidings  ! 

Foulon,  to  the  relief  of  the  world,  fails  on  this  occasion ; 
and  will  always  fail.  Nevertheless  it  steads  not  M.  de  La¬ 
moignon.  It  steads  not  the  doomed  man  that  he  have  in¬ 
terviews  with  the  King ;  and  be  “  seen  to  return  radieux 
emitting  rays.  Lamoignon  is  the  hated  of  Parlements  :  Comte 
de  Brienne  is  Brother  to  the  Cardinal  Archbishop.  The  24th 
of  August  has  been ;  and  the  14th  September  is  not  yet,  when 
they  two,  as  their  great  Principal  had  done,  descend,  —  made 
to  fall  soft,  like  him. 

And  now,  as  if  the  last  burden  had  been  rolled  from  its 
heart,  and  assurance  were  at  length  perfect,  Paris  bursts  forth 
anew  into  extreme  jubilee.  The  Basoche  rejoices  aloud,  that 
the  foe  of  Parlements  is  fallen;  Nobility,  Gentry,  Common¬ 
alty  have  rejoiced;  and  rejoice.  Nay  now,  with  new  empha¬ 
sis,  Rascality  itself,  starting  suddenly  from  its  dim  depths, 
will  arise  and  do  it,  —  for  down  even  thither  the  new  Political 
Evangel,  in  some  rude  version  or  other,  has  penetrated.  It  is 
Monday,  the  14tli  of  September,  1788 :  Rascality  assembles 
anew,  in  great  force,  in  the  Place  Dauphine ;  lets  off  petards, 
fires  blunderbusses,  to  an  incredible  extent,  without  interval, 
for  eighteen  hours.  There  is  again  a  wicker  Figure,  “  Manne¬ 
quin  of  osier  :  ”  the  centre  of  endless  howlings.  Also  Necker’s 
Portrait  snatched,  or  purchased,  from  some  Printshop,  is  borne 
processionally,  aloft  on  a  perch,  with  huzzas  ;  — an  example  to 
be  remembered. 

But  chiefly  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  where  the  Great  Henri,  in 


Chap.  IX.  BURIAL  WITH  BONFIRE.  Ill 

Sept.  14-16. 

bronze,  rides  sublime ;  there  do  the  crowds  gather.  All  pas¬ 
sengers  must  stop,  till  they  have  bowed  to  the  People’s  King, 
and  said  audibly  :  Vive  Henri  Quatre  ;  au  cliable  Lamoignon  ! 
No  carriage  but  must  stop  ;  not  even  that  of  his  Highness 
d’Orleans.  Your  coach-doors  are  opened :  Monsieur  will  please 
to  put  forth  his  head  and  bow  ;  or  even,  if  refractory,  to  alight 
altogether,  and  kneel :  from  Madame  a  wave  of  her  plumes,  a 
smile  of  her  fair  face,  there  where  she  sits,  shall  suffice :  — 
and  surely  a  coin  or  two  (to  buy  fusees )  were  not  unreason¬ 
able,  from  the  Upper  Classes,  friends  of  Liberty?  In  this 
manner  it  proceeds  for  days  ;  in  such  rude  horse-play,  —  not 
without  kicks.  The  City-watch  can  do  nothing ;  hardly  save 
its  own  skin :  for  the  last  twelvemonth,  as  we  have  some¬ 
times  seen,  it  has  been  a  kind  of  pastime  to  hunt  the  Watch. 
Besenval  indeed  is  at  hand  with  soldiers ;  but  they  have  orders 
to  avoid  firing,  and  are  not  prompt  to  stir. 

On  Monday  morning  the  explosion  of  petards  began:  and 
now  it  is  near  midnight  of  Wednesday  ;  and  the  “  wicker 
Mannequin  ”  is  to  be  buried,  —  apparently  in  the  Antique 
fashion.  Long  rows  of  torches,  following  it,  move  towards 
the  Hotel  Lamoignon;  but  “a  servant  of  mine”  (Besenval’ s) 
has  run  to  give  warning,  and  there  are  soldiers  come.  Gloomy 
Lamoignon  is  not  to  die  by  conflagration,  or  this  night ;  —  not 
yet  for  a  year,  and  then  by  gunshot  (suicidal  or  accidental  is 
unknown).1  Foiled  Rascality  burns  its  u  Mannikin  of  osier,” 
under  his  windows ;  u  tears  up  the  sentry-box,”  and  rolls  off : 
to  try  Brienne ;  to  try  Dubois  Captain  of  the  Watch.  Now, 
however,  all  is  bestirring  itself;  Gardes  Francises,  Invalides, 
Horse-patrol :  the  Torch  Procession  is  met  with  sharp  shot, 
with  the  thrusting  of  bayonets,  the  slashing  of  sabres.  Even 
Dubois  makes  a  charge,  with  that  Cavalry  of  his,  and  the 
cruelest  charge  of  all :  u  there  are  a  great  many  killed  and 
wounded.  ”  Not  without  clangor,  complaint  ;  subsequent 
criminal  trials,  and  official  persons  dying  of  heartbreak  ! 2  So, 
however,  with  steel  besom,  Rascality  is  brushed  back  into  its 
dim  depths,  and  the  streets  are  swept  clear. 

1  Histoire  de  la  Revolution,  par  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberte,  i.  50. 

2  lb.  p.  58. 


112  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS.  Book  III 

1788. 

Not  for  a  century  and  half  had  Rascality  ventured  to  step 
forth  in  this  fashion ;  not  for  so  long,  showed  its  huge  rude 
lineaments  in  the  light  of  day.  A  Wonder  and  new  Thing: 
as  yet  gambolling  merely,  in  awkward  Brobdignag  sport,  not 
without  quaintness ;  hardly  in  anger  :  yet  in  its  huge  half- 
vacant  laugh  lurks  a  shade  of  grimness,  — which  could  unfold 
itself  ! 

However,  the  thinkers  invited  by  Lom4nie  are  now  far  on 
with  their  pamphlets :  States-General,  on  one  plan  or  another, 
will  infallibly  meet ;  if  not  in  January,  as  was  once  hoped, 
yet  at  latest  in  May.  Old  Duke  de  Richelieu,  moribund  in 
these  autumn  days,  opens  his  eyes  once  more,  murmuring, 
“  What  would  Louis  Fourteenth  [whom  he  remembers]  have 
said !  ”  —  then  closes  them  again,  forever,  before  the  evil 
time. 


BOOK  IY. 

STATES-GENERAL. 


- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  NOTABLES  AGAIN. 

The  universal  prayer,  therefore,  is  to  be  fulfilled !  Always 
in  days  of  national  perplexity,  when  wrong  abounded  and 
help  was  not,  this  remedy  of  States-General  was  called  for ; 
by  a  Malesherbes,  nay  by  a  Penelon  ; 1  even  Parlements  calling 
for  it  were  “  escorted  with  blessings/’  And  now  behold  it  is 
vouchsafed  us  ;  States-General  shall  verily  be  ! 

To  say,  let  States-General  be,  was  easy  ;  to  say  in  what  man¬ 
ner  they  shall  be,  is  not  so  easy.  Since  the  year  1614,  there 
have  no  States-General  met  in  Prance,  all  trace  of  them  has 
vanished  from  the  living  habits  of  men.  Their  structure, 
powers,  methods  of  procedure,  which  were  never  in  any  meas¬ 
ure  fixed,  have  now  become  wholly  a  vague  possibility.  Clay 
which  the  potter  may  shape,  this  way  or  that :  — •  say  rather, 
the  twenty -five  millions  of  potters ;  for  so  many  have  now, 
more  or  less,  a  vote  in  it !  How  to  shape  the  States-General  ? 
There  is  a  problem.  Each  Body-corporate,  each  privileged, 
each  organized  Class  has  secret  hopes  of  its  own  in  that 
matter ;  and  also  secret  misgivings  of  its  own,  —  for,  behold, 
this  monstrous  twenty-million  Class,  hitherto  the  dumb  sheep 
which  these  others  had  to  agree  about  the  manner  of  shearing, 
is  now  also  arising  with  hopes !  It  has  ceased  or  is  ceasing 
to  be  dumb ;  it  speaks  through  Pamphlets,  or  at  least  brays 

1  Montgaillard,  i.  461. 

VOL.  III.  8 


114  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1788. 

and  growls  behind  them,  in  unison,  —  increasing  wonderfully 
their  volume  of  sound. 

As  for  the  Parlement  of  Paris,  it  has  at  once  declared  for 
the  “  old  form  of  1614.”  Which  form  had  this  advantage, 
that  the  Tiers  Etctt,  Third  Estate,  or  Commons,  figured  there 
as  a  show  mainly :  whereby  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy  had  but 
to  avoid  quarrel  between  themselves,  and  decide  unobstructed 
what  they  thought  best.  Such  was  the  clearly  declared  opinion 
of  the  Paris  Parlement.  But,  being  met  by  a  storm  of  mere 
hooting  and  howling  from  all  men,  such  opinion  was  blown 
straightway  to  the  winds ;  and  the  popularity  of  the  Parle¬ 
ment  along  with  it,  —  never  to  return.  The  Parlement’ s  part, 
we  said  above,  was  as  good  as  played.  Concerning'  which, 
however,  there  is  this  further  to  be  noted :  the  proximity  of 
dates.  It  was  on  the  22d  of  September  that  the  Parlement 
returned  from  “  vacation  ”  or  “  exile  in  its  estates ;  ”  to  be 
reinstalled  amid  boundless  jubilee  from  all  Paris.  Precisely 
next  day  it  was,  that  this  same  Parlement  came  to  its  u  clearly 
declared  opinion :  ”  and  then  on  the  morrow  after  that,  you 
behold  it  “  covered  with  outrages ;  ”  its  outer  court,  one  vast 
sibilation,  and  the  glory  departed  from  it  forevermore.1  A 
popularity  of  twenty-four  hours  was,  in  those  times,  no  un¬ 
common  allowance. 

On  the  other  hand,  how  superfluous  was  that  invitation  of 
Lomenie’s :  the  invitation  to  thinkers !  Thinkers  and  un¬ 
thinkers,  by  the  million,  are  spontaneously  at  their  post, 
doing  what  is  in  them.  Clubs  labor  :  Societe  Publicole  ;  Bre¬ 
ton  Club;  Enraged  Club,  Club  des  Enrayes.  Likewise  Din¬ 
ner-parties  in  the  Palais  Royal ;  your  Mirabeaus,  Talleyrands 
dining  there,  in  company  with  Chamforts,  Morellets,  with 
Duponts  and  hot  Parlementeers,  not  without  object !  For  a 
certain  Neckere an  Lion’s-provider,  whom  one  could  name, 
assembles  them  there;2 — or  even  their  own  private  determi¬ 
nation  to  have  dinner  does  it.  And  then  as  to  Pamphlets  — 
in  figurative  language,  “  it  is  a  sheer  snowing  of  pamphlets ; 
like  to  snow  up  the  Government  thoroughfares  !  ”  Now  is  the 
time  for  Friends  of  Freedom;  sane,  and  even  insane. 

1  Weber,  i.  347.  2  lb.  i.  360. 


Chap.  I.  THE  NOTABLES  AGAIN.  115 

Sept. -Oct. 

Count,  or  self-styled  Count,  d’Antraigues,  “  the  young  Lan- 
guedocian  gentleman/’  with  perhaps  Chamfort  the  Cynic  to 
help  him,  rises  into  furor  almost  Pythic ;  highest,  where  many 
are  high.1 2  Poolish  young  Languedocian  gentleman  ;  who  him¬ 
self  so  soon,  “emigrating  among  the  foremost,”  has  to  fly 
indignant  over  the  marches,  with  the  Contrat  Social  in  his 
pocket,  —  towards  outer  darkness,  thankless  intriguings,  ignis- 
fatuus  hoverings,  and  death  by  the  stiletto  !  Abbe  Sieyes  has 
left  Chartres  Cathedral,  and  canonry  and  book-shelves  there  ; 
has  let  his  tonsure  grow,  and  come  to  Paris  with  a  secular 
head,  of  the  most  irrefragable  sort,  to  ask  three  questions,  and 
answer  them:  What  is  the  Third  Estate?  All. —  What  has  it 
hitherto  been  in  our  form  of  government  ?  Nothing.  —  What 
does  it  want  ?  To  become  Something. 

D’ Orleans  —  for  be  sure  he,  on  his  way  to  Chaos,  is  in  the 
thick  of  this  —  promulgates  his  Deliberations ; 2  fathered  by 
him,  written  by  Laclos  of  the  Liaisons  Dangereuses.  The 
result  of  which  comes  out  simply :  The  Third  Estate  is  the 
Nation.”  On  the  other  hand,  Monseigneur  d’ Artois,  with 
other  Princes  of  the  Blood,  publishes,  in  solemn  Memorial  to 
the  King,  that  if  such  things  be  listened  to,  Privilege,  Nobil¬ 
ity,  Monarchy,  Church,  State  and  Strong-box  are  in  danger.3 
In  danger  truly  :  and  yet  if  you  do  not  listen,  are  they  out  of 
danger  ?  It  is  the  voice  of  all  France,  this  sound  that  rises. 
Immeasurable,  manifold  ;  as  the  sound  of  outbreaking  waters  : 
wise  were  he  who  knew  what  to  do  in  it,  — if  not  to  fly  to  the 

mountains,  and  hide  himself  ? 

•  ✓ 

How  an  ideal,  all-seeing  Versailles  Government,  sitting 
there  on  such  principles,  in  such  an  environment,  would  have 
determined  to  demean  itself  at  this  new  juncture,  may  even 
yet  be  a  question.  Such  a  Government  would  have  felt  too 
well  that  its  long  task  was  now  drawing  to  a  close  ;  that,  under 

1  Memoire  stir  les  Etats- Generaux.  See  Montgaillard,  i.  457-459. 

2  Deliberations  a  prendre  pour  les  Assemblies  des  EaiUiages. 

3  Me'moire  pre'sent e  an  T!oi,  par  Monseigneur  Comte  d’ Artois,  M.  le  Prince 
de  Conde',  M.  le  Due  de  Bourbon,  M.  le  Due  d’Enghien,  et  M.  le  Prince  de 
Conti.  (Given  in  Hist.  Pari.  i.  256.) 


116 


STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1788. 

the  guise  of  these  States-General,  at  length  inevitable,  a  new 
omnipotent  Unknown  of  Democracy  was  coming  into  being ; 
in  presence  of  which  no  Versailles  Government  either  could 
or  should,  except  in  a  provisory  character,  continue  extant. 
To  enact  which  provisory  character,  so  unspeakably  important, 
might  its  whole  faculties  but  have  sufficed ;  and  so  a  peaceable, 
gradual,  well-conducted  Abdication  and  Domine-dimittas  have 
been  the  issue ! 

This  for  our  ideal,  all-seeing  Versailles  Government.  But 
for  the  actual  irrational  Versailles  Government  ?  Alas,  that 
is  a  Government  existing  there  only  for  its  own  behoof :  with¬ 
out  right,  except  possession ;  and  now  also  without  might.  It 
foresees  nothing,  sees  nothing ;  has  not  so  much  as  a  purpose, 
but  has  only  purposes,  —  and  the  instinct  whereby  all  that 
exists  will  struggle  to  keep  existing.  Wholly  a  vortex;  in 
which  vain  counsels,  hallucinations,  falsehoods,  intrigues,  and 
imbecilities  whirl ;  like  withered  rubbish  in  the  meeting  of 
winds  !  The  OEil-de-Boeuf  has  its  irrational  hopes,  if  also  its 
fears.  Since  hitherto  all  States-General  have  done  as  good  as 
nothing,  why  should  these  do  more  ?  The  Commons,  indeed, 
look  dangerous ;  but  on  the  whole  is  not  revolt,  unknown  now 
for  five  generations,  an  impossibility  ?  The  Three  Estates 
can,  by  management,  be  set  against  each  other;  the  Third 
will,  as  heretofore,  join  with  the  King ;  will,  out  of  mere 
spite  and  self-interest,  be  eager  to  tax  and  vex  the  other 
two.  The  other  two  are  thus  delivered  bound  into  our  hands, 
that  we  may  fleece  them  likewise.  Whereupon,  money  being 
got,  and  the  Three  Estates  all  in  quarrel,  dismiss  them, 
and  let  the  future  go  as  it  can !  As  good  Archbishop  Lome- 
nie  was  wont  to  say :  “  There  are  so  many  accidents  ;  and 

it  needs  but  one  to  save  us.”  —  Yes  ;  and  how  many  to  destroy 
us  ? 

Poor  Keeker  in  the  midst  of  such  an  anarchy  does  what  is 
possible  for  him.  He  looks  into  it  with  obstinately  hopeful 
face  ;  lauds  the  known  rectitude  of  the  kingly  mind ;  listens 
indulgent-like  to  the  known  perverseness  of  the  queenly  and 
courtly  ;  —  emits  if  any  proclamation  or  regulation,  one  favor¬ 
ing  the  *  Tiers  Etat ;  but  settling  nothing ;  hovering  afar  off 


Chap.  I.  THE  NOTABLES  AGAIN.  117 

Nov. -Jan. 

rather,  and  advising  all  things  to  settle  themselves.  The 
grand  questions,  for  the  present,  have  got  reduced  to  two  : 
the  Double  Representation,  and  the  Vote  by  Head.  Shall  the 
Commons  have  a  “  double  representation,”  that  is  to  say, 
have  as  many  members  as  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy  united  ? 
Shall  the  States-General,  when  once  assembled,  vote  and  delib¬ 
erate,  in  one  body,  or  in  three  separate  bodies  ;  “  vote  by  head, 
or  vote  by  class,”  —  ordre  as  they  call  it  ?  These  are  the 
moot-points  now  filling  all  France  with  jargon,  logic  and 
eleutheromania.  To  terminate  which,  Necker  bethinks  him, 
Might  not  a  second  Convocation  of  the  Notables  be  fittest  ? 
Such  second  Convocation  is  resolved  on. 

On  the  6th  of  November  of  this  year  1788,  these  Notables 
accordingly  have  reassembled;  after  an  interval  of  some  • 
eighteen  months.  They  are  Calonne’s  old  Notables,  the  same 
Hundred  and  Forty-four, — to  show  one’s  impartiality;  like¬ 
wise  to  save  time.  They  sit  there  once  again,  in  their  Seven 
Bureaus,  in  the  hard  winter  weather  :  it  is  the  hardest  winter 
seen  since  1709 ;  thermometer  below  zero  of  Fahrenheit,  Seine 
River  frozen  over.1  Cold,  scarcity  and  eleutheromaniac  clam¬ 
or  :  a  changed  world  since  these  Notables  were  “  organed  out,” 
in  May  gone  a  year  !  They  shall  see  now  whether,  under  their 
Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood,  in  their  Seven  Bureaus,  they  can 
settle  the  moot-points. 

To  the  surprise  of  Patriotism,  these  Notables,  once  so 
patriotic,  seem  to  incline  the  wrong  way ;  towards  the  anti- 
patriotic  side.  They  stagger  at  the  Double  Representation, 
at  the  Vote  by  Head:  there  is  not  affirmative  decision;  there 
is  mere  debating,  and  that  not  with  the  best  aspects.  For, 
indeed,  were  not  these  Notables  themselves  mostly  of  the 
Privileged  Classes  ?  They  clamored  once ;  now  they  have 
their  misgivings;  make  their  dolorous  representations.  Let 
them  vanish,  ineffectual ;  and  return  no  more !  They  vanish, 
after  a  month’s  session,  on  this  12th  of  December,  year  1788 : 
the  last  terrestrial  Notables ;  not  to  reappear  any  other  time, 
in  the  History  of  the  World. 

And  so,  the  clamor  still  continuing,  and  the  Pamphlets  ; 

1  Marmontel :  Memoir es  (London,  1805),  iv.  3.3.  Hist.  Pari.  &c. 


118  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IY. 

1788. 

and  nothing  but  patriotic  Addresses,  louder  and  louder,  pour¬ 
ing  in  on  us  from  all  corners  of  France,  —  Necker  himself  some 
fortnight  after,  before  the  year  is  yet  done,  has  to  present  his 
Report;1  recommending  at  his  own  risk  that  same  Double 
Representation ;  nay  almost  enjoining  it,  so  loud  is  the  jargon 
and  eleutheromania.  What  dubitating,  what  circumambulat¬ 
ing  !  These  whole  six  noisy  months  (for  it  began  with  Brienne 
in  July),  has  not  Report  followed  Report,  and  one  Proclama¬ 
tion  flown  in  the  teeth  of  the  other  ? 2 

However,  that  first  moot-point,  as  we  see,  is  now  settled. 
As  for  the  second,  that  of  voting  by  Head  or  by  Order,  it 
unfortunately  is  still  left  hanging.  It  hangs  there,  we  may 
say,  between  the  Privileged  Orders  and  the  Unprivileged;  as 
a  ready-made  battle-prize,  and  necessity  of  war,  from  the  very 
first  :  which  battle-prize  whosoever  seizes  it  —  may  thenceforth 
bear  as  battle-flag,  with  the  best  omens  ! 

But  so,  at  least,  by  Royal  Edict  of  the  24th  of  January,3 
does  it  finally,  to  impatient  expectant  France,  become  not 
only  indubitable  that  National  Deputies  are  to  meet,  but  pos¬ 
sible  (so  far  and  hardly  farther  has  the  royal  Regulation  gone) 
to  begin  electing  them. 

■  ♦ 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  ELECTION. 

/  • 

Up,  then,  and  be  doing !  The  royal  signal-word  flies  through 
France,  as  through  vast  forests  the  rushing  of  a  mighty  wind. 
At  Parish  Churches,  in  Town-halls,  and  every  House  of  Con¬ 
vocation  ;  by  Bailliages,  by  Seneschalsies,  in  whatsoever  form 
men  convene;  there,  with  confusion  enough,  are  Primary 
Assemblies  forming.  To  elect  your  Electors ;  such  is  the 

1  Rapport  fait  au  Roi  dans  son  Conseil,  le  27  Decembre,  1788. 

2  5th  July;  8th  August ;  23d  September,  &c.  &c. 

3  Reglement  du  Roi  pour  le  Convocation  des  Etats-Generaux  a  Versailles.  (Re¬ 
printed,  wrong  dated,  in  Ilistoire  Parlementaire ,  i.  262.) 


Chap.  H.  THE  ELECTION.  119 

Jan. 

form  prescribed  :  then  to  draw  up  your  u  Writ  of  Plaints  and 
Grievances  ( Cahier  de  plaintes  et  doleances ),”  of  which  latter 
there  is  no  lack. 

With  such  virtue  works  this  Royal  January  Edict;  as  it 
rolls  rapidly,  in  its  leathern  mails,  along  these  frost-bound 
highways,  towards  all  the  four  winds.  Like  some  fiat ,  or 
magic  spell-word;  —  which  such  things  do  resemble!  For 
always,  as  it  sounds  out  “  at  the  market-cross,”  accompanied 
with  trumpet-blast;  presided  by  Bailli,  Seneschal,  or  other 
minor  Functionary,  with  beef-eaters  ;  or,  in  country  churches, 
is  droned  forth  after  sermon,  “  au  prone  des  messes paroissales 
and  is  registered,  posted  and  let  fly  over  all  the  world,  —  you 
behold  how  this  multitudinous  French  People,  so  long  sim¬ 
mering  and  buzzing  in  eager  expectancy,  begins  heaping  and 
shaping  itself  into  organic  groups.  Which  organic  groups, 
again,  hold  smaller  organic  grouplets  :  the  inarticulate  buzz¬ 
ing  becomes  articulate  speaking  and  acting.  By  Primary 
Assembly,  and  then  by  Secondary  ;  by  “  successive  elections,” 
and  infinite  elaboration  and  scrutiny,  according  to  prescribed 
process,  —  shall  the  genuine  “  Plaints  and  Grievances  ”  be  at 
length  got  to  paper;  shall  the  fit  National  Representative  be 
at  length  laid  hold  of. 

How  the.  whole  People  shakes  itself,  as  if  it  had  one  life; 
and,  in  thousand-voiced  rumor,  announces  that  it  is  awake, 
suddenly  out  of  long  death-sleep,  and  will  thenceforth  sleep 
no  more !  The  long-looked-for  has  come  at  last ;  wondrous 
news,  of  Victory,  Deliverance,  Enfranchisement,  sounds  magi¬ 
cal  through  every  heart.  To  the  proud  strong  man  it  has 
come  ;  whose  strong  hands  shall  no  more  be  gyved;  to  whom 
boundless  unconquered  continents  lie  disclosed.  The  weary 
day-drudge  has  heard  of  it ;  the  beggar  with  his  crust  moist¬ 
ened  in  tears.  What !  To  us  also  has  hope  reached ;  down 
even  to  us  ?  Hunger  and  hardship  are  not  to  be  eternal  ? 
The  bread  we  extorted  from  the  rugged  glebe,  and,  with  the 
toil  of  our  sinews,  reaped  and  ground,  and  kneaded  into 
loaves,  was  not  wholly  for  another,  then;  but  we  also  shall 
eat  of  it,  and  be  filled  ?  Glorious  news  (answer  the  prudent 
elders),  but  all  too  unlikely !  —  Thus,  at  any  rate,  may  the 


120  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

lower  people,  who  pay  no  money-taxes  and  have  no  right  to 
vote,1  assiduously  crowd  round  those  that  do ;  and  most 
Halls  of  Assembly,  within  doors  and  without,  seem  animated 
enough. 

Paris,  alone  of  Towns,  is  to  have  Representatives ;  the  num¬ 
ber  of  them  twenty.  Paris  is  divided  into  Sixty  Districts  ; 
each  of  which  (assembled  in  some  church,  or  the  like)  is  choos¬ 
ing  two  Electors.  Official  deputations  pass  from  District  to 
District,  for  all  is  inexperience  as  yet,  and  there  is  endless 
consulting.  The  streets  swarm  strangely  with  busy  crowds, 
pacific  yet  restless  and  loquacious ;  at  intervals,  is  seen  the 
gleam  of  military  muskets ;  especially  about  the  Palais,  where 
the  Parlement,  once  more  on  duty,  sits  querulous,  almost 
tremulous. 

Busy  is  the  French  world !  In  those  great  days,  what  poor¬ 
est  speculative  craftsman  but  will  leave  his  workshop ;  if  not 
to  vote,  yet  to  assist  in  voting  ?  On  all  highways  is  a  rustling 
and  bustling.  Over  the  wide  surface  of  France,  ever  and  anon, 
through  the  spring  months,  as  the  Sower  casts  his  corn  abroad 
upon  the  furrows,  sounds  of  congregating  and  dispersing;  of 
crowds  in  deliberation,  acclamation,  voting  by  ballot  and  by 
voice,  —  rise  discrepant  towards  the  ear  of  Heaven.  To  which 
political  phenomena  add  this  economical  one,  that  Trade  is 
stagnant,  and  also  Bread  getting  dear ;  for  before  the  rigorous 
winter  there  was,  as  we  said,  a  rigorous  summer,  with  drought, 
and  on  the  13th  of  J uly  with  destructive  hail.  What  a  fearful 
day !  all  cried  while  that  tempest  fell.  Alas,  the  next  anni¬ 
versary  of  it  will  be  a  worse.2  Under  such  aspects  is  France 
electing  National  Representatives. 

The  incidents  and  specialties  of  these  Elections  belong  not 
to  Universal,  but  to  Local  or  Parish  History :  for  which  reason 
let  not  the  new  troubles  of  Grenoble  or  Besan^on ;  the  blood¬ 
shed  on  the  streets  of  Rennes,  and  consequent  march  thither  of 
the  Breton  “  Young  Men”  with  Manifesto  by  their  “ Mothers, 
% 

1  Riglement  du  Roi  (in  Histoire  Parlemeniaire,  as  above,  i.  267-307). 

1  Bailly  :  Mdmoires,  i.  336. 


Chap.  II.  THE  ELECTION.  121 

.lan.-Feb. 

Sisters  and  Sweethearts ;  ” 1  nor  such  like,  detain  us  here.  It 
is  the  same  sad  history  everywhere  ;  with  superficial  variations. 
A  reinstated  Parlement  (as  at  BesanQon),  which  stands  aston¬ 
ished  at  this  Behemoth  of  a  States-General  it  had  itself  evoked, 
starts  forward,  with  more  or  less  audacity,  to  fix  a  thorn  in  its 
nose,  and,  alas,  is  instantaneously  struck  down,  and  hurled 
quite  out,  —  for  the  new  popular  force  can  use  not  only  argu¬ 
ments  but  brickbats !  Or  else,  and  perhaps  combined  with 
this,  it  is  an  order  of  Noblesse  (as  in  Brittany),  which  will 
beforehand  tie  up  the  Third  Estate,  that  it  harm  not  the  old 
privileges.  In  which  act  of  tying  up,  never  so  skilfully  set 
about,  there  is  likewise  no  possibility  of  prospering ;  but  the 
Behemoth-Briareus  snaps  your  cords  like  green  rushes.  Tie 
up  ?  Alas,  Messieurs  !  And  then,  as  for  your  chivalry  rapiers, 
valor  and  wager-of-battle,  think  one  moment,  how  can  that 
answer  ?  The  plebeian  heart  too  has  red  life  in  it,  which 
changes  not  to  paleness  at  glance  even  of  you ;  and  “  the  six 
hundred  Breton  gentlemen  assembled  in  arms,  for  seventy-two 
hours,  in  the  Cordeliers’  Cloister,  at  Rennes,”  —  have  to  come 
out  again,  wiser  than  they  entered.  For  the  Nantes  Youth, 
the  Angers  Youth,  all  Brittany  was  astir;  “ mothers,  sisters 
and  sweethearts  ”  shrieking  after  them,  March  !  The  Breton 
Noblesse  must  even  let  the  mad  world  have  its  way.2 

In  other  Provinces,  the  Noblesse,  with  equal  good-will,  finds 
it  better  to  stick  to  Protests,  to  well-redacted  u  Cahiers  of 
grievances,”  and  satirical  writings  and  speeches.  Such  is  par¬ 
tially  their  course  in  Provence  ;  whither  indeed  Gabriel  Honore 
Riquetti  Comte  de  Mirabeau  has  rushed  down  from  Paris,  to 
speak  a  word  in  season.  In  Provence,  the  Privileged,  backed 
by  their  Aix  Parlement,  discover  that  such  novelties,  enjoined 
though  they  be  by  Royal  Edict,  tend  to  National  detriment ; 
and  what  is  still  more  indisputable,  “  to  impair  the  dignity  of 

1  Protestation  et  Arrete  cles  Jeunes  Gens  de  la  Ville  de  Nantes,  du  28  Janvier, 
1789 ,avant  leur  depart  pour  Rennes.  Arret €  des  Jeunes  Gens  de  la  Ville  d’ Angers, 
du  4  Fierier,  1789.  Arret. €  des  Meres,  Sceurs,  Epouses  et  Amantes  des  Jeunes 
Citoyevs  d’ Angers,  du  6  F Verier,  1789.  (Reprinted  in  Histoire  Parlementaire, 
i.  290-293.) 

2  Hist.  Pari.  i.  287.  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberty,  i.  105-128. 


122  STATES-GENEEAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

the  Noblesse.”  Whereupon  Mirabeau  protesting  aloud,  this 
same  Noblesse,  amid  huge  tumult  within  doors  and  without, 
flatly  determines  to  expel  him  from  their  Assembly.  No 
other  method,  not  even  that  of  successive  duels,  would  answer 
with  him,  the  obstreperous  fierce-glaring  man.  Expelled  he 
accordingly  is. 

“  In  all  countries,  in  all  times,”  exclaims  he  departing,  “  the 
Aristocrats  have  implacably  pursued  every  friend  of  the  Peo¬ 
ple  ;  and  with  tenfold  implacability,  if  such  a  one  were  himself 
born  of  the  Aristocracy.  It  was  thus  that  the  last  of  the 
Gracchi  perished,  by  the  hands  of  the  Patricians.  But  he, 
being  struck  with  the  mortal  stab,  flung  dust  towards^  heaven, 
and  called  on  the  Avenging  Deities ;  and  from  this  dust  there 
was  born  Marius,  —  Marius  not  so  illustrious  for  exterminating 
the  Cimbri,  as  for  overturning  in  Pome  the  tyranny  of  the 
Nobles.” 1  Casting  up  which  new  curious  handful  of  dust 
(through  the  Printing-press),  to  breed  what  it  can  and  may, 
Mirabeau  stalks  forth  into  the  Third  Estate. 

That  he  now,  to  ingratiate  himself  with  this  Third  Estate, 
“  opened  a  cloth-shop  in  Marseilles,”  and  for  moments  became 
a  furnishing  tailor,  or  even  the  fable  that  he  did  so,  is  to  us 
always  among  the  pleasant  memorabilities  of  this  era.  Stran¬ 
ger  Clothier  never  wielded  the  ell-wand,  and  rent  webs  for 
men,  or  fractional  parts  of  men.  The  Fils  Adoptif  is  indignant 
at  such  disparaging  fable,2  —  which  nevertheless  was  widely 
believed  in  those  days.3  But  indeed,  if  Achilles,  in  the  heroic 
ages,  killed  mutton,  why  should  not  Mirabeau,  in  the  unheroic 
ones,  measure  broadcloth  ? 

More  authentic  are  his  triumph-progresses  through  that  dis¬ 
turbed  district,  with  mob  jubilee,  flaming  torches,  u  windows 
hired  for  two  louis,”  and  voluntary  guard  of  a  hundred  men. 
He  is  Deputy  Elect,  both  of  Aix  and  of  Marseilles ;  but  will 
prefer  Aix.  He  has  opened  his  far-sounding  voice,  the  depths 
of  his  far-sounding  soul ;  he  can  quell  (such  virtue  is  in  a 
spoken  word)  the  pride-tumults  of  the  rich,  the  hunger-tumults 

of  the  poor ;  and  wild  multitudes  move  under  him,  as  under  the 

« 

1  Fils  Adoptif,  v.  256.  2  Md moires  de  Mirabeau,  v.  307. 

8  Marat:  Ami-du- People  Newspaper  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire ,  ii.  103),  &c. 


THE  ELECTION. 


Chap.  II. 
Feb. -April. 


123 


moon  do  billows  of  the  sea :  he  has  become  a  world-compeller, 
and  ruler  over  men. 

One  other  incident  and  specialty  we  note ;  with  how  differ¬ 
ent  an  interest !  It  is  of  the  Parlement  of  Paris ;  which  starts 
forward,  like  the  others  (only  with  less  audacity,  seeing  better 
how  it  lay),  to  nose-ring  that  Behemoth  -of  a  States-General. 
Worthy  Doctor  Guillotin,  respectable  practitioner  in  Paris,  has 
drawn  up  his  little  “Plan  of  a  Cahier  of  doleances;  ” —  as  had 
he  not,  having  the  wish  and  gift,  the  clearest  liberty  to  do  ? 
He  is  getting  the  people  to  sign  it ;  whereupon  the  surly  Parle¬ 
ment  summons  him  to  give  account  of  himself.  He  goes ;  but 
with  all  Paris  at  his  heels  ;  which  floods  the  outer  courts,  and 
copiously  signs  the  Cahier  even  there,  while  the  Doctor  is 
giving  account  of  himself  within  !  The  Parlement  cannot  too 
soon  dismiss  Guillotin,  with  compliments ;  to  be  borne  home 
shoulder-high.1  This  respectable  Guillotin  we  hope  to  behold 
once  more,  and  perhaps  only  once ;  the  Parlement  not  even 
once,  but  let  it  be  engulfed  unseen  by  us. 

Meanwhile  such  things,  cheering  as  they  are,  tend*  little  to 
cheer  the  national  creditor,  or  indeed  the  creditor  of  any  kind. 
In  the  midst  of  universal  portentous  doubt,  what  certainty  can 
seem  so  certain  as  money  in  the  purse,  and  the  wisdom  of  keep¬ 
ing  it  there  ?  Trading  Speculation,  Commerce  of  all  kinds,  has 
as  far  as  possible  come  to  a  dead  pause  ;  and  the  hand  of  the 
industrious  lies  idle  in  his  bosom.  Frightful  enough,  when 
now  the  rigor  of  seasons  has  also  done  its  part,  and  to  scar¬ 
city  of  work  is  added  scarcity  of  food  !  In  the  opening  spring, 
there  come  rumors  of  forestalment,  there  come  King’s  Edicts, 
Petitions  of  bakers  against  millers ;  and  at  length,  in  the  month 
of  April,  —  troops  of  ragged  Eackalls,  and  fierce  cries  of  star¬ 
vation  !  These  are  the  thrice-famed  Brigands :  an  actual  ex¬ 
isting  quotity  of  persons ;  who,  long  reflected  and  reverberated 
through  s®  many  millions  of  heads,  as  in  concave  multiplying 
mirrors,  become  a  whole  Brigand  World ;  and,  like  a  kind  of 
Supernatural  Machinery,  wondrously  move  the  Epos  of  the 
Bevolution.  The  Brigands  are  here  ;  the  Brigands  are  there ; 
the  Brigands  are  coming!  Not  otherwise  sounded  the  clang 


1  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberty  i.  141. 


124  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

of  Phoebus  Apollo’s  silver  bow,  scattering  pestilence  and  pale 
terror :  for  this  clang  too  was  of  the  imagination ;  preter¬ 
natural  ;  and  it  too  walked  in  formless  immeasurability,  having 
made  itself  like  to  the  Night  (vvktl  coikojs)  ! 

But  remark  at  least,  for  the  first  time,  the  singular  empire 
of  Suspicion,  in  those  lands,  in  those  days.  If  poor  famishing 
men  shall,  prior  to  death,  gather  in  groups  and  crowds,  as  the 
poor  fieldfares  and  plovers  do  in  bitter  weather,  were  it  but 
that  they  may  chirp  mournfully  together,  and  misery  look  in 
the  eyes  of  misery;  if  famishing  men  (what  famishing  field¬ 
fares  cannot  do)  should  discover,  once  congregated,  that  they 
need  not  die  while  food  is  in  the  land,  since  they  ar$  nlany, 
and  with  empty  wallets  have  right  hands :  in  all  this,  what 
need  were  there  of  Preternatural  Machinery  ?  To  most  peo¬ 
ple  none ;  but  not  to  French  people,  in  a  time  of  Revolution. 
These  Brigands  (as  Turgot’s  also  were,  fourteen  years  ago) 
have  all  been  set  on ;  enlisted,  though  without  tap  of  drum, 
—  by  Aristocrats,  by  Democrats,  by  D’Orleans,  D’Artois,  and 
enemies  of  the  public  weal.  1ST a y  Historians,  to  this  day,  will 
prove  it  by  one  argument :  these  Brigands,  pretending  to  have 
no  victual,  nevertheless  contrive  to  drink,  nay  have  been  seen 
drunk.1  An  unexampled  fact !  But  on  the  whole,  may  we  not 
predict  that  a  people,  with  such  a  width  of  Credulity  and  of 
Incredulity  (the  proper  union  of  which  makes  Suspicion,  and 
indeed  unreason  generally),  will  see  Shapes  enough  of  Immor¬ 
tals  fighting  in  its  battle-ranks,  and  never  want  for  Epical 
Machinery  ? 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Brigands  are  clearly  got  to  Paris,  in 
considerable  multitudes  : 2  with  sallow  faces,  lank  hair  (the  true 
enthusiast  complexion),  with  sooty  rags ;  and  also  with  large 
clubs,  which  they  smite  angrily  against  the  pavement !  These 
mingle  in  the  Election  tumult;  would  fain  sign  Guillotin’s 
Cahier,  or  any  Cahier  or  Petition  whatsoever,  could,  they  but 
write.  Their  enthusiast  complexion,  the  smiting  of  their 
sticks  bodes  little  good  to  any  one ;  least  of  all  to  rich  master- 
manufacturers  of  the  Suburb  Saint- Antoine,  with  whose  work¬ 
men  they  consort. 

1  Lacretelle  :  18"“  Siecle,  ii.  155. 


2  Besenval,  iii.  385,  &c. 


Chap.  III. 
April  27-28. 


GROWN  ELECTRIC. 


125 


CHAPTER  III. 

GROWN  ELECTRIC. 

But  now  also  National  Deputies  from  all  ends  of  France  are 
in  Paris,  with,  their  commissions,  what  they  call  pouvoirs,  or 
powers,  in  their  pockets ;  inquiring,  consulting ;  looking  out 
for  lodgings  at  Versailles.  The  States-General  shall  open 
there,  if  not  on  the  First,  then  surely  on  the  Fourth  of  May ; 
in  grand  procession  and  gala.  The  Salle  des  Menus  is  all  new- 
carpentered,  bedizened  for  them  ;  their  very  costume  has  been 
fixed  :  a  grand  controversy  which  there  was,  as  to  “  slouch-hats 
or  slouched-hats,”  for  the  Commons  Deputies,  has  got  as  good 
as  adjusted.  Ever  new  strangers  arrive :  loungers,  miscella¬ 
neous  persons,  officers  on  furlough,  —  as  the  worthy  Captain 
Dampmartin,  whom  we  hope  to  be  acquainted  with :  these 
also,  from  all  regions,  have  repaired  hither,  to  see  what  is 
toward.  Our  Paris  Committees,  of  the  Sixty  Districts,  are 
busier  than  ever  ;  it  is  now  too  clear,  the  Paris  Elections  will 
be  late. 

On  Monday,  the  27th  day  of  April,  Astronomer  Bailly  no¬ 
tices  that  the  Sieur  Reveillon  is  not  at  his  post.  The  Sieur 
Reveillon,  “  extensive  Paper  Manufacturer  of  the  Rue  Saint- 
Antoine  :  he,  commonly  so  punctual,  is  absent  from  Electoral 
Committee  ;  —  and  even  will  never  reappear  there.  In  those 
“  immense  Magazines  of  velvet  paper  ”  has  aught  befallen  ? 
Alas,  yes  !  Alas,  it  is  no  Montgolfier  rising  there  to-day  ;  but 
Drudgery,  Rascality  and  the  Suburb  that  is  rising!  Was  the 
Sieur  Reveillon,  himself  once  a  journeyman,  heard  to  say  that 
“a  journeyman  might  live  handsomely  on  fifteen  sous  a  day  ”  ? 
Some  sevenpence  halfpenny :  Jt  is  a  slender  sum  !  Or  was  he 
only  thought,  and  believed,  to  be  heard  saying  it  ?  By  this 


126 


STATES-GENERAL. 


Book  IV. 
1789. 


long  chafing  and  friction,  it  would  appear,  the  National  temper 

has  got  electric. 

Down  in  those  dark  dens,  in  those  dark  heads  and  hungry 
hearts,  who  knows  in  what  strange  figure  the  new  Political 
Evangel  may  have  shaped  itself ;  what  miraculous  “  Com¬ 
munion  of  Drudges  ”  may  be  getting  formed !  Enough :  grim 
individuals,  soon  waxing  to  grim  multitudes,  and  other  multi¬ 
tudes  crowding  to  see,  be^et  that  Paper-Warehouse ;  demon¬ 
strate,  in  loud  ungrammatical  language  (addressed  to  the 
passions  too),  the  insufficiency  of  sevenpence  halfpenny  a  day. 
The  City-watch  cannot  dissipate  them ;  broils  arise  and  bel- 
lowings :  Reveillon,  at  his  wits’  end,  entreats  the  Populace, 
entreats  the  Authorities.  Besenval,  now  in  active  command, 
Commandant  of  Paris,  does,  towards  evening,  to  Reveillon’s 
earnest  prayer,  send  some  thirty  Gardes  Franchises.  These 
clear  the  street,  happily  without  firing;  and  take  post  there 
for  the  night,  in  hope  that  it  may  be  all  over.1 

Not  so  :  on  the  morrow  it  is  far  worse.  Saint-Antoine  has 
arisen  anew,  grimmer  than  ever  ;  —  reinforced  by  the  unknown 
Tatterdemalion  Figures,  with  their  enthusiast  complexion  and 
large  .sticks.  The  City,  through  all  streets,  is  flowing  thither¬ 
ward  to  see:  “two  cartloads  of  paving-stones,  that  happened 
to  pass  that  way,”  have  been  seized  as  a  visible  godsend. 
Another  detachment  of  Gardes  Franchises  must  be  sent ; 
Besenval  and  the  Colonel  taking  earnest  counsel.  Then  still 
another;  they  hardly,  with  bayonets  and  menace  of  bullets, 
penetrate  to  the  spot.  What  a  sight !  A  street  choked  up, 
with  lumber,  tumult  and  the  endless  press  of  men.  A  Paper- 
Warehouse  eviscerated  by  axe  and  fire :  mad  din  of  Revolt ; 
musket-volleys  responded  to  by  yells,  by  miscellaneous  mis¬ 
siles,  by  tiles  raining  from  roof  and  window,  —  tiles,  execra¬ 
tions  and  slain  men ! 

The  Gardes  Franchises  like  it  not,  but  have  to  persevere. 
All  day  it  continues,  slackening  and  rallying ;  the  sun  is  sink¬ 
ing,  and  Saint-Antoine  has  not  yielded.  The  City  flies  hither 
and  thither :  alas,  the  sound  of  that  musket-volleying  booms 
into  the  far  dining-rooms  of  the  Chaussee  d’Antin ;  alters  the 

1  Besenval,  iii.  385-388. 


GROWN  ELECTRIC. 


127 


Chap.  III. 
April  28. 


tone  of  the  dinner-gossip  there.  Captain  Dampmartin  leaves 
his  wine ;  goes  out  with  a  friend  or  two,  to  see  the  fighting. 
Unwashed  men  growl  on  him,  with  murmurs  of  “Abas  les 
Aristocrates  (Down  with  the  Aristocrats)  ;  ”  and  insult  the 
cross  of  St.  Louis !  They  elbow  him,  and  hustle  him ;  but 
do  not  pick  his  pocket;  —  as  indeed  at  Reveillon’s  too  there 
was  not  the  slightest  stealing.1 

At  fall  of  night,  as  the  thing  will  not  end,  Besenval  takes 
his  resolution :  orders  out  the  Gardes  iSuisses  with  two  pieces 
of  artillery.  The  Swiss  Guards  shall  proceed  thither  ;  sum¬ 
mon  that  rabble  to  depart,  in  the  King’s  name.  If  disobeyed, 
they  shall  load  their  artillery  with  grape-shot,  visibly  to  the 
general  eye  ;  shall  again  summon  ;  if  again  disobeyed,  fire,  — 
and  keep  firing  “till  the  last  man”  be  in  this  manner  blasted 
off,  and  the  street  clear.  With  which  spirited  resolution,  as 
might  have  been  hoped,  the  business  is  got  ended.  At  sight 
of  the  lit  matches,  of  the  foreign  red-coated  Switzers,  Saint- 
Antoine  dissipates ;  hastily,  in  the  shades  of  dusk.  There  is 
an  encumbered  street ;  there  are  “  from  four  to  five  hundred  ” 
dead  men.  Unfortunate  Reveillon  has  found  shelter  in  the 
Bastille ;  does  therefrom,  safe  behind  stone  bulwarks,  issue 
plaint,  protestation,  explanation,  for  the  next  month.  Bold 
Besenval  has  thanks  from  all  the  respectable  Parisian  classes ; 
but  finds  no  special  notice  taken  of  him  at  Versailles,  —  a 
thing  the  man  of  true  worth  is  used  to.2 


But  how  it  originated,  this  fierce  electric  sputter  and  explo¬ 
sion  ?  From  D’Orleans !  cries  the  Court-party :  he,  with  his 
gold,  enlisted  these  Brigands,  —  surely  in  some  surprising 
manner,  without  sound  of  drum:  he  raked  them  in  hither, 
from  all  corners ;  to  ferment  and  take  fire ;  evil  is  his  good. 
From  the  Court !  cries  enlightened  Patriotism :  it  is  the  cursed 
gold  and  wiles  of  Aristocrats  that  enlisted  them ;  set  them 
upon  ruining  an  innocent  Sieur  Reveillon ;  to  frighten  the 
faint,  and  disgust  men  with  the  career  of  Freedom. 

1  Evenemens  qui  se  sont  passes  sous  mes  yeux  pendant  la  Revolution  Franqaise, 
par  A.  H.  Dampmartin  ^Berlin,  1799),  i.  25-27. 

2  Besenval,  iii.  389. 


128  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

Besenval,  with  reluctance,  concludes  that  it  came  from  “  the 
English,  our  natural  enemies.”  Or,  alas,  might  not  one  rather 
attribute  it  to  Diana  in  the  shape  of  Hunger  ?  To  some  twin 
Dioscuri,  Oppression  and  Revenge;  so  often  seen  in  the 
battles  of  men?  Poor  Lackalls,  all  betoiled,  besoiled,  en¬ 
crusted  into  dim  defacement;  —  into  whom  nevertheless  the 
breath  of  the  Almighty  has  breathed  a  living  soul !  To  them 
it  is  clear  only  that  eleutheromaniac  Philosophism  has  yet 
baked  no  bread;  that  Patriot  Committee-men  will  level  down 
to  their  own  level,  and  no  lower.  Brigands  or  whatever  they 
might  be,  it  was  bitter  earnest  with  them.  They  bury  their 
dead  with  the  title  of  Defenseurs  de  la  Patrie,  Martyrs  of  the 
good  Cause. 

Or  shall  we  say :  Insurrection  has  now  served  its  Appren¬ 
ticeship  ;  and  this  was  its  proof-stroke,  and  no  inconclusive 
one  ?  Its  next  will  be  a  master-stroke ;  announcing  indis¬ 
putable  Mastership  to  a  whole  astonished  world.  Let  that 
rock-fortress,  Tyranny’s  stronghold,  which  they  name  Bas¬ 
tille,  or  Building,  as  if  there  were  no  other  building,  —  look 
to  its  guns ! 

But,  in  such  wise,  with  primary  and  secondary  Assemblies, 
and  Cahiers  of  Grievances ;  with  motions,  congregations  of 
all  kinds ;  with  much  thunder  of  froth-eloquence,  and  at  last 
with  thunder  of  platoon-musketry,  —  does  agitated  Prance 
accomplish  its  Elections.  With  confused  winnowing  and 
sifting,  in  this  rather  tumultuous  manner,  it  has  now  (all 
except  some  remnants  of  Paris)  sifted  out  the  true  wheat- 
grains  of  National  Deputies,  Twelve  Hundred  and  Fourteen 
in  number ;  and  will  forthwith  open  its  States-General. 


Chap.  IV. 
May  4. 


THE  PROCESSION. 


129 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  PROCESSION. 

On  the  first  Saturday  of  May,  it  is  gala  at  Versailles  ;  and 
Monday,  fourth  of  the  month,  is  to  be  a  still  greater  day.  The 
Deputies  have  mostly  got  thither,  and  sought  out  lodgings ; 
and  are  now  successively,  in  long  well-ushered  files,  kissing 
the  hand  of  Majesty  in  the  Chateau.  Supreme  Usher  de 
Breze  does  not  give  the  highest  satisfaction :  we  cannot  but 
observe  that  in  ushering  Noblesse  or  Clergy  into  the  anointed 
Presence,  he  liberally  opens  both  his  folding-doors  ;  and  on 
the  other  hand,  for  members  of  the  Third  Estate  opens  only 
one!  However,  there  is  room  to  enter;  Majesty  has  smiles 
for  all. 

The  good  Louis  welcomes  his  Honorable  Members,  with 
smiles  of  hope.  He  has  prepared  for  them  the  Hall  of  Menus , 
the  largest  near  him ;  and  often  surveyed  the  workmen  as 
they  went  on.  A  spacious  Hall  :  with  raised  platform  for 
Throne,  Court  and  Blood-royal ;  space  for  six  hundred  Com¬ 
mons  Deputies  in  front  ;  for  half  as  many  Clergy  on  this 
hand,  and  half  as  many  Noblesse  on  that.  It  has  lofty  gal¬ 
leries  ;  wherefrom  dames  of  honor,  splendent  in  gaze  d’or  ; 
foreign  Diplomacies,  and  other  gilt-edged  white-frilled  indi¬ 
viduals,  to  the  number  of  two  thousand,  —  may  sit  and  look. 
Broad  passages  flow  through  it ;  and,  outside  the  inner  wall, 
all  round  it.  There  are  committee-rooms,  guard-rooms,  robing- 
rooms  :  really  a  noble  Hall ;  where  upholstery,  aided  by  the 
subject  fine-arts,  has  done  its  best;  and  crimson  tasselled  cloths, 
and  emblematic  fieurs-de-lys  are  not  wanting. 

The  Hall  is  ready :  the  very  costume,  as  we  said,  has  been 
settled ;  and  the  Commons  are  not  to  wear  that  hated  slouch- 
hat  ( chapeau  clabaud ),  but  one  not  quite  so  slouched  (chapeau 
rabattu).  As  for  their  manner  of  working ,  when  all  dressed; 

VOL.  in.  9 


130 


STATES-GENERAL. 


Book  IV. 
1789. 


for  their  “  voting  by  head  or  by  order  ”  and  the  rest,  —  this, 
which  it  were  perhaps  still  time  to  settle,  and  in  few  hours 
will  be  no  longer  time,  remains  unsettled ;  hangs  dubious  in 
the  breast  of  Twelve  Hundred  men. 


But  now  finally  the  Sun,  on  Monday  the  4th  of  May,  has 
risen ;  —  unconcerned,  as  if  it  were  no  special  day.  And  yet, 
as  his  first  rays  could  strike  music  from  the  Memnon’s  Statue 
on  the  Nile,  what  tones  were  these,  so  thrilling,  tremulous,  of 
preparation  and  foreboding,  which  he  awoke  in  every  bosom 
at  Versailles  !  Huge  Paris,  in  all  conceivable  and  inconceiv¬ 
able  vehicles,  is  pouring  itself  forth  ;  from  each  Town  and 
Village  come  subsidiary  rills  :  Versailles  is  a  very  sea  of  men. 
But  above  all,  from  the  Church  of  St.  Louis  to  the  Church  of 
Notre-Dame  :  one  vast  suspended  billow  of  life,  —  with  spray 
scattered  even  to  the  chimney-tops !  For  on  chimney-tops  too, 
as  over  the  roofs,  and  up  thitherwards  on  every  lamp-iron, 
signpost,  breakneck  coign  of  vantage,  sits  patriotic  Courage; 
and  every  window  bursts  with  patriotic  Beauty :  for  the  Depu¬ 
ties  are  gathering  at  St.  Louis  Church ;  to  march  in  procession 
to  Notre-Dame,  and  hear  sermon. 

Yes,  friends,  ye  may  sit  and  look :  bodily  or  in  thought,  all 
France,  and  all  Europe,  may  sit  and  look  ;  for  it  is  a  day  like 
few  others.  Oh,  one  might  weep  like  Xerxes  :  —  So  many 
serried  rows  sit  perched  there ;  like  winged  creatures,  alighted 
out  of  Heaven  :  all  these,  and  so  many  more  that  follow  them, 
shall  have  wholly  fled  aloft  again,  vanishing  into  the  blue 
Deep ;  and  the  memory  of  this  day  still  be  fresh.  It  is  the 
baptism-day  of  Democracy ;  sick  Time  has  given  it  birth,  the 
numbered  months  being  run.  The  extreme-unction  day  of 
Feudalism  !  A  superannuated  System  of  Society,  decrepit 
with  toils  (for  has  it  not  done  much  ;  produced  you ,  and  what 
ye  have  and  know  !)  —  and  with  thefts  and  brawls,  named 
glorious  victories ;  and  with  profligacies,  sensualities,  and  on 
the  whole  with  dotage  and  senility,  —  is  now  to  die :  and  so, 
with  death-throes  and  birth-throes,  a  new  one  is  to  be  born. 
What  a  work,  0  Earth  and  Heavens,  what  a  work !  Battles 
and  bloodshed,  September  Massacres,  Bridges  of  Lodi,  retreats 


Chap.  IV.  THE  PROCESSION.  131 

May  4. 

of  Moscow,  Waterloos,  Peterloos,  Tenpound  Franchises,  Tar- 
barrels  and  Guillotines  ;  —  and  from  this  present  date,  if 
one  might  prophesy,  some  two  centuries  of  it  still  to  fight ! 
Two  centuries  ;  hardly  less ;  before  Democracy  go  through  its 
due,  most  baleful,  stages  of  $i£ac/cocracy ;  and  a  pestilential 
World  be  burnt  up,  and .  have"^egun  to  grow  green  and  young 
again. 

Rejoice  nevertheless,  ye  Versailles  multitudes  ;  to  you,  from 
whom  all  this  is  hid,  the  glorious  end  of  it  is  visible.  This 
day,  sentence  of  death  is  pronounced  on  Shams ;  judgment  of 
resuscitation,  were  it  but  afar  off,  is  pronounced  on  Realities. 
This  day  it  is  declared  aloud,  as  with  a  Doom-trumpet,  that 
a  Lie  is  unbelievable.  Believe  that,  stand  by  that,  if  more 
there  be  not ;  and  let  what  thing  or  things  soever  will  follow 
it  follow.  “  Ye  can  no  other  ;  God  be  your  help  !  ”  So  spake 
a  greater  than  any  of  you;  opening  his  Chapter  of  World- 
History. 

Behold,  however  !  The  doors  of  St.  Louis  Church  flung 
wide  ;  and  the  Procession  of  Processions  advancing  towards 
Notre-Dame  !  Shouts  rend  the  air  ;  one  shout,  at  which 
Grecian  birds  might  drop  dead.  It  is  indeed  a  stately,  solemn 
sight.  The  Elected  of  France,  and  then  the  Court  of  France  ; 
they  are  marshalled  and  march  there,  all  in  prescribed  place 
and  costume.  Our  Commons  “  in  plain  black  mantle  and 
white  cravat ;  ”  Noblesse,  in  gold-worked,  bright-dyed  cloaks 
of  velvet,  resplendent,  rustling  with  laces,  waving  with 
plumes ;  the  Clergy  in  rochet,  alb,  or  other  best  pontifi^Ubus : 
lastly  comes  the  King  himself,  and  King’s  Household,  also  in 
their  brightest  blaze  of  pomp,  —  their  brightest  and  final  one. 
Some  Fourteen  Hundred  Men  blown  together  from  all  winds, 
on  the  deepest  errand. 

Yes,  in  that  silent  marching  mass  there  lies  Futurity  enough. 
No  symbolic  Ark,  like  the  old  Hebrews,  do  these  men  bear  : 
yet  with  them  too  is  a  Covenant ;  they  too  preside  at  a  new 
Era  in  the  History  of  Men.  The  whole  Future  is  there,  and 
Destiny  dim-brooding  over  it  ;  in  the  hearts  and  unshaped 
thoughts  of  these  men,  it  lies  illegible,  inevitable.  Singular 


132 


STATES-GEKERAL. 


_ _  Book  IY. 

1789. 

to  think :  they  have  it  in  them ;  yet  not  they,  not  mortal,  only 
the  Eye  above  can  read  it,  —  as  it  shall  unfold  itself,  in  fire 
and  thunder,  of  siege,  and  field  artillery  ;  in  the  rustling 
of  battle-banners,  the  tramp  of  hosts,  in  the  glow  of  burn¬ 
ing  cities,  the  shriek  of  strangled  nations  !  Such  things  lie 
hidden,  safe-wrapt  in  this  Fourth  day  of  May ;  —  say  rather, 
had  lain  in  some  other  unknown  day,  of  which  this  latter  is 
the  public  fruit  and  outcome.  As  indeed  what  wonders  lie 
in  every  Day,  —  had  we  the  sight,  as  happily  we  have  not,  to 
decipher  it  :  for  is  not  every  meanest  Day  “  the  conflux  of 
two  Eternities  !  ” 


Meanwhile,  suppose  we  too,  good  Reader,  should,  as  now 
without  miracle  Muse  Clio  enables  us,  —  take  our  station  also 
on  some  coign  of  vantage ;  and  glance  momentarily  over  this 
Procession,  and  this  Life-sea;  with  far  other  eyes  than  the 
rest  do,  —  namely  with  prophetic  ?  We  can  mount,  and  stand 
there,  without  fear  of  falling. 

As  for  the  Life-sea,  or  on-looking  unnumbered  Multitude,  it 
is  unfortunately  all  too  dim.  Yet  as  we  gaze  fixedly,  do  not 
nameless  Figures  not  a  few,  which  shall  not  always  be  name¬ 
less,  disclose  themselves ;  visible  or  presumable  there  !  Young 
Baroness  de  Stael  —  she  evidently  looks  from  a  window ; 
among  older  honorable  women.1  Her  father  is  Minister,  and 
one  of  the  gala  personages ;  to  his  own  eyes  the  chief  one. 
Young  spiritual  Amazon,  thy  rest  is  not  there  ;  nor  thy  loved 
Father’s :  “  as  Malebranche  saw  all  things  in  God,  so  M. 
Keeker  sees  all  things  in  Keeker,” — a  theorem  that  will  not 
hold. 

But  where  is  the  brown-locked,  light-behaved,  fire-hearted 
Demoiselle  Theroigne  ?  Brown  eloquent  Beauty ;  who,  with 
thy  winged  words  and  glances,  shalt  thrill  rough  bosoms, 
whole  steel  battalions,  and  persuade  an  Austrian  Kaiser, — 
pike  and  helm  lie  provided  for  thee  in  due  season ;  and,  alas, 
also  strait-waistcoat  and  long  lodging  in  the  Salpetriere ! 
Better  hadst  thou  stayed  in  native  Luxemburg,  and  been  the 

1  Madame  de  Stael :  Considerations  sur  la  Revolution  Frangaise  (London,'  1818), 
i.  114-191. 


THE  PROCESSION. 


Chap.  IV. 
May  4. 


183 


mother  of  some  brave  man’s  children  :  but  it  was  not  thy  task, 
it  was  not  thy  lot. 

Of  the  rougher  sex  how,  without  tongue,  or  hundred  tongues, 
of  iron,  enumerate  the  notabilities !  Has  not  Marquis  Yaladi 
hastily  quitted  his  Quaker  broadbrim  ;  his  Pythagorean  Greek 
in  Wapping,  and  the  city  of  Glasgow?1  De  Morande  from 
his  Courrier  de  V Europe;  Linguet  from  his  Annates ,  they 
looked  eager  through  the  London  fog,  and  became  Ex-Editors, 
—  that  they  might  feed  the  guillotine,  and  have  their  due. 
Does  Louvet  (of  Faublas)  stand  a-tiptoe  ?  And  Brissot,  hight 
De  Warville,  friend  of  the  Blacks  ?  He,  with  Marquis  Condor- 
cet,  and  Claviere  the  Genevese  “have  created  the  Moniteur 
Newspaper,”  or  are  about  creating  it.  Able  Editors  must  give 
account  of  such  a  day. 

Or  seest  thou  with  any  distinctness,  low  down  probably,  not 
in  places  of  honor,  a  Stanislas  Maillard,  riding-tipstaff  ( Jiuis - 
sier  a  chevat)  of  the  Chatelet ;  one  of  the  shiftiest  of  men  ?  A 
Captain  Hulin  of  Geneva,  Captain  Elie  of  the  Queen’s  Regi¬ 
ment  ;  both  with  an  air  of  half-pay  ?  Jourdan,  with  tile- 
colored' whiskers,  not  yet  with  tile-beard;  an  unjust  dealer  in 
mules  ?  He  shall  be,  in  few  months,  Jourdan  the  Headsman, 
and  have  other  work. 

Surely  also,  in  some  place  not  of  honor,  stands  or  sprawls  up 
querulous,  that  he  too,  though  short,  may  see,  —  one  squalidest 
bleared  mortal,  redolent  of  soot  and  horse-drugs :  Jean  Paul 
Marat  of  Neuchatel !  0  Marat,  Renovator  of  Human  Science, 
Lecturer  on  Optics ;  0  thou  remarkablest  Horseleech,  once  in 
D’ Artois’  Stables,  —  as  thy  bleared  soul  looks  forth,  through 
thy  bleared,  dull-acrid,  woe-stricken  face,  what  sees  il^in  all 
this  ?  Any  faintest  light  of  hope  ;  like  dayspring  after  Nova- 
Zembla  night  ?  Or  is  it  but  blue  sulphur-light,  and  spectres  ; 
woe,  suspicion,  revenge  without  end  ? 

Of  Draper  Lecointre,  how  he  shut  his  cloth-shop  hard  by, 
and  stepped  forth,  one  need  hardly  speak.  Nor  of  Santerre, 
the  sonorous  Brewer  from  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine.  Two 
other  Figures,  and  only  two,  we  signalize  there.  The  huge, 
brawny  Figure  ;  through  whose  black  brows,  and  rude  flattened 
1  Founders  of  the  French  Republic  (London,  1798),  §  Yaladi. 


134  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

face  (t -figure  ecrasee),  there  looks  a  waste  energy  as  of  Hercules 
not  yet  furibund,  —  he  is  an  esurient,  unprovided  Advocate  ; 
Danton  by  name  :  him  mark.  Then  that  other,  his  slight-built 
comrade  and  craft-brother ;  he  with  the  long  curling  locks ; 
with  the  face  of  dingy  blackguardism,  wondrously  irradiated 
with  genius,  as  if  a  naphtha-lamp  burnt  within  it :  that 
Figure  is  Camille  Desmoulins.  A  fellow  of  infinite  shrewd¬ 
ness,  wit,  nay  humor  ;  one  of  the  sprightliest  clearest  souls  in 
all  these  millions.  Thou  poor  Camille,  say  of  thee  what  they 
may,  it  were  but  falsehood  to  pretend  one  did  not  almost  love 
thee,  thou  headlong  lightly  sparkling  man  !  But  the  brawny, 
not  yet  furibund  Figure,  we  say,  is  Jacques  Danton;  a  name 
that  shall  be '  “  tolerably  known  in  the  Revolution.”  He  is 
President  of  the  electoral  Cordeliers  District  at  Paris,  or  about 
to  be  it ;  and  shall  open  his  lungs  of  brass. 

We  dwell  no  longer  on  the  mixed  shouting  Multitude :  for 
now,  behold,  the  Commons  Deputies  are  at  hand  ! 

JPytr.U.ff* 

Which  of  these  Six  Hundred  individuals,  in  plain  white 
cravat,  that  have  come  up  to  regenerate  France,  might  one 
guess  would  become  their  king?  For  a  king  or  leader  they,  as 
all  bodies  of  men,  must  have  :  be  their  work  what  it  may,  there 
is  one  man  there  who,  by  character,  faculty,  position,  is  fittest 
of  all  to  do  it ;  that  man,  as  future  not  yet  elected  king,  walks 
there  among  the  rest.  He  with  the  thick  black  locks,  will  it 
be  ?  With  the  hure,  as  himself  calls  it,  or  black  boar’ s-head, 
fit  to  be  “  shaken  ”  as  a  senatorial  portent  ?  Through  whose 
shaggy  beetle-brows,  and  rough-hewn,  seamed,  carbuncled  face, 
there  look  natural  ugliness,  small-pox,  incontinence,  bank¬ 
ruptcy,  —  and  burning  fire  of  genius ;  like  comet-fire  glaring 
fuliginous  through  murkiest  confusions  ?  It  is  Gabriel  Honore 
Riquetti  de  Mirabeau ,  the  world-compeller ;  man-ruling  Deputy 
of  Aix !  According  to  the  Baroness  de  Stael,  he  steps  proudly 
along,  though  looked  at  askance  here ;  and  shakes  his  black 
chevelure ,  or  lion’s-mane ;  as  if  prophetic  of  great  deeds. 

Yes,  Reader,  that  is  the  Type-Frenchman  of  this  epoch ;  as 
Voltaire  was  of  the  last.  He  is  French  in  his  aspirations, 
acquisitions,  in  his  virtues,  in  his  vices ;  perhaps  more  French 


Chap.  IV.  THE  PROCESSION.  135 

May  4.- 

than  any  other  man  ;  —  and  intrinsically  such  a  mass  of  man¬ 
hood  too.  Mark  him  well.  The  National  Assembly  were  all 
different  without  that  one  ;  nay,  he  might  say  with  the  old 
Despot:  “The  National  Assembly  ?  I  am  that.” 

Of  a  southern  climate,  of  wild  southern  blood :  for  the  Ri- 
quettis,  or  Arrighettis,  had  to  fly  from  Florence  and  the  Guelfs, 
long  centuries  ago,  and  settled  in  Provence ;  where  from  gen¬ 
eration  to  generation  they  have  ever  approved  themselves  a 
peculiar  kindred :  irascible,  indomitable,  sharp-cutting,  true, 
like  the  steel  they  wore;  of  an  intensity  and  activity  that 
sometimes  verged  towards  madness,  yet  did  not  reach  it.  One 
ancient  Riquetti,  in  mad  fulfilment  of  a  mad  vow,  chains  two 
Mountains  together ;  and  the  chain,  with  its  “  iron  star  of 
five  rays,”  is  still  to  be  seen.  May  not  a  modern  Riquetti 
tmchain  so  much,  and  set  it  drifting,  —  which  also  shall  be 
seen  ? 

Destiny  has  work  for  that  swart  burly-headed  Mirabeau; 
Destiny  has  watched  over  him,  prepared  him  from  afar.  Did 
not  his  Grandfather,  stout  Col-d’ Argent  (Silver-Stock,  so  they 
named  him),  shattered  and  slashed  by  seven-and-twenty 
wounds  in  one  fell  day,  lie  sunk  together  on  the  Bridge  at 
Casano  ;  while  Prince  Eugene’s  cavalry  galloped  and  regal¬ 
loped  over  him,  —  only  the  flying  sergeant  had  thrown  a  camp- 
kettle  over  that  loved  head ;  and  Vendome,  dropping  his  spy¬ 
glass,  moaned  out,  “  Mirabeau  is  dead,  then  !  ”  Nevertheless 
he  was  not  dead :  he  awoke  to  breath,  and  miraculous  surgery  ; 
—  for  Gabriel  was  yet  to  be.  With  his  silver-stock  he  kept  his 
scarred  head  erect,  through  long  years  ;  and  wedded ;  and  pro¬ 
duced  tough  Marquis  Victor,  the  Friend  of  Men.  Whereby  at 
last  in  the  appointed  year  1749,  this  long-expected  rough- 
hewn  Gabriel  Honore  did  likewise  see  the  light :  roughest 
lion’s-whelp  ever  littered  of  that  rough  breed.  How  the  old 
lion  (for  our  old  Marquis  too  was  lion-like,  most  unconquer¬ 
able,  kingly-genial,  most  perverse)  gazed  wondering  on  his  off¬ 
spring  ;  and  determined  to  train  him  as  no  lion  had  yet  been  ! 
It  is  in  vain,  0  Marquis !  This  cub,  though  thou  slay  him  and 
flay  him,  will  not  learn  to  draw  in  dogcart  of  Political  Economy, 
and  be  a  Friend  of  Men  ;  he  will  not  be  Thou,  but  must  and 


136  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

will  be  Himself,  another  than  Thou.  Divorce  lawsuits,  “  whole 
family  save  one  in  prison,  and  threescore  Lettres-de- Cachet” 
for  thy  own  sole  use,  do  but  astonish  the  world. 

Our  luckless  Gabriel,  sinned  against  and  sinning,  has  been 
in  the  Isle  of  Rhe,  and  heard  the  Atlantic  from  his  tower ;  in 
the  Castle  of  If,  and  heard  the  Mediterranean  at  Marseilles. 
He  has  been  in  the  Fortress  of  Joux;  and  forty-two  months, 
with  hardly  clothing  to  his  back,  in  the  Dungeon  of  Vin¬ 
cennes  ;  —  all  by  Lettre-de- Cachet,  from  his  lion  father.  He 
has  been  in  Pontarlier  J ails  (self-constituted  prisoner) ;  was 
noticed  fording  estuaries  of  the  sea  (at  low  water),  in  flight 
from  the  face  of  men.  He  has  pleaded  before  Aix  Parlements 
(to  get  back  his  wife) ;  the  public  gathering  on  roofs,  to  see 
since  they  could  not  hear  :  “  the  clatter-teeth  (claque-dents) !  ” 
snarls  singular  old  Mirabeau;  discerning  in  such  admired 
forensic  eloquence  nothing  but  two  clattering  jawbones,  and  a 
head  vacant,  sonorous,  of  the  drum  species. 

But  as  for  Gabriel  Honore,  in  these  strange  wayfarings, 
what  has  he  not  seen  and  tried !  From  drill-sergeants,  to 
prime-ministers,  to  foreign  and  domestic  booksellers,  all  manner 
of  men  he  has  seen.  All  manner  of  men  he  has  gained ;  for  at 
bottom  it  is  a  social,  loving  heart,  that  wild  unconquerable  one  : 
—  more  especially  all  manner  of  women.  From  the  Archer’s 
Daughter  at  Saintes  to  that  fair  young  Sophie  Madame  Mon- 
nier,  whom  he  could  not  but  “  steal,”  and  be  beheaded  for  —  in 
effigy  !  For  indeed  hardly  since  the  Arabian  Prophet  lay  dead 
to  Ali’s  admiration,  was  there  seen  such  a  Love-hero,  with  the 
strength  of  thirty  men.  In  War,  again,  he  has  helped  to  con¬ 
quer  Corsica ;  fought  duels,  irregular  brawls ;  horsewhipped 
calumnious  barons.  In  Literature,  he  has  written  on  Despot¬ 
ism,  on  Lettres-de- Cachet ;  Erotics  Sapphic- Werterean,  Ob¬ 
scenities,  Profanities ;  Books  on  the  Prussian  Monarchy,  on 
Cagliostro,  on  Calonne,  on  the  Water -Companies  of  Paris:  — 
each  Book  comparable,  we  will  say,  to  a  bituminous  alarum- 
fire  ;  huge,  smoky,  sudden !  The  firepan,  the  kindling,  the 
bitumen  were  his  own ;  but  the  lumber,  of  rags,  old  wood  and 
nameless  combustible  rubbish  (for  all  is  fuel  to  him),  was 
gathered  from  hucksters,  and  ass-panniers,  of  every  descrip- 


Chap.  IV.  THE  PROCESSION.  137 

May  4. 

tion  under  heaven.  Whereby,  indeed,  hucksters  enough  have 
been  heard  to  exclaim :  Out  upon  it,  the  fire  is  mine ! 

Nay,  consider  it  more  generally,  seldom  had  man  such  a 
talent  for  borrowing.  The  idea,  the  faculty  of  another  man  he 
can  make  his  ;  the  man  himself  he  can  make  his.  “  All  reflex 
and  echo  ( tout  de  reflet  et  de  reverbere)  !  ”  snarls  old  Mirabeau, 
who  can  see,  but  will  not.  Crabbed  old  Friend  of  Men !  it 
is  his  sociality,  his  aggregative  nature  ;  and  will  now  be  the 
quality  of  qualities  for  him.  In  that  forty-years  “  struggle 
against  despotism/’  he  has  gained  the  glorious  faculty  of  self- 
help,  and  yet  not  lost  the  glorious  natural  gift  of  fellowship, 
of  being  helped.  Rare  union :  this  man  can  live  self-sufficing 

—  yet  lives  also  in  the  life  of  other  men  ;  can  make  men  love 
him,  work  with  him ;  a  born  king  of  men ! 

But  consider  further  how,  as  the  old  Marquis  still  snarls,  he 
has  “  made  away  with  ( hume ,  swallowed,  snuffed  up)  all  For¬ 
mulas  ;  ”  —  a  fact  which,  if  we  meditate  it,  will  in  these  days 
mean  much.  This  is  no  man  of  system,  then ;  he  is  only  a 
man  of  instincts  and  insights.  A  man  nevertheless  who  will 
glare  fiercely  on  any  object ;  and  see  through  it,  and  conquer 
it :  for  he  has  intellect,  he  has  will,  force  beyond  other  men. 
A  man  not  with  logic-spectacles  ;  but  with  an  eye!  Unhappily 
without  Decalogue,  moral  Code  or  Theorem  of  any  fixed  sort ; 
yet  not  without  a  strong  living  Soul  in  him,  and  Sincerity 
there  :  a  Reality,  not  an  Artificiality,  not  a  Sham  !  And  so  he, 
having  struggled  “  forty  years  against  despotism,”  and  u  made 
away  with  all  formulas,”  shall  now  become  the  spokesman  of 
a  Nation  bent  to  do  the  same.  For  is  it  not  precise^  the 
struggle  of  France  also  to  cast  off  despotism ;  to  make  away 
with  her  old  formulas,  — having  found  them  naught,  worn  out, 
far  from  the  reality  ?  She  will  make  away  with  such  formulas  ; 

—  and  even  go  bare,  if  need  be,  till  she  have  found  new  ones. 

Towards  such  work,  in  such  manner,  marches  he,  this  sin¬ 
gular  Riquetti  Mirabeau.  In  fiery  rough  figure,  with  black 
Samson-locks  under  the  slouch-hat,  he  steps  along  there.  A 
fiery  fuliginous  mass,  which  could  *not  be  choked  and  smoth¬ 
ered,  but  would  fill  all  France  with  smoke.  And  now  it  has 
got  air ;  it  will  burn  its  whole  substance,  its  whole  smoke- 


138  STATES-GENEKAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

atmosphere  too,  and  fill  all  France  with  flame.  Strange  lot ! 
Forty  years  of  that  smouldering,  with  foul  fire-damp  and  vapor 
enough ;  then  victory  over  that ;  —  and  like  a  burning  moun¬ 
tain  he  blazes  heaven-high;  and,  for  twenty-three  resplendent 
months,  pours  out,  in  flame  and  molten  fire-torrents,  all  that 
is  in  him,  the  Pharos  and  Wonder-sign  of  an  amazed  Europe ; 
—  and  then  lies  hollow,  cold  forever  !  Pass  on,  thou  question¬ 
able  Gabriel  Honore,  the  greatest  of  them  all :  in  the  whole 
National  Deputies,  in  the  whole  Nation,  there  is  none  like  and 
none  second  to  thee. 

But  now  if  Mirabeau  is  the  greatest,  who  of  these  Six 
Hundred  may  be  the  meanest  ?  Shall  we  say,  that  anxious, 
slight,  ineffectual-looking  man,  under  thirty,  in  spectacles ;  his 
eyes  (were  the  glasses  off)  troubled,  careful;  with  upturned 
face,  snuffing  dimly  the  uncertain  future  time  ;  complexion  of 
a  multiplex  atrabiliar  color,  the  final  shade  of  which  may  be 
the  pale  sea-green.1  That  greenish-colored  ( verddtre )  individ¬ 
ual  is  an  Advocate  of  Arras  ;  his  name  is  Maximilien  Robes- 
prierre.  The  son  of  an  Advocate ;  his  father  founded  mason- 
lodges  under  Charles  Edward,  the  English  Prince  or  Pretender. 
Maximilien  the  first-born  was  thriftily  educated ;  he  had  brisk 
Camille  Desmoulins  for  schoolmate  in  the  College  of  Louis  le 
Grand,  at  Paris.  But  he  begged  our  famed  Necklace-Cardinal, 
Bohan,  the  patron,  to  let  him  depart  thence,  and  resign  in  favor 
of  a  younger  brother.  The  strict-minded  Max  departed ;  home 
to  paternal  Arras  ;  and  even  had  a  Law-case  there  and  pleaded, 
not  unsuccessfully,  u  in  favor  of  the  first  Franklin  thunder-rod.” 
With  a  strict  painful  mind,  an  understanding  small  but  clear 
and  ready,  he  grew  in  favor  with  official  persons,  who  could 
foresee  in  him  an  excellent  man  of  business,  happily  quite  free 
from  genius.  The  Bishop,  therefore,  taking  counsel,  appoints 
him  Judge  of  his  diocese ;  and  he  faithfully  does  justice  to 
the  people :  till  behold,  one  day,  a  culprit  comes  whose  crime 
merits  hanging;  and  the  strict-minded  Max  must  abdicate, 
for  his  conscience  will  not  permit  the  dooming  of  any  son 
of  Adam  to  die.  A  strict-minded,  strait-laced  man !  A  man 
unfit  for  Devolutions  ?  Whose  small  soul,  transparent  whole- 
1  See  De  Stael,  Considerations  (ii.  142) ;  Barbaroux,  Me' moires,  &c. 


ROBESPIERRE. 


Chap.  IV.  THE  PROCESSION.  139 

May  4. 

some-looking  as  small-ale,  could  by  no  chance  ferment  into 
virulent  * alegar ,  —  the  mother  of  ever  new  alegar ;  till  all 
France  were  grown  acetous  virulent  ?  •  We  shall  see.  %  j- 

Between  which  two  extremes  of  grandest  and  meanest,  so 
many  grand  and  mean  roll  on,  towards  their  several  destinies, 
in  that  Procession !  There  is  Cazales,  the  learned  young  sol¬ 
dier  ;  who  shall  become  the  eloquent  orator  of  Royalism,  and 
earn  the  shadow  of  a  name.  Experienced  Mounier ;  experi¬ 
enced  Malouet ;  whose  Presidential  Parlementary  experience, 
the  stream  of  things  shall  soon  leave  stranded.  A  Petion  has 
left  his  gown  and  briefs  at  Chartres  for  a  stormier  sort  of  plead¬ 
ing  ;  has  not  forgotten  his  violin,  being  fond  of  music.  His 
hair  is  grizzled,  though  he  is  still  young :  convictions,  beliefs 
placid-unalterable  are  in  that  man;  not  hindmost  of  them, 
belief  in  himself.  A  Protestant-clerical  Rabaut- St. -Etienne,  a 
slender  young  eloquent  and  vehement  Barnave,  will  help  to 
regenerate  France.  There  are  so  many  of  them  young.  Till 
thirty  the  Spartans  did  not  suffer  a  man  to  marry :  but  how 
many  men  here  under  thirty ;  coming  to  produce  not  one  suffi¬ 
cient  citizen,  but  a  nation  and  a  world  of  such !  The  old 
to  heal  up  rents  ;  the  young  to  remove  rubbish :  —  which 
latter,  is  it  not,  indeed,  the  task  here  ? 

Dim,  formless  from  this  distance,  yet  authentically  there, 
thou  noticest  the  Deputies  from  Nantes?  To  us  mere 
clothes-screens,  with  slouch-hat  and  cloak,  but  bearing  in  their 
pocket  a  Cahier  of  doleances  with  this  singular  clause,  and 
more  such,  in  it :  “  That  the  master  wigmakers  of  Nantes  be 
not  troubled  with  new  guild-brethren,  the  actually  existing 
number  of  ninety-two  being  more  than  sufficient !  ” 1  The 
Rennes  people  have  elected  Farmer  Gerard,  u  a  man  of  natural 
sense  and  rectitude,  without  any  learning.”  He  walks  there, 
with  solid  step ;  unique,  “  in  his  rustic  farmer-clothes  ;  ”  which 
he  will  wear  always ;  careless  of  short-cloaks  and  costumes. 
The  name  Gerard,  or  “  Pere  Gerard,  Father  Gerard,”  as  they 
please  to  call  him,  will  fly  far ;  borne  about  in  endless  banter ; 
in  Royalist  satires,  in  Republican  didactic  Almanacs.2  As  for 

1  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  335. 

2  Actes  des  Apotres  (by  Peltier  and  others) ;  Almanack  du  Pere  Gdrard  (by 
Collot  d’Herbois),  &c.  &c. 


140 


STATES-GENERAL. 


Book  IV. 
1789. 

the  man  Gerard,  being  asked  once,  what  he  did,  after  trial  of 


it,  candidly  think  of  this  Parlementary  work,  —  I  think,” 


answered  he,  “  that  there  are  a  good  many  scoundrels  among 
us.”  So  walks  Father  Gerard;  solid  in  his  thick  shoes, 
ersoever  bound. 


And  worthy  Doctor  Guillotin ,  whom  we  hoped  to  behold  one 
other  time  ?  If  not  here,  the  Doctor  should  be  here,  and  we 
see  him  with  the  eye  of  prophecy :  for  indeed  the  Parisian 
Deputies  are  all  a  little  late.  Singular  Guillotin,  respectable 
practitioner :  doomed  by  a  satiric  destiny  to  the  strangest  im¬ 
mortal  glory  that  ever  kept  obscure  mortal  from  his  resting- 
place,  the  bosom  of  oblivion !  Guillotin  can  improve  the 
ventilation  of  the  Hall:  in  all  cases  of  medical  police  and 
hygiene  be  a  present  aid:  but,  greater  far,  he  can  produce  his 
“  Report  on  the  Penal  Code  ;  ”  and  reveal  therein  a  cunningly 
devised  Beheading  Machine,  which  shall  become  famous  and 
world-famous.  This  is  the  product  of  Guillotin’s  endeavors, 
gained  not  without  meditation  and  reading;  which  product 
popular  gratitude  or  levity  christens  by  a  feminine  derivative 
name,  as  if  it  were  his  daughter:  La  Guillotine!  “With  my 
machine,  Messieurs,  I  whisk  off  your  head  (yous  fais  sauter 
la  tete)  in  a  twinkling,  and  you  have  no  pain;” — whereat 
they  all  laugh.1  Unfortunate  Doctor!  For  two-and-twenty 
years  he,  unguillotined,  shall  hear  nothing  but  guillotine,  see 
nothing  but  guillotine ;  then  dying,  shall  through  long  cen¬ 
turies  wander,  as  it  were,  a  disconsolate  ghost,  on  the 
wrong  side  of  Styx  and  Lethe;  his  name  like  to  outlive 
Caesar’s. 

See  Bailly,  likewise  of  Paris,  time-honored  Historian  of 
Astronomy  Ancient  and  Modern.  Poor  Bailly,  how  thy  se¬ 
renely  beautiful  Philosophizing,  with  its  soft  moonshiny  clear¬ 
ness  and  thinness,  ends  in  foul  thick  confusion  —  of  Presidency, 
Mayorship,  diplomatic  Officiality,  rabid  Triviality,  and  the 
throat  of  everlasting  Darkness !  Far  was  it  to  descend  from 
the  heavenly  Galaxy  to  the  Drapeau  Rouge :  beside  that  fatal 
dung-heap,  on  that  last-  hell-day,  thou  must  “  tremble,”  though 
only  with  cold,  “  de  froid .”  Speculation  is  not  practice  :  to 

1  Moniteur  Newspaper,  of  December  1,  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire). 


Chap.  IV.  THE  PROCESSION.  141 

May  4. 

be  weak  is  not  so  miserable  ;  but  to  be  weaker  than  our  task. 
Woe  the  day  when  they  mounted  thee,  a  peaceable  pedes¬ 
trian,  on  that  wild  Hippogriff  of  a  Democracy ;  which,  spurn¬ 
ing  the  firm  earth,  nay  lashing  at  the  very  stars ,  no  yet  known 
Astolpho  could  have  ridden  ! 

In  the  Commons  Deputies  there  are  Merchants,  Artists,  Men 
of  Letters ;  three  hundred  and  seventy-four  Lawyers  ; 1  and  at 
least  one  Clergyman :  the  Abbe  Sieyes.  Him  also  Paris  sends, 
among  its  twenty.  Behold  him,  the  light  thin  man  ;  cold,  but 
elastic,  wiry ;  instinct  with  the  pride  of  Logic ;  passionless, 
or  with  but  one  passion,  that  of  self-conceit.  If  indeed  that 
can  be  called  a  passion,  which,  in  its  independent  concentrated 
greatness,  seems  to  have  soared  into  transcendentalism ;  and 
to  sit  there  with  a  kind  of  godlike  indifference,  and  look  down 
%on  passion !  He  is  the  man,  and  wisdom  shall  die  with  him. 
This  is  the  Sieyes  who  shall  be  System-builder,  Constitution- 
builder  General ;  and  build  Constitutions  (as  many  as  wanted) 
sky-high,  —  which  shall  all  unfortunately  fall  before  he  get  the 
scaffolding  away.  uLa  Politique  ”  said  he  to  Dumont,  “  Polity 
is  a  science  I  think  I  have  completed  ( achevee ).” 2  What 
things,  0  Sieyes,  with  thy  clear  assiduous  eyes,  art  thou  to  see  ! 
But  were  it  not  curious  to  know  how  Sieyes,  now  in  these 
days  (for  he  is  said  to  be  still  alive)  3  looks  out  on  all  that  Con¬ 
stitution  masonry,  through  the  rheumy  soberness  of  extreme 
age  ?  Might  we  hope,  still  with  the  old  irrefragable  transcen¬ 
dentalism  ?  The  victorious  cause  pleased  the  gods,  the  van¬ 
quished  one  pleased  Sieyes  ( victa  Catoni). 

Thus,  however,  amid  sky-rending  vivats,  and  blessings  from 
every  heart,  has  the  Procession  of  the  Commons  Deputies 
rolled  by. 

Next  follow  the  Noblesse,  and  next  the  Clergy;  concerning 
both  of  whom  it  might  be  asked,  What  they  specially  have 
come  for  ?  Specially,  little  as  they  dream  of  it,  to  answer  this 
question,  put  in  a  voice  of  thunder :  What  are  you  doing 
in  God’s  fair  Earth  and  Task-garden ;  where  whosoever  is  not 

1  Bouille:  Memoires  sur  la  Revolution  Fran$aise  (London,  1797),  i.  68. 

2  Dumont:  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  64.  3  a.d.  1834. 


142  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1780. 

working  is  begging  or  stealing  ?  Woe,  woe  to  themselves  and 
to  all,  if  they  can  only  answer :  Collecting  tithes,  Preserving 
game!  —  Remark,  meanwhile,  how  &  Orleans  affects  to  step 
before  his  own  Order,  and  mingle  with  the  Commons.  For 
him  are  vivats:  few  for  the  rest,  though  all  wave  in  plumed 
“hats  of  a  feudal  cut,”  and  have  sword  on  thigh;  though 
among  them  is  D’ Antraiyues,  the  young  Languedocian  gentle¬ 
man, —  and  indeed  many  a  Peer  more  or  less  noteworthy. 

There  are  Liancourt ,  and  La  Rochefoucauld  ;  the  liberal  An¬ 
glomaniac  Dukes.  There  is  a  filially  pious  Lally  ;  a  couple  of 
liberal  Lameths.  Above  all,  there  is  a  Lafayette ;  whose  name 
shall  be  Cromwell-Grandison,  and  fill  the  world.  Many  a 
“  formula  ”  has  this  Lafayette  too  made  aAvay  with ;  yet  not 
all  formulas.  He  sticks  by  the  Washington-formula ;  and  by 
that  he  will  stick ;  —  and  hang  by  it,  as  by  sure  bower-anchor  # 
hangs  and  swings  the  tight  war-ship,  which,  after  all  changes 
of  wildest  weather  and  water,  is  found  still  hanging.  Happy 
for  him ;  be  it  glorious  or  not !  Alone  of  all  Frenchmen 
he  has  a  theory  of  the  world,  and  right  mind  to  conform 
thereto ;  he  can  become  a  hero  and  perfect  character,  were  it 
but  the  hero  of  one  idea.  Note  further  our  old  Parlementary 
friend,  Crispin- Catiline  d’ Espremenil.  He  is  returned  from 
the  Mediterranean  Islands,  a  red-hot  royalist,  repentant  to  the 
finger-ends  ;  —  unsettled-looking  ;  whose  light,  dusky-glowing 
at  best,  now  flickers  foul  in  the  socket ;  whom  the  National 
Assembly  will  by  and  by,  to  save  time,  “  regard  as  in  a  state 
of  distraction.”  Note  lastly  that  globular  Younyev  Mirabeau: 
indignant  that  his  elder  Brother  is  among  the  Commons  :  it  is 
Viscomte  Mirabeau ;  named  oftener  Mirabeau  Tonneau  (Barrel 
Mirabeau),  on  account  of  his  rotundity,  and  the  quantities  of 
strong  liquor  he  contains. 

There  then  walks  our  French  Noblesse.  All  in  the  old 
pomp  of  chivalry :  and  yet,  alas,  how  changed  from  the  old 
position  ;  drifted  far  down  from  their  native  latitude,  like 
Arctic  icebergs  got  into  the  Equatorial  sea,  and  fast  thawing 
there  !  Once  these  Chivalry  Duces  (Dukes,  as  they  are  still 
named)  did  actually  lead  the  world,  —  were  it  only  towards 
battle-spoil,  where  lay  the  world’s  best  wages  then :  moreover, 


THE  PKOCESSION. 


143 


Chap.  IY. 

May  4. 

being  the  ablest  Leaders  going,  they  had  their  lion’s  share, 
those  Duces  ;  which  none  could  grudge  them.  But  now,  when 
so  many  Looms,  improved  Ploughshares,  Steam-Engines  and 
Bills  of  Exchange  have  been  invented ;  and,  for  battle-brawling 
itself,  men  hire  Drill-Sergeants  at  eighteenpence  a  day,  —  what 
mean  these  gold-mantled  Chivalry  Figures,  walking  there  “  in 
black-velvet  cloaks,”  in  high-plumed  “  hats  of  a  feudal  cut  ”  ? 
Heeds  shaken  in  the  wind  ! 


The  Clergy  have  got  Up  ;  with  Cahiers  for  abolishing  plu¬ 
ralities,  enforcing  residence  of  bishops,  better  payment  of 
tithes.1  The  Dignitaries,  we  can  observe,  walk  stately,  apart 
from  the  numerous  Undignified,  —  who  indeed  are  properly 
little  other  than  Commons  disguised  in  Curate-frocks.  Here, 
however,  though  by  strange  ways,  shall  the  Precept  be  fulfilled, 
and  they  that  are  greatest  (much  to  their  astonishment)  be¬ 
come  least.  Eor  one  example,  out  of  many,  mark  that  plausi¬ 
ble  Greyoire :  one  day  Cure  Gregoire  shall  be  a  Bishop,  when 
the  now  stately  are  wandering  distracted,  as  Bishops  in  par- 
tibus.  With  other  thought,  mark  also  the  Abbe  Maury:  his 
broad  bold  face  ;  mouth  accurately  primmed ;  full  eyes,  that 
ray  out  intelligence,  falsehood,  —  the  sort  of  sophistry  which  is 
astonished  you  should  find  it  sophistical.  Skilfulest  vamper- 
up  of  old  rotten  leather,  to  make  it  look  like  new ;  always  a 
rising  man ;  he  used  to  tell  Mercier,  “  You  will  see ;  I  shall  be 
in  the  Academy  before  you.”  2  Likely  indeed,  thou  skilfulest 
Maury  ;  nay  thou  shalt  have  a  Cardinal’s  Hat,  and  plush  and 
glory  ;  but  alas,  also,  in  the  long-run — mere  oblivion,  like  the 
rest  of  us ;  and  six  feet  of  earth !  What  boots  it,  vamping 
rotten  leather  on  these  terms  ?  Glorious  in  comparison  is  the 
livelihood  thy  good  old  Father  earns,  by  making  shoes,  — one 
may  hope,  in  a  sufficient  manner.  Maury  does  not  want  for 
audacity.  He  shall  wear  pistols,  by  and  by ;  and,  at  death- 
cries  of  “  La  Lanterne ,  The  Lamp-iron  !  ”  —  answer  coolly, 
“  Friends,  will  you  see  better  there  ?  ” 

But  yonder,  halting  lamely  along,  thou  noticest  next  Bishop 
Talleyrand-Perigord ,  his  Heverence  of  Autun.  A  sardonic 
1  Hist.  Pari.  i.  322-327.  2  Mercier :  Nouveau  Paris. 


144 


STATES-GENERAL. 


Book  IV. 
1789. 


grimness  lies  in  that  irreverend  Reverence  of  Autun.  He  will 
do  and  suffer  strange  things;  and  will  become  surely  one  of 
the  strangest  things  ever  seen,  or  like  to  be  seen.  A  man 
living  in  falsehood,  and  on  falsehood ;  yet  not  what  you  can 
call  a  false  man  ;  there  is  the  specialty  !  It  will  b6  an  enigma 
for  future  ages,  one  may  hope  ;  hitherto  such  a  product  of  Na¬ 
ture  and  Art  was  possible  only  for  this  age  of  ours,  —  Age  of 
Paper,  and  of  the  Burning  of  Paper.  Consider  Bishop  Talley¬ 
rand  and  Marquis  Lafayette  as  the  topmost  of  their  two  kinds ; 
and  say  once  more,  looking  at  what  they  did  and  what  they 
were,  0  Tempus  ferax  rerum  ! 

On  the  whole,  however,  has  not  this  unfortunate  Clergy  also 
drifted  in  the  Time-stream,  far  from  its  native  latitude  ?  An 
anomalous  mass  of  men ;  of  whom  the  whole  world  has  already 
a  dim  understanding  that  it  can  understand  nothing.  They 
were  once  a  Priesthood,  interpreters  of  Wisdom,  revealers  of 
the  Holy  that  is  in  Man ;  a  true  Clerics  (or  inheritance  of  God 
on  Earth)  :  but  now  ?  —  They  pass  silently,  with  such  Cahiers 
as  they  have  been  able  to  redact ;  and  none  cries,  God  bless 
them. 


King  Louis  with  his  Court  brings  up  the  rear :  he  cheerful, 
in  this  day  of  hope,  is  saluted  with  plaudits;  still  more  Necker 
his  Minister.  Not  so  the  Queen;  on  whom  hope  shines  not 
steadily  any  more.  Ill-fated  Queen !  Her  hair  is  already  gray 
with  many  cares  and  crosses  ;  her  first-born  son  is  dying  in 
these  weeks :  black  falsehood  has  ineffaceably  soiled  her  name ; 
ineffaceably  while  this  generation  lasts.  Instead  of  Vive  la 
Reine,  voices  insult  her  with  Vive  (V  Orleans.  Of  her  queenly 
beauty  little  remains  except  its  stateliness  ;  not  now  gracious, 
but  haughty,  rigid,  silently  enduring.  With  a  most  mixed 
feeling,  wherein  joy  has  no  part,  she  resigns  herself  to  a  day 
she  hoped  never  to  have  seen.  Poor  Marie  Antoinette ;  with 
thy  quick  noble  instincts ;  vehement  glancings,  vision  all  too 
fitful  narrow  for  the  work  thou  hast  to  do  !  Oh,  there  are  tears 
in  store  for  thee  ;  bitterest  wailings,  soft  womanly  meltings, 
though  thou  hast  the  heart  of  an  imperial  Theresa’s  Daughter. 
Thou  doomed  one,  shut  thy  eyes  on  the  future  !  — 


Vi,!*  ^  -  -  -- 


Chap.  IV.  THE  PROCESSION.  145 

May  4. 

And.  so,  in  stately  Procession,  have  passed  the  Elected  of 
Prance.  Some  towards  honor  and  quick  fire-consummation; 
most  towards  dishonor ;  not  a  few  towards  massacre,  confusion, 
emigration,  desperation :  all  towards  Eternity  !  —  So  many  het¬ 
erogeneities  cast  together  into  the  fermenting-vat ;  there,  with 
incalculable  action,  counteraction,  elective  affinities,  explosive 
developments,  to  work  out  healing  for  a  sick  moribund  System 
of  Society  !  Probably  the  strangest  Body  of  Men,  if  we  con¬ 
sider  well,  that  ever  met  together  on  our  Planet  on  such  an 
errand.  So  thousand-fold  complex  a  Society,  ready  to  burst 
up  from  its  infinite  depths ;  and  these  men,  its  rulers  and 
healers,  without  life-rule  for  themselves,  —  other  life-rule 
than  a  Gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques  !  To  the  wisest 
of  them,  what  we  must  call  the  wisest,  man  is  properly  an 
Accident  under  the  sky.  Man  is  without  Duty  round  him; 
except  it  be  “to  make  the  Constitution.”  He  is  without 
Heaven  above  him,  or  Hell  beneath  him ;  he  has  no  God  in 
the  world. 

What  further  or  better  belief  can  be  said  to  exist  in  these 
Twelve  Hundred  ?  Belief  in  high-plumed  hats  of  a  feudal 
cut ;  in  heraldic  scutcheons  ;  in  the  divine  right  of  Kings,  in 
the  divine  right  of  Game-destroyers.  Belief,  or  what  is  still 
worse,  canting  half-belief ;  or  worst  of  all,  mere  Machiavellic 
pretence-of-belief,  —  in  consecrated  dough-wafers,  and  the  god- 
hood  of  a  poor  old  Italian  Man!  Nevertheless  in  that  im> 
measurable  Confusion  and  Corruption,  which  struggles  there 
so  blindly  to  become  less  confused  and  corrupt,  there  is,  as  we 
said,  this  one  s'alient  point  of  a  New  Life  discernible :  the 
deep  fixed  Determination  to  have  done  with  Shams.  A  deter¬ 
mination,  which,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  is  fixed  ;  which 
waxes  ever  more  fixed,  into  very  madness  and  fixed-idea ; 
which  in  such  embodiment  as  lies  provided  there,  shall  now 
unfold  itself  rapidly :  monstrous,  stupendous,  unspeakable ; 
new  for  long  thousands  of  years!  —  How  has  the  Heaven’s 
light,  oftentimes  in  this  Earth,  to  clothe  itself  in  thunder  and 
electric  murkiness ;  and  descend  as  molten  lightning,  blasting, 
if  purifying  !  Nay  is  it  not  rather  the  very  murkiness,  andi 
atmospheric  suffocation,  that  brings  the  lightning  and  the  light  ? 

VOL.  III.  10 


146  STATES-GENERAL.  Book  IV. 

1789. 

The  new  Evangel,  as  the  old  had  been,  was  it  to  be  born  in  the 
Destruction  of  a  World  ? 

But  how  the  Deputies  assisted  at  High  Mass,  and  heard 
sermon,  and  applauded  the  preacher,  church  as  it  was,  when 
he  preached  politics  ;  how,  next  day,  with  sustained  pomp, 
they  are,  for  the  first  time,  installed  in  their  Salle-des-JMenus 
(Hall  no  longer  of  Amusements ),  and  become  a  States-Gen- 
eral,  —  readers  can  fancy  for  themselves.  The  King  from  his 
estrade,  gorgeous  as  Solomon  in  all  his  glory,  runs  his  eye 
over  that  majestic  Hall;  many-plumed,  many-glancing ;  bright- 
tinted  as  rainbow,  in  the  galleries  and  near  side-spaces,  where 
Beauty  sits  raining  bright  influence.  Satisfaction,  as  of  one 
that  after  long  voyaging  had  got  to  port,  plays  over  his  broad 
simple  face  :  the  innocent  King !  He  rises  and  speaks,  with 
sonorous  tone,  a  conceivable  speech.  With  which,  still  more 
with  the  succeeding  one-hour  and  two-hour  speeches  of  Garde- 
des-Sceaux  and  M.  Necker,  full  of  nothing  but  patriotism, 
hope,  faith,  and  deficiency  of  the  revenue,  —  no  reader  of 
these  pages  shall  be  tried. 

We  remark  only  that,  as  his  Majesty,  on  finishing  the 
speech,  put  on  his  plumed  hat,  and  the  Noblesse  according  to 
custom  imitated  him,  our  Tiers-Etat  Deputies  did  mostly, 
not  without  a  shade  of  fierceness,  in  like  manner  clap  on,  and 
even  crush  on  their  slouched  hats ;  and  stand  there  awaiting 
the  issue.1  Thick  buzz  among  them,  between  majority  and 
minority  of  Couvrez-vous,  Ee  couvrez-vous  (Hats  off,  Hats  on)  ! 
To  which  his  Majesty  puts  end,  by  taking  off  his  own  royal 
hat  again. 

The  session  terminates  without  further  accident  or  omen 
than  this ;  with  which,  significantly  enough,  Erance  has  opened 
her  States-General. 


1  Histoire  Parlementaire  (i.  356).  Mercier  :  Nouveau  Paris,  &c. 


BOOK  V. 


THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  I. 

INERTIA. 

That  exasperated  France,  in  this  same  National  Assembly 
of  hers,  has  got  something,  nay,  something  great,  momentous, 
indispensable,  cannot  be  doubted ;  yet  still  the  question  were : 
Specially  what  ?  A  question  hard  to  solve,  even  for  calm 
on-lookers  at  this  distance ;  wholly  .insoluble  to  actors  in  the 
middle  of  it.  The  States-General,  created  and  conflated  by 
the  passionate  effort  of  the  whole  Nation,  is  there  as  a  thing 
high  and  lifted  up.  Hope,  jubilating,  cries  aloud  that  it  will 
prove  a  miraculous  Brazen  Serpent  in  the  Wilderness  ;  whereon 
whosoever  looks,  with  faith  and  obedience,  shall  be  healed  of 
all  woes  and  serpent-bites. 

We  may  answer,  it  will  at  least  prove  a  symbolic  Banner ; 
round  which  the  exasperated  complaining  Twenty-five  Mil¬ 
lions,  otherwise  isolated  and  without  power,  may  rally,  and 
work  —  what  it  is  in  them  to  work.  If  battle  must  be  the 
work,  as  one  cannot  help  expecting,  then  shall  it  be  a  battle- 
banner  (say,  an  Italian  Gonfalon,  in  its  old  Republican  Car- 
roccio)  ;  and  shall  tower  up,  car-borne,  shining  in  the  wind  : 
and  with  iron  tongue  peal  forth  many  a  signal.  A  thing  of 
prime  necessity ;  which  whether  in  the  van  or  in  the  centre, 
whether  leading  or  led  and  driven,  must  do  the  fighting  mul¬ 
titude  incalculable  services.  For  a  season,  while  it  floats 
in  the  very  front,  nay  as  it  were  stands  solitary  there,  wait- 


148  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  Y. 

1789. 

ing  whether  force  will  gather  round  it,  this  same  National 
Carroccio ,  and  the  signal-peals  it  rings,  are  a  main  object 
with  us. 

The  omen  of  the  “slouch-hats  Qlapt  on”  shows  the  Com¬ 
mons  Deputies  to  have  made  up  their  minds  on  one  thing: 
that  neither  Noblesse  nor  Clergy  shall  have  precedence  of 
them;  hardly  even  Majesty  itself.  To  such  length  has  the 
Contrat  Social ,  and  force  of  public  opinion,  carried  us.  For 
what  is  Majesty  but  the  Delegate  of  the  Nation ;  delegated, 
and  bargained  with  (even  rather  tightly),  —  in  some  very  sin¬ 
gular  posture  of  affairs,  which  Jean  Jacques  has  not  fixed  the 
date  of  ? 

Coming  therefore  into  their  Hall,  on  the  morrow,  an  in¬ 
organic  mass  of  Six  Hundred  individuals,  these  Commons 
Deputies  perceive,  without  terror,  that  they  have  it  all  to 
themselves.  Their  Hall  is  also  the  Grand  or  general  Hall  for 
all  the  Three  Orders.  But  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  it  would 
seem,  have  retired  to  their  two  separate  Apartments,  or 
Halls ;  and  are  there  “  verifying  their  powers,”  not  in  a  con¬ 
joint  but  in  a  separate  capacity.  They  are  to  constitute  two 
separate,  perhaps  separately  voting  Orders,  then  ?  It  is  as  if 
both  Noblesse  and  Clergy  had  silently  taken  for  granted  that 
they  already  were  such !  Two  Orders  against  one  ;  and  so 
the  Third  Order  to  be  left  in  a  perpetual  minority  ? 

Much  may  remain  unfixed;  but  the  negative  of  that  is  a 
thing  fixed:  in  the  slouch-hatted  heads,  in  the  French  Na¬ 
tion’s  head.  Double  representation,  and  all  else  hitherto 
gained,  were  otherwise  futile,  null.  Doubtless,  the  “  powers 
must  be  verified ;  ”  —  doubtless,  the  Commission,  the  electoral 
Documents  of  your  Deputy  must  be  inspected  by  his  brother 
Deputies,  and.  found  valid :  it  is  the  preliminary  of  all.  Nei¬ 
ther  is  this  question,  of  doing  it  separately  or  doing  it  con¬ 
jointly,  a  vital  one  :  but  if  it  lead  to  such  ?  It  must  be  re¬ 
sisted  ;  wise  was  that  maxim,  Resist  the  beginnings !  Nay 
were  resistance  unadvisable,  even  dangerous,  yet  surely  pause 
is  very  natural :  pause,  with  Twenty-five  Millions  behind  you, 
may  become  resistance  enough.  —  The  inorganic  mass  of  Com- 


Chap.  I.  INERTIA.  149 

May  6-15. 

mons  Deputies  will  restrict  itself  to  a  “  system  of  inertia/’ 
and  for  the  present  remain  inorganic. 

Such  method,  recommendable  alike  to  sagacity  and  to 
timidity,  do  the  Commons  Deputies  adopt ;  and,  not  without 
adroitness,  and  with  ever  more  tenacity,  they  persist  in  it, 
day  after  day,  week  after  week.  For  six  weeks  their  history 
is  of  the  kind  named  barren ;  which  indeed,  as  Philosophy 
knows,  is  often  the  fruitfulest  of  all.  These  were  their  still 
creation-days  ;  wherein  they  sat  incubating !  In  fact,  what 
they  did  was  to  do  nothing,  in  a  judicious  manner.  Daily  the 
inorganic  body  reassembles  ;  regrets  that  they  cannot  get  or¬ 
ganization,  “  verification  of  powers  in  common,”  and  begin 
regenerating  France.  Headlong  motions  may  be  made,  but 
let  such  be  repressed ;  inertia  alone  is  at  once  unpunishable 
and  unconquerable. 

Cunning  must  be  met  by  cunning;  proud  pretension  by 
inertia,  by  a  low  tone  of  patriotic  sorrow ;  low,  but  incurable, 
unalterable.  Wise  as  serpents  ;  harmless  as  doves  :  what  a 
spectacle  for  France  !  Six  Hundred  inorganic  individuals,  es¬ 
sential  for  its  regeneration  and  salvation,  sit  there,  on  their 
elliptic  benches,  longing  passionately  towards  life  ;  in  painful 
durance  ;  like  souls  waiting  to  be  born.  Speeches  are  spoken ; 
eloquent ;  audible  within  doors  and  without.  Mind  agitates 
itself  against  mind;  the  Nation  looks  on  with  ever  deeper 
interest.  Thus  do  the  Commons  Deputies  sit  incubating. 

There  are  private  conclaves,  supper-parties,  consultations, 
Breton  Club,  Club  of  Viroflay ;  germs  of  many  Clubs.  Wholly 
an  element  of  confused  noise,  dimness,  angry  heat ;  —  wherein, 
however,  the  Eros-egg,  kept  at  the  fit  temperature,  may  hover 
safe,  unbroken  till  it  be  hatched.  In  your  Mouniers,  Malou- 
ets,  Lechapeliers  is  science  sufficient  for  that ;  fervor  in  your 
Barnaves,  Rabauts.  At  times  shall  come  an  inspiration  from 
royal  Mirabeau :  he  is  nowise  yet  recognized  as  royal ;  nay 
he  was  “ groaned  at,”  when  his  name  was  first  mentioned: 
but  he  is  struggling  towards  recognition. 

In  the  course  of  the  week,  the  Commons  having  called  their 
Eldest  to  the  chair,  and  furnished  him  with  young  stronger- 
lunged  assistants,  —  can  speak  articulately ;  and,  in  audible 


150  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

lamentable  words,  declare,  as  we  said,  that  they  are  an  inor¬ 
ganic  body,  longing  to  become  organic.  Letters  arrive ;  but 
an  inorganic  body  cannot  open  letters  ;  they  lie  on  the  table 
unopened.  The  Eldest  may  at  most  procure  for  himself  some 
kind  of  List  or  Muster-roll,  to  take  the  votes  by ;  and  wait 
what  will  betide.  Noblesse  and  Clergy  are  all  elsewhere  : 
however,  an  eager  pujblic  crowds  all  galleries  and  vacancies  ; 
which  is  some  comfort.  With  effort,  it  is  determined,  not 
that  a  Deputation  shall  be  sent,  —  for  how  can  an  inorganic 
body  send  deputations  ?  —  but  that  certain  individual  Com¬ 
mons  Members  shall,  in  an  accidental  way,  stroll  into  the 
Clergy  Chamber,  and  then  into  the  Noblesse  one  ;  and  mention 
there,  as  a  thing  they  have  happened  to  observe,  that  the 
Commons  seem  to  be  sitting  waiting  for  them,  in  order  to 
verify  their  powers.  That  is  the  wiser  method ! 

The  Clergy,  among  whom  are  such  a  multitude  of  Undig¬ 
nified,  of  mere  Commons  in  Curates’  frocks,  depute  instant 
respectful  answer  that  they  are,  and  will  now  more  than  ever 
be,  in  deepest  study  as  to  that  very  matter.  Contrariwise 
the  Noblesse,  in  cavalier  attitude,  reply,  after  four  days,  that 
they,  for  their  part,  are  all  verified  and  constituted;  which, 
they  had  trusted,  the  Commons  also  were ;  such  separate  veri¬ 
fication  being  clearly  the  proper  constitutional  wisdom-of- 
ancestors  method  ;  —  as  they  the  Noblesse  will  have  much 
pleasure  in  demonstrating  by  a  Commission  of  their  number, 
if  the  Commons  will  meet  them,  Commission  against  Commis¬ 
sion  !  Directly  in  the  rear  of  which  comes  a  deputation  of 
Clergy,  reiterating,  in  their  insidious  conciliatory  way,  the 
same  proposal.  Here,  then,  is  a  complexity :  what  will  wise 
Commons  say  to  this  ? 

Warily,  inertly,  the  wise  Commons,  considering  that  they 
are,  if  not  a  French  Third  Estate,  at  least  an  Aggregate  of 
individuals  pretending  to  some  title  of  that  kind,  determine, 
after  talking  on  it  five  days,  to  name  such  a  Commission,  — 
though,  as  it  were,  with  proviso  not  to  be  convinced  :  a  sixth 
day  is  taken  up  in  naming  it ;  a  seventh  and  an  eighth  day 
in  getting  the  forms  of  meeting,  place,  hour  and  the  like, 
settled :  so  that  it  is  not  till  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  May 


INERTIA. 


151 


Chap.  I. 

May  16-26. 

that  Noblesse  Commission  first  meets  Commons  Commission, 
Clergy  acting  as  Conciliators ;  and  begins  the  impossible  task 
of  convincing  it.  One  other  meeting,  on  the  25tli,  will  suf¬ 
fice  :  the  Commons  are  inconvincible,  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy 
irrefragably  convincing ;  the  Commissions  retire  ;  each  Order 
persisting  in  its  first  pretensions.1 

Thus  have  three  weeks  passed.  For  three  weeks,  the  Third- 
Estate  Carroccio ,  with  far^seen  Gonfalon,  has  stood  stock-still, 
flouting  the  wind ;  waiting  what  force  would  gather  round  it. 

Fancy  can  conceive  the  feeling  of  the  Court;  and  how 
counsel  met  counsel,  and  loud-sounding  inanity  whirled  in 
that  distracted  vortex,  where  wisdom  could  not  dwell.  Your 
cunningly  devised  Taxing-Machine  has  been  got  together; 
set  up  with  incredible  labor ;  and  stands  there,  its  three 
pieces  in  contact ;  its  two  fly-wheels  of  Noblesse  and  Clergy, 
its  huge  working-wheel  of  Tiers  Etat.  The  two  fly-wheels 
whirl  in  the  softest  manner ;  but,  prodigious  to  look  upon, 
the  huge  working- wheel  hangs  motionless,  refuses  to  stir ! 
The  cunningest  engineers  are  at  fault.  How  will  it  work, 
when  it  does  begin  ?  Fearfully,  my  Friends ;  and  to  many 
purposes  ;  but  to  gather  taxes,  or  grind  court-meal,  one  may 
apprehend,  never.  Could  we  but  have  continued  gathering 
taxes  by  hand !  Messeigneurs  d’ Artois,  Conti,  Conde  (named 
Court  Triumvirate),  they  of  the  anti-democratic  Memoire  au 
Eoi,  has  not  their  foreboding  proved  true  ?  They  may  wave 
reproachfully  their  high  heads ;  they  may  beat  their  poor 
brains  ;  but  the  cunningest  engineers  can  do  nothing.  Necker 
himself,  were  he  even  listened  to,  begins  to  look  blue.  The 
only  thing  one  sees  advisable  is  to  bring  up  soldiers.  New 
regiments,  two,  and  a  battalion  of  a  third,  have  already 
reached  Paris ;  others  shall  get  in  march.  Good  were  it,  in 
all  circumstances,  to  have  troops  within  reach ;  good  that  the 
command  w'ere  in  sure  hands.  Let  Broglie  be  appointed ; 
old  Marshal  Duke  de  Broglie ;  veteran  disciplinarian,  of  a 
firm  drill-sergeant  morality,  such  as  may  be  depended  on. 

For,  alas,  neither  are  the  Clergy,  or  the  very  Noblesse  what 

1  Reported  Debates,  6th  May  to  1st  June,  1789  (fn  IJistoire  Parlemcntaire, 
i.  379-422). 


152  THE  THIRD  ESTATE,  Book  V. 

1789. 

they  should  be  ;  and  might  be,  when  so  menaced  from  with¬ 
out  :  entire,  undivided  within.  The  Noblesse,  indeed,  have 
their  Catiline  or  Crispin  D’Espremenil,  dusky-glowing,  all  in 
renegade  heat ;  their  boisterous  Barrel-Mirabeau ;  but  also  they 
have  their  Lafayettes,  Liancourts,  Lameths ;  above  all,  their 
D’Orleans,  now  cut  forever  from  his  Court-moorings,  and  mus¬ 
ing  drowsily  of  high  and  highest  sea-prizes  (for  is  not  he  too 
a  son  of  Henri  Quatre,  and  partial  potential  Heir- Apparent  ?) 

—  on  his  voyage  towards  Chaos.  From  the  Clergy  again,  so 
numerous  are  the  Cures,  actual  deserters  have  run  over :  two 
small  parties ;  in  the  second  party  Cure  Gregoire.  Nay  there 
is  talk  of  a  whole  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  of  them  about  to 
desert  in  mass,  and  only  restrained  by  an  Archbishop  of  Paris. 
It  seems  a  losing  game. 

But  judge  if  France,  if  Paris  sat  idle,  all  this  while !  Ad¬ 
dresses  from  far  and  near  flow  in:  for  our  Commons  have 
now  grown  organic  enough  to  open  letters.  Or  indeed  to 
cavil  at  them  !  Thus  poor  Marquis  de  Breze,  Supreme  Usher, 
Master  of  Ceremonies,  or  whatever  his  title  was,  writing 
about  this  time  on  some  ceremonial  matter,  sees  no  harm  in 
winding  up  with  a  “  Monsieur,  yours  with  sincere  attach¬ 
ment/’  —  “  To  whom  does  it  address  itself,  this  sincere  attach¬ 
ment  ?  ”  inquires  Mirabeau.  “  To  the  Dean  of  the  Tiers  Etat.” 

—  “  There  is  no  man  in  France  entitled  to  write  that,”  rejoins 
he  ;  whereat  the  Galleries  and  the  World  will  not  be  kept 
from  applauding.1  Poor  De  Breze !  These  Commons  have  a 
still  older  grudge  at  him ;  nor  has  he  yet  done  with  them. 

In  another  way,  Mirabeau  has  had  to  protest  against  the 
quick  suppression  of  his  Newspaper,  Journal  of  the  States- 
General ;  —  and  to  continue  it  under  a  new  name.  In  which 
act  of  valor,  the  Paris  Electors,  still  busy  redacting  their 
Cahier,  could  not  but  support  him,  by  Address  to  his  Majesty : 
they  claim  utmost  “  provisory  freedom  of  the  press ;  ”  they 
have  spoken  even  about  demolishing  the  Bastille,  and  erect¬ 
ing  a  Bronze  Patriot  King  on  the  site  !  —  These  are  the 
rich  Burghers :  but  now  consider  how  it  went,  for  example, 
with  such  loose  miscellany,  now  all  grown  eleutheromaniac, 
1  Moniteur  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  405). 


Chap.  I.  INERTIA.  153 

May  *27-June  17. 

of  Loungers,  Prowlers,  social  Nondescripts  (and  the  distilled 
Rascality  of  our  Planet),  as  whirls  forever  in  the  Palais 
Royal;  or  what  low  infinite  groan,  fast  changing  into  a 
.  growl,  conies  from  Saint-Antoine,  and  the  Twenty-five  Mil¬ 
lions  in  danger  of  starvation  ! 

There  is  the  indisputablest  scarcity  of  corn ;  —  be  it  Aris¬ 
tocrat-plot,  D’Orleans-plot,  of  this  year ;  or  drought  and  hail 
of  last  year  :  in  city  and  province,  the  poor  man  looks  deso¬ 
lately  towards  a  nameless  lot.  And  this  States-General,  that 
could  make  us  an  age  of  gold,  is  forced  to  stand  motionless ; 
cannot  get  its  powers  verified  !  All  industry  necessarily  lan¬ 
guishes,  if  it  be  not  that  of  making  motions. 

In  the  Palais  Royal  there  has  been  erected,  apparently  by 
subscription,  a  kind  of  Wooden  Tent  (eri  planches  de  bois)  ;  1  — 
most  convenient ;  where  select  patriotism  can  now  redact  reso¬ 
lutions,  deliver  harangues,  with  comfort,  let  the  weather  be 
as  it  will.  Lively  is  that  Satan-at-Home !  On  his  table,  on 
his  chair,  in  every  cafe ,  stands  a  patriotic  orator ;  a  crowd 
round  him  within ;  a  crowd  listening  from  without,  open- 
mouthed,  through  open  door  and  window ;  with  “  thunders  of 
applause  for  every  sentiment  of  more  than  common  hardiness.” 
In  Monsieur  Dessein’s  Pamphlet-shop,  close  by,  you  cannot 
without  strong  elbowing  get  to  the  counter :  every  hour  pro¬ 
duces  its  pamphlet,  or  litter  of  pamphlets ;  “  there  were  thir¬ 
teen  to-day,  sixteen  yesterday,  ninety-two  last  week.”  2  Think 
of  Tyranny  and  Scarcity ;  Fervid-eloquence,  Rumor,  Pam¬ 
phleteering  ;  Societe  Publicole ,  Breton  Club,  Enraged  Club ; 
—  and  whether  every  tap-room,  coffee-room,  social  reunion, 
accidental  street-group,  over  wide  Prance,  was  not  an  Enraged 
Club ! 

To  all  which  the  Commons  Deputies  can  only  listen  with  a 
sublime  inertia  of  sorrow ;  reduced  to  busy  themselves  “  with 
their  internal  police.”  Surer  position  no  Deputies  ever  occu¬ 
pied  ;  if  they  keep  it  with  skill.  Let  not  the  temperature 
rise  too  high ;  break  not  the  Eros-egg  till  it  be  hatched,  till 
it  break  itself !  An  eager  public  crowds  all  Galleries  and  va¬ 
cancies  ;  “  cannot  be  restrained  from  applauding.”  The  two 

1  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  429.  2  Arthur  Young:  Travels,  i.  104. 


154 


THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  Y. 

1789. 

Privileged  Orders,  the  Noblesse  all  verified  and  constituted, 
may  look  on  with  what  face  they  will :  not  without  a  secret 
tremor  of  heart.  The  Clergy,  always  acting  the  part  of  con¬ 
ciliators,  make  a  clutch  at  the  Galleries,  and  the  popularity 
there ;  and  miss  it.  Deputation  of  them  arrives,  with  dolo¬ 
rous  message  about  the  “  dearth  of  grains,”  and  the  necessity 
there  is  of  casting  aside  vain  formalities,  and  deliberating  on 
this.  An  insidious  proposal ;  which,  however,  the  Commons 
(moved  thereto  by  sea-green  Robespierre)  dexterously  accept 
as  a  sort  of  hint,  or  even  pledge,  that  the  Clergy  will  forth¬ 
with  come  ovet1  to  them,  constitute  the  States-General,  and  so 
cheapen  grains ! 1  —  Finally,  on  the  27th  day  of  May,  Mira- 
beau,  judging  the  time  now  nearly  come,  proposes  that  “  the 
inertia  cease ;  ”  that,  leaving  the  Noblesse  to  their  own  stiff 
ways,  the  Clergy  be  summoned,  “  in  the  name  of  the  God  of 
Peace,”  to  join  the  Commons,  and  begin.2  To  which  summons 
if  they  turn  a  deaf  ear,  —  we  shall  see  !  Are  not  one  Hundred 
and  Forty-nine  of  them  ready  to  desert  ? 

0  Triumvirate  of  Princes,  new  Garde-des-Sceaux  Barentin, 
thou  Home-Secretary  Breteuil,  Duchess  Polignac,  and  Queen 
eager  to  listen,  —  what  is  now  to  be  done  ?  This  Third  Estate 
will  get  in  motion,  with  the  force  of  all  France  in  it ;  Clergy- 
machinery  with  Noblesse-machinery,  which  were  to  serve  as 
beautiful  counterbalances  and  drags,  will  be  shamefully  dragged 
after  it,  —  and  take  fire  along  with  it.  What  is  to  be  done  ? 
The  (Eil-de-Boeuf  waxes  more  confused  than  ever.  Whisper 
and  counter-whisper ;  a  very  tempest  of  whispers  !  Leading 
men  from  all  the  Three  Orders  are  nightly  spirited  thither; 
conjurers  many  of  them ;  but  can  they  conjure  this  ?  Necker 
himself  were  now  welcome,  could  he  interfere  to  purpose. 

Let  Necker  interfere,  then ;  •  and  in  the  King’s  name ! 
Happily  that  incendiary  “  God-of-Peace  ”  message  is  not  yet 
answered.  The  Three  Orders  shall  again  have  conferences ; 
under  this  Patriot  Minister  of  theirs,  somewhat  may  be  healed, 
clouted  up  ;  —  we  meanwhile  getting  forward  Swiss  Regiments, 
and  a  “  hundred  pieces  of  field-artillery.”  This  is  what  the 
CEil-de-Boeuf,  for  its  part,  resolves  on. 

1  Bailly:  Mtfmoires,  i.  114.  3  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  413. 


INERTIA. 


155 


Chap.  I. 

May  27-June  17. 

But  as  for  Necker —  Alas,  poor  Necker,  thy  obstinate  Third 
Estate  has  one  first-last  word,  verification  in  common ,  as  the 
pledge  of  voting  and  deliberating  in  common !  Half-way 
proposals,  from  such  a  tried  friend,  they  answer  with  a  stare. 
The  tardy  conferences  speedily  break  up :  the  Third  Estate, 
now  ready  and  resolute,  the  whole  world  backing  it,  returns  to 
its  Hall  of  the  Three  Orders  ;  and  Necker  to  the  CEil-de-Boeuf, 
with  the  character  of  a  disconjured  conjurer  there,  —  fit  only 
for  dismissal.1 

And  so  the  Commons  Deputies  are  at  last  on  their  own 
strength  getting  under  way  ?  Instead  of  Chairman,  or  Dean, 
they  have  now  got  a  President:  Astronomer  Bailly.  Under 
way,  with  a  vengeance !  With  endless  vociferous  and  tem¬ 
perate  eloquence,  borne  on  Newspaper  wings  to  all  lands, 
they  have  now,  on  this  17th  day  of  June,  determined  that 
their  name  is  not  Third  Estate ,  but — National  Assembly! 
They,  then,  are  the  Nation  ?  Triumvirate  of  Princes,  Queen, 
refractory  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  what,  then,  are  you  ?  A 
most  deep  question; — scarcely  answerable  in  living  political 
dialects. 

All  regardless  of  which,  our  new  National  Assembly  pro¬ 
ceeds  to  appoint  a  “  committee  of  subsistences ;  ”  dear  to 
France,  though  it  can  find  little  or  no  grain.  Next,  as  if  our 
National  Assembly  stood  quite  firm  on  its  legs,  —  to  appoint 
“  four  other  standing  committees ;  ”  then  to  settle  the  security 
of  the  National  Debt ;  then  that  of  the  Annual  Taxation :  all 
within  eight-and-forty  hours.  At  such  rate  of  velocity  it  is 
going :  the  conjurers  of  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  may  well  ask  them¬ 
selves,  Whither  ? 


1  Debates,  1st  to  17th  June,  1789  (in  Histoire  Pctrlementaire,  i.  422-478). 


156 


THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 


Book  V. 
1789. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MERCURY  DE  BREZE. 

Now  surely  were  the  time  for  a  “god  from  the  machine;” 
there  is  a  nodus  worthy  of  one.  The  only  question  is,  Which 
god  ?  Shall  it  be  Mars  de  Broglie,  with  his  hundred  pieces 
of  cannon?  —  Not  yet,  answers  prudence;  so  soft,  irresolute 
is  King  Louis.  Let  it  be  Messenger  Mercury,  our  Supreme 
Usher  de  Breze ! 

On  the  morrow,  which  is  the  20th  of* June,  these  Hundred 
and  Forty-nine  false  Curates,  no  longer  restrainable  by  his 
Grace  of  Paris,  will  desert  in  a  body ;  let  De  Breze  intervene, 
and  produce  —  closed  doors!  Not  only  shall  there  be  Royal 
Session,  in  that  Salle-des-Menus ;  but  no  meeting,  nor  work¬ 
ing  (except  by  carpenters),  till  then.  Your  Third  Estate, 
self-styled  “National  Assembly,”  shall  suddenly  see  itself 
extruded  from  its  Hall,  by  carpenters,  in  this  dexterous  way ; 
and  reduced  to  do  nothing,  not  even  to  meet,  or  articulately 
lament,  —  till  Majesty,  with  Seance  Royale  and  new  miracles, 
be  ready !  In  this  manner  shall  De  Breze,  as  Mercury  ex 
machina,  intervene ;  and,  if  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  mistake  not, 
work  deliverance  from  the  nodus. 

Of  poor  De  Breze  we  can  remark  that  he  has  yet  prospered 
in  none  of  his  dealings  with  these  Commons.  Five  weeks 
ago,  when  they  kissed  the  hand  of  Majesty,  the  mode  he 
took  got  nothing  but  censure;  and  then  his  “sincere  attach¬ 
ment,”  how  was  it  scornfully  whiffed  aside  !  Before  supper, 
this  night,  he  writes  to  President  Bailly,  a  new  Letter,  to  be 
delivered  shortly  after  dawn  to-morrow,  in  the  King’s  name. 
Which  Letter,  however,  Bailly,  in  the  pride  of  office,  will 
merely  crush  together  into  his  pocket,  like  a  bill  he  does  not 
mean  to  pay. 


MERCURY  DE  BREZE. 


157 


Chap.  II. 

J  une  20. 

Accordingly  on  Saturday  morning  the  20th  of  June,  shrill¬ 
sounding  heralds  proclaim,  through  the  streets  of  Versailles, 
that  there  is  to  be  Seance  Roy  ale  next  Monday;  and  no  meet¬ 
ing  of  the  States-General  till  then.  And  yet,  we  observe, 
President  Bailly,  in  sound  of  this,  and  with  De  Breze’s  Letter 
in  his  pocket,  is  proceeding,  with  National  Assembly  at  his 
heels,  to  the  accustomed  Salle-des-Menus ;  as  if  De  Breze  and 
heralds  were  mere  wind.  It  is  shut,  this  Salle ;  occupied  by 
Gardes  Fra^aises.  u  Where  is  your  Captain  ?  ”  The  Captain 
shows  his  royal  order  :  workmen,  he  is  grieved  to  say,  are  all 
busy  setting  up  the  platform  for  his  Majesty’s  Seance ;  most 
unfortunately,  no  admission ;  admission,  at  furthest,  for  Presi¬ 
dent  and  Secretaries  to  bring  away  papers,  which  the  joiners 
might  destroy  !  —  President  Bailly  enters  with  Secretaries ; 
and  returns  bearing  papers  :  alas,  within  doors,  instead  of  pa¬ 
triotic  eloquence,  there  is  now  no  noise  but  hammering,  saw¬ 
ing,  and  operative  screeching  and  rumbling  !  A  profanation 
without  parallel. 

The  Deputies  stand  grouped  on  the  Paris  Road,  on  this 
umbrageous  Avenue  de  Versailles ;  complaining  aloud  of  the 
indignity  done  them.  Courtiers,  it  is  supposed,  look  from 
their  windows,  and  giggle.  The  morning  is  none  of  the  com- 
fortablest :  raw ;  it  is  even  drizzling  a  little.1  But  all  travellers 
pause ;  patriot  gallery-men,  miscellaneous  spectators  increase 
the  groups.  Wild  counsels  alternate.  Some  desperate  Depu¬ 
ties  propose  to  go  and  hold  session  on  the  great  outer  Staircase 
at  Marly,  under  the  King’s  windows  ;  for  his  Majesty,  it  seems,  . 
has  driven  over  thither.  Others  talk  of  making  the  Chateau 
Forecourt,  what  they  call  Place  d’Armes,  a  Runnymede  and 
new  Champ  de  Mai  of  free  Frenchmen :  nay  of  awakening,  to 
sounds  of  indignant  Patriotism,  the  echoes  of  the  G3il-de-Boeuf 
itself.  — Notice  is  given  that  President  Bailly,  aided  by  judi¬ 
cious  Guillotin  and  others,  has  found  place  in  the  Tennis-Court 
of  the  Rue  St.  Francois.  Thither,  in  long-drawn  files,  hoarse- 
jingling,  like  cranes  on  wing,  the  Commons  Deputies,  angrily 
wend. 

Strange  sight  was  this  in  the  Rue  St.  Francis,  Vieux  Ver- 

1  Bailly:  moires,  i.  185-206. 


158  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

sailles  !  A  naked  Tennis-Court,  as  the  Pictures  of  that  time 
still  give  it :  four  walls  ;  naked,  except  aloft  some  poor  wooden 
penthouse,  or  roofed  spectators’-gallery,  hanging  round  them : 
—  on  the  floor  not  now  an  idle  teeheeing,  a  snapping  of  balls 
and  rackets;  but  the  bellowing  din  of  an  indignant  National 
Representation,  scandalously  exiled  hither  !  However,  a  cloud 
of  witnesses  looks  down  on  them,  from  wooden  penthouse, 
from  wall-top,  from  adjoining  roof  and  chimney  ;  rolls  towards 
them  from  all  quarters,  with  passionate  spoken  blessings. 
Some  table  can  be  procured  to  write  on ;  some  chair,  if  not  to 
sit  on,  then  to  stand  on.  The  Secretaries  undo  their  tapes ; 
Bailly  has  constituted  the  Assembly. 

Experienced  Mounier,  not  wholly  new  to  such  things,  in 
Parlementary  revolts,  which  he  has  seen  or  heard  of,  thinks 
that  it  were  well,  in  these  lamentable  threatening  circum¬ 
stances,  to  unite  themselves  by  an  Oath.  —  Universal  acclama¬ 
tion,  as  from  smouldering  bosoms  getting  vent !  The  Oath  is 
redacted;  pronounced  aloud  by  President  Bailly,  —  and  indeed 
in  such  a  sonorous  tone,  that  the  cloud  of  witnesses,  even 
outdoors,  hear  it,  and  bellow  response  to  it.  Six  hundred 
right-hands  rise  with  President  Bailly’s,  to  take  God  above  to 
witness  that  they  will  not  separate  for  man  below,  but  will 
meet  in  all  places,  under  all  circumstances,  wheresoever  two  or 
three  can  get  together,  till  they  have  made  the  Constitution. 
Made  the  Constitution,  Friends  !  That  is  a  long  task.  Six 
hundred  hands,  meanwhile,  will  sign  as  they  have  sworn:  six 
hundred  save  one  ;  one  Loyalist  Abdiel,  still  visible  by  this 
sole  light-point,  and  namable,  poor  “  M.  Martin  d’Auch,  from 
Castelnaudary,  in  Languedoc.”  Him  they  permit  to  sign  or 
signify  refusal ;  they  even  save  him  from  the  cloud  of  wit¬ 
nesses,  by  declaring  “  his  head  deranged.”  At  four  o’clock, 
the  signatures  are  all  appended ;  new  meeting  is  fixed  for 
Monday  morning,  earlier  than  the  hour  of  the  Royal  Session  ; 
that  our  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  Clerical  deserters  be  not 
balked;  we  will  meet  at  the  Recollets  Church  or  elsewhere, 
in  hope  that  our  Hundred  and  Forty-nine,  will  join  us  ;  —  and 
now  it  is  time  to  go  to  dinner. 

This,  then,  is  the  Session  of  the  Tennis-Court,  famed  Seance 


Chap.  II.  MERCURY  DE  BREZE.  159 

June  22-23. 

du  Jeu  de  Paume  ;  the  fame  of  which  has  gone  forth  to  all 
lands.  This  is  Mercurius  de  Breze’s  appearance  as  Pens 
ex  machind ;  this  is  the  fruit  it  brings  !  The  giggle  of  Cour¬ 
tiers  in  the  Versailles  Avenue  has  already  died  into  gaunt 
silence.  Did  the  distracted  Court,  with  Garde-des-Sceaux 
Barentin,  Triumvirate  and  Company,  imagine  that  they  could 
scatter  six  hundred  National  Deputies,  big  with  a  National 
Constitution,  like  as  much  barn-door  poultry,  big  with  next  to 
nothing,  —  by  the  white  or  black  rod  of  a  Supreme  U sher  ? 
Barn-door  poultry  fly  cackling:  but  National  Deputies  turn 
round,  lion-faced ;  and,  with  uplifted  right-hand,  swear  an  Oath 
that  makes  the  four  corners  of  France  tremble. 

President  Bailly  has  covered  himself  with  honor ;  which 
shall  become  rewards.  The  National  Assembly  is  now  doubly 
and  trebly  the  Nation’s  Assembly;  not  militant,  martyred 
only,  but  triumphant ;  insulted,  and  which  could  not  be  in¬ 
sulted.  Paris  disembogues  itself  once  more,  to  witness,  “  with 
grim  looks,”  the  Seance  Royale : 1  which,  by  a  new  felicity,  is 
postponed  till  Tuesday.  The  Hundred  and  Forty-nine,  and 
even  with  Bishops  among  them,  all  in  processional  mass,  have 
had  free  leisure  to  march  off,  and  solemnly  join  the  Commons 
sitting  waiting  in  their  Church.  The  Commons  welcomed  them 
with  shouts,  with  embracings,  nay  with  tears ; 2  for  it  is  grow¬ 
ing  a  life-and-death  matter  now. 

As  for  the  Seance  itself,  the  Carpenters  seem  to  have  accom¬ 
plished  their  platform ;  but  all  else  remains  unaccomplished. 
Futile,  we  may  say  fatal,  was  the  whole  matter.  King  Louis 
enters,  through  seas  of  people,  all  grim-silent,  angry  with  many 
things,  —  for  it  is  a  bitter  rain  too.  Enters,  to  a  Third  Estate, 
likewise  grim-silent ;  which  has  been  wetted  waiting  under 
mean  porches,  at  back-doors,  while  Court  and  Privileged  were 
entering  by  the  front.  King  and  Garde-des-Sceaux  (there  is  no 
Necker  visible)  make  known,  not  without  long-windedness, 
the  determinations  of  the  royal  breast.  The  Three  Orders 
shall  vote  separately.  On  the  other  hand,  France  may  look 
for  considerable  constitutional  blessings  ;  as  specified  in  these 

1  See  Arthur  Young  ( Travels ,  i.  115-118) ;  A.  Lameth,  &c. 

2  Dumont :  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  c.  4. 


160 


THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

Five-and-tliirty  Articles,1  which.  Garde-des-Sceaux  is  waxing 
hoarse  with  reading.  Which  Five-and-thirty  Articles,  adds  his 
Majesty  again  rising,  if  the  Three  Orders  most  unfortunately 
cannot  agree  together  to  effect  them,  I  myself  will  effect :  “seul 
je  feral  le  bien  de  mes  peuples,”  —  which  being  interpreted  may 
signify,  You,  contentious  Deputies  of  the  States-General,  have 
probably  not  long  to  be  here !  But,  in  fine,  all  shall  now  with¬ 
draw  for  this  day ;  and  meet  again,  each  Order  in  its  separate 
place,  to-morrow  morning,  for  despatch  of  business.  This  is 
the  determination  of  the  royal  breast :  pithy  and  clear.  And 
herewith  King,  retinue,  Noblesse,  majority  of  Clergy  file  out, 
as  if  the  whole  matter  were  satisfactorily  completed. 

These  file  out  j  through  grim-silent  seas  of  people.  Only 
the  Commons  Deputies  file  not  out ;  but  stand  there  in  gloomy 
silence,  uncertain  what  they  shall  do.  One  man  of  them  is 
certain ;  one  man  of  them  discerns  and  dares  !  It  is  now  that 
King  Mirabeau  starts  to  the  Tribune,  and  lifts  up  his  lion-voice. 
Verily  a  word  in  season ;  for,  in  such  scenes,  the  moment  is 
the  mother  of  ages  !  Had  not  Gabriel  Honore  been  there,  — 
one  can  well  fancy,  how  the'  Commons  Deputies,  affrighted  at 
the  perils  which  now  yawned  dim  all  round  them,  and  waxing 
ever  paler  in  each  other’s  paleness,  might  very  naturally,  one 
after  one,  have  glided  off;  and  the  whole  course  of  European 
History  have  been  different ! 

But  he  is  there.  List  to  the  brool  of  that  royal  forest-voice  ; 
sorrowful,  low ;  fast  swelling  to  a  roar !  Eyes  kindle  at  the 
glance  of  his  eye: — National  Deputies  were  missioned  by  a 
Nation ;  they  have  sworn  an  Oath ;  they  —  But  lo  !  while  the 
lion’s  voice  roars  loudest,  what  Apparition  is  this  ?  Appari¬ 
tion  of  Mercurius  de  Breze,  muttering  somewhat! — “ Speak 
out,”  cry  several.  —  “  Messieurs,”  shrills  De  Breze,  repeating 
himself,  u  You  have  heard  the  King’s  orders  !  ”  —  Mirabeau 
glares  on  him  with  fire-flashing  face ;  shakes  the  black  lion’s 
mane  :  “  Yes,  Monsieur,  we  have  heard  what  the  King  was  ad¬ 
vised  to  say :  and  you,  who  cannot  be  the  interpreter  of  his 
orders  to  the  States-General ;  you,  who  have  neither  place  nor 
right  of  speech  here ;  you  are  not  the  man  to  remind  us  of  it. 

1  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  13. 


Chap.  II.  MERCURY  DE  BREZE.  161 

June  22-23. 

Go,  Monsieur,  tell  those  who  sent  you  that  we  are  here  by  the 
will  of  the  People,  and  that  nothing  but  the  force  of  bayonets 
shall  send  us  hence  !  ”  1  And  poor  De  Breze  shivers  forth  from 
the  National  Assembly  ; —  and  also  (if  it  be  not  in  one  faintest 
glimmer,  months  later)  finally  from  the  page  of  History !  — 

Hapless  De  Breze;  doomed  to  survive  long  ages,  in  men’s 
memory,  in  this  faint  way,  with  tremulant  white  rod !  He  was 
true  to  Etiquette,  which  was  his  Faith  here  below ;  a  martyr 
to  respect  of  persons.  Short  woollen  cloaks  could  not  kiss 
Majesty’s  hand  as  long  velvet  ones  did.  Nay  lately,  when  the 
poor  little  Dauphin  lay  dead,  and  some  ceremonial  Visitation 
came,  was  he  not  punctual  to  announce  it  even  to  the  Dau¬ 
phin’s  dead  body :  “  Monseigneur,  a  Deputation  of  the  States- 
General !  ” 2  Sunt  lachrymce  rerum. 

But  what  does  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  now  when  De  Breze  shivers 
back  thither  ?  Despatch  that  same  force  of  bayonets  ?  Not 
so  :  the  seas  of  people  still  hang  multitudinous,  intent  on  what 
is  passing ;  nay  rush  and  roll,  loud-billowing,  into  the  Courts 
of  the  Chateau  itself;  for  a  report  has  risen  that  Necker  is 
to  be  dismissed.  Worst  of  all,  the  Gardes  Fran^aises  seem 
indisposed  to  act :  “  two  Companies  of  them  do  not  fire  when 
ordered !  ”  3  Necker,  for  not  being  at  the  Seance ,  shall  be 
shouted  for,  carried  home  in  triumph;  and  must  not  be  dis¬ 
missed.  His  Grace  of  Paris,  on  the  other  hand,  has  to  fly 
with  broken  coach-panels,  and  owe  his  life  to  furious  driving. 
The  Gar des-du-  Corps  (Body-Guards),  which  you  were  drawing 
out,  had  better  be  drawn  in  again.4  There  is  no  sending  of 
bayonets  to  be  thought  of. 

Instead  of  soldiers,  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  sends  —  carpenters,  to 
take  down  the  platform.  Ineffectual  shift !  In  few  instants, 
the  very  carpenters  cease  wrenching  and  knocking  at  their 
platform ;  standing  on  it,  hammer  in  hand,  and  listen  open- 
mouthed.5  The  Third  Estate  is  decreeing  that  it  is,  was,  and 
will  be,  nothing  but  a  National  Assembly ;  and  now,  moreover, 
an  inviolable  one,  all  members  of  it  inviolable :  “  infamous, 

1  Moniteur  (Hist.  Pari.  ii.  22).  2  Montgaillard,  ii.  38. 

3  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  26.  4  Bailly,  i.  217. 

5  Histoire  Parlementaire ,  ii.  23. 


VOL.  in. 


11 


162  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  Y. 

1789. 

traitorous,  towards  the  Nation,  and  guilty  of  capital  crime,  is 
any  person,  body-corporate,  tribunal,  court  or  commission  that 
now  or  henceforth,  during  the  present  session  or  after  it,  shall 
dare  to  pursue,  interrogate,  arrest,  or  cause  to  be  arrested, 
detain  or  cause  to  be  detained,  any  ”  &c.  &c.  “  on  whose  'part 
soever  the  same  be  commanded.”  1  Which  done,  one  can  wind 
up  with  this  comfortable  reflection  from  Abbe  Sieyes  :  “  Mes¬ 
sieurs,  you  are  to-day  what  you  were  yesterday.” 

Courtiers  may  shriek ;  but  it  is,  and  remains,  even  so.  Their 
well-charged  explosion  has  exploded  through  the  touch-hole ; 
covering  themselves  with  scorches,  confusion,  and  unseemly 
soot !  Poor  Triumvirate,  poor  Queen ;  and  above  all,  poor 
Queen’s  Husband,  who  means  well,  had  he  any  fixed  meaning ! 
Folly  is  that  wisdom  which  is  wise  only  behindhand.  Few 
months  ago  these  Thirty-five  Concessions  had  filled  France 
with  a  rejoicing,  which  might  have  lasted  for  several  years. 
Now  it  is  unavailing,  the  very  mention  of  it  slighted;  Majesty’s 
express  orders  set  at  naught. 

All  France  is  in  a  roar ;  a  sea  of  persons,  estimated  at  “  ten 
thousand,”  whirls  “  all  this  day  in  the  Palais  Royal.”  2  The 
remaining  Clergy,  and  likewise  some  Forty-eight  Noblesse, 
D’ Orleans  among  them,  have  now  forthwith  gone  over  to  the 
victorious  Commons ;  —  by  whom,  as  is  natural,  they  are 
received  “with  acclamation.” 

The  Third  Estate  triumphs  ;  Versailles  Town  shouting  round 
it ;  ten  thousand  whirling  all  day  in  the  Palais  Royal ;  and 
all  France  standing  a-tiptoe,  not  unlike  whirling !  Let  the 
(Eil-de-Boeuf  look  to  it.  As  for  King  Louis,  he  will  swallow 
his  injuries ;  will  temporize,  keep  silence  ;  will  at  all  costs 
have  present  peace.  It  was  Tuesday  the  23d  of  June,  when 
he  spoke  that  peremptory  royal  mandate ;  and  the  week  is  not 
done  till  he  has  written  to  the  remaining  obstinate  Noblesse, 
that  they  also  must  oblige  him,  and  give  in.  D’Espremenil 
rages  his  last ;  Barrel  Mirabeau  “  breaks  his  sword,”  making 
a  vow,  —  which  he  might  as  well  have  kept.  The  “  Triple 
Family  ”  is  now  therefore  complete ;  the  third  erring  brother, 
the  Noblesse,  having  joined  it ;  —  erring  but  pardonable ; 

1  Montgaillard,  ii.  47.  2  Arthur  Young,  i.  119. 


Chap.  ill.  BROGLIE  THE  WAR-GOD.  163 

July  1-11. 

soothed,  so  far  as  possible,  by  sweet  eloquence  from  President 
Bailly. 

So  triumphs  the  Third  Estate ;  and  States-General  are  be¬ 
come  National  Assembly ;  and  all  France  may  sing  Te  Deum. 
By  wise  inertia,  and  wise  cessation  of  inertia,  great  victory 
has  been  gained.  It  is  the  last  night  of  June :  all  night  you 
meet  nothing  on  the  streets  of  Versailles  but  “men  running 
with  torches,”  with  shouts  and  jubilation.  From  the  2d  of 
May  when  they  kissed  the  hand  of  Majesty,  to  this  30th 
of  June  when  men  run  with  torches,  we  count  eight  weeks  and 
three  days.  For  eight  weeks  the  National  Carroccio  has  stood 
far-seen,  ringing  many  a  signal;  and,  so  much  having  now 
gathered  round  it,  may  hope  to  stand. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BROGLIE  THE  WAR-GOD. 

The  Court  feels  indignant  that  it  is  conquered  ;  but  what 
then?  Another  time  it  will  do  better.  Mercury  descended 
in  vain ;  now  has  the  time  come  for  Mars.  —  The  gods  of 
the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  have  withdrawn  into  the  darkness  of  their 
cloudy  Ida ;  and  sit  there,  shaping  and  forging  what  may 
be  needful,  be  it  “billets  of  a  new  National  Bank,”  munitions 
of  war,  or  things  forever  inscrutable  to  men. 

Accordingly,  what  means  this  “  apparatus  of  troops  ”  ?  The 
National  Assembly  can  get  no  furtherance  for  its  Committee 
of  Subsistences ;  can  hear  only  that,  at  Paris,  the  Bakers’ 
shops  are  besieged ;  that,  in  the  Provinces,  people  are  “  living 
on  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass.”  But  on  all  highways  there 
hover  dust-clouds,  with  the  march  of  regiments,  with  the 
trailing  of  cannon :  foreign  Pandours,  of  fierce  aspect ;  Salis- 
Samade,  Esterhazy,  Royal-Allemand ;  so  many  of  them  for¬ 
eign  ;  to  the  number  of  thirty  thousand,  —  which  fear  can 
magnify  to  fifty:  all  wending  towards  Paris  and  Versailles! 


164  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

Already,  on  the  heights  of  Montmartre,  is  a  digging  and 
delving;  too  like  a  scarping  and  trenching.  The  effluence 
of  Paris  is  arrested  Versailles-ward  by  a  barrier  of  cannon 
at  Sevres  Bridge.  Prom  the  Queen’s  Mews,  cannon  stand 
pointed  on  the  National- Assembly  Hall  itself.  The  National 
Assembly  has  its  very  slumbers  broken  by  the  tramp  of  sol¬ 
diery,  swarming  and  defiling,  endless,  or  seemingly  endless, 
all  round  those  spaces,  at  dead  of  night,  “  without  drum-music, 
without  audible  word  of  command.”  1  What  means  it  ? 

Shall  eight,  or  even  shall  twelve  Deputies,  our  Mirabeaus, 
Barnaves  at  the  head  of  them,  be  whirled  suddenly  to  the 
Castle  of  Ham;  the  rest  ignominiously  dispersed  to  the 
winds  ?  No  National  Assembly  can  make  the  Constitution 
with  cannon  levelled  on  it  from  the  Queen’s  Mews  !  What 
means  this  reticence  of  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf,  broken  only  by 
nods  and  shrugs  ?  In  the  mystery  of  that  cloudy  Ida,  what 
is  it  that  they  forge  and  shape  ?  —  Such  questions  must  dis¬ 
tracted  Patriotism  keep  asking,  and  receive  no  answer  but  an 
echo. 

Questions  and  echo  bad  enough  in  themselves  :  — and  now, 
above  all,  while  the  hungry  food-year,  which  runs  from  August 
to  August,  is  getting  older ;  becoming  more  and  more  a  fam¬ 
ine  year  !  With  “  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass,”  Brigands 
may  actually  collect;  and,  in  crowds,  at  farm  and  mansion, 
howl,  angrily,  Food!  Food!  It  is  in  vain  to  send  soldiers 
against  them  :  at  sight  of  soldiers  they  disperse,  they  vanish 
as  under  ground  ;  then  directly  reassemble  elsewhere  for  new 
tumult  and  plunder.  Frightful  enough  to  look  upon ;  but 
what  to  hear  of,  reverberated  through  Twenty-five  Millions 
of  suspicious  minds !  Brigands  and  Broglie,  open  Conflagra¬ 
tion,  preternatural  Rumor  are  driving  mad  most  hearts  in 
France.  What  will  the  issue  of  these  things  be  ? 

At  Marseilles,  many  weeks  ago,  the  Townsmen  have  taken 
arms  ;  for  “  suppressing  of  Brigands,”  and  other  purposes  :  the 
military  Commandant  may  make  of  it  what  he  will.  Else¬ 
where,  everywhere,  could  not  the  like  be  done  ?  Dubious,  on 
the  distracted  Patriot  Imagination,  wavers,  as  a  last  deliver- 
1  A.  Lameth  :  Assemblee  Constituante,  i.  41. 


Chap.  III.  BROGLIE  THE  WAR-GOD.  165 

July  1-11. 

ance,  some  foreshadow  of  a  National  Guard.  But  conceive, 
above  all,  the  Wooden  Tent  in  the  Palais  Royal !  A  universal 
hubbub  there,  as  of  dissolving  worlds  :  there  loudest  bellows 
the  mad,  mad-making  voice  of  Rumor  ;  there  sharpest  gazes 
Suspicion  into  the  pale  dim  World-Whirlpool ;  discerning 
shapes  and  phantasms :  imminent  bloodthirsty  Regiments 
camped  on  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  dispersed  National  Assem¬ 
bly  ;  red-hot  cannon-balls  (to  burn  Paris)  :  — the  mad  War-god 
and  Bellona’s  sounding  thongs.  To  the  calmest  man  it  is 
becoming  too  plain  that  battle  is  inevitable. 

Inevitable,  silently  nod  Messeigneurs  and  Broglie :  Inevi¬ 
table  and  brief !  Your  National  Assembly,  stopped  short 
in  its  Constitutional  labors,  may  fatigue  the  royal  ear  with 
addresses  and  remonstrances  :  those  cannon  of  ours  stand  duly 
levelled;  those  troops  are  here.  The  King’s  Declaration, 
with  its  Thirty-five  too  generous  Articles,  was  spoken,  was 
not  listened  to  ;  but  remains  yet  unrevoked :  he  himself  shall 
effect  it,  seul  il  fera ! 

As  for  Broglie,  he  has  his  headquarters  at  Versailles,  all 
as  in  a  seat  of  war :  clerks  writing ;  significant  staff-officers, 
inclined  to  taciturnity ;  plumed  aides-de-camp,  scouts,  order¬ 
lies  flying  or  hovering.  He  himself  looks  forth,  important, 
impenetrable ;  listens  to  Besenval  Commandant  of  Paris,  and 
his  warning  and  earnest  counsels  (for  he  has  come  out  re¬ 
peatedly  on  purpose),  with  a  silent  smile.1  The  Parisians 
resist  ?  scornfully  cry  Messeigneurs.  As  a  meal-mob  may  ! 
They  have  sat  quiet,  these  five  generations,  submitting  to  all. 
Their  Mercier  declared,  in  these  very  years,  that  a  Parisian 
revolt  was  henceforth  “  impossible.” 2  Stand  by  the  royal 
Declaration,  of  the  Twenty-third  of  June.  The  Nobles  of 
France,  valorous,  chivalrous  as  of  old,  will  rally  round  us  with 
one  heart ;  —  and  as  for  this  which  you  call  Third  Estate,  and 
which  we  call  canaille  of  unwashed  Sansculottes,  of  Patelins, 
Scribblers,  factious  Spouters, — brave  Broglie,  “with  a  whiff 
of  grape-shot  (salve  de  canons)”  if  need  be,  will  give  quick 
account  of  it.  Thus  reason  they :  on  their  cloudy  Ida  ;  hidden 
from  men,  —  men  also  hidden  from  them. 

1  Besenval,  iii.  398.  2  Mercier :  Tableau  de  Paris,  vi.  22. 


166  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

Good  is  grape-shot,  Messeigneurs,  on  one  condition :  that 
the  shooter  also  were  made  of  metal !  But  unfortunately  he 
is  made  of  flesh ;  under  his  buffs  and  bandoleers,  your  hired 
shooter  has  instincts,  feelings,  even  a  kind  of  thought.  It  is 
his  kindred,  bone  of  his  bone,  this  same  canaille  that  shall 
be  whiffed ;  he  has  brothers  in  it,  a  father  and  mother,  —  liv¬ 
ing  on  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass.  His  very  doxy,  not  yet 
“dead  i’  the  spital,”  drives  him  into  military  heterodoxy; 
declares  that  if  he  shed  Patriot  blood,  he  shall  be  accursed 
among  men.  The  soldier,  who  has  seen  his  pay  stolen  by 
rapacious  Foulons,  his  blood  wasted  by  Soubises,  Pompadours, 
and  the  gates  of  promotion  shut  inexorably  on  him  if  he  were 
not  born  noble,  —  is  himself  not  without  griefs  against  you. 
Your  cause  is  not  the  soldier’s  cause  ;  but,  as  would  seem,  your 
own  only,  and  no  other  god’s  nor  man’s. 

For  example,  the  world  may  have  heard  how,  at  Bethune 
lately,  when  there  rose  some  “riot  about  grains,”  of  which 
sort  there  are  so  many,  and  the  soldiers  stood  drawn  out, 
and  the  word  “Fire!”  was  given, — not  a  trigger  stirred; 
only  the  butts  of  all  muskets  rattled  angrily  against  the 
ground ;  and  the  soldiers  stood  glooming,  with  a  mixed  expres¬ 
sion  of  countenance  ;  —  till  clutched  “  each  under  the  arm  of  a 
patriot  householder,”  they  were  all  hurried  off,  in  this  manner, 
to  be  treated  and  caressed,  and  have  their  pay  increased  by 
subscription ! 1 

Neither  have  the  Gardes  Franchises,  the  best  regiment 
of  the  line,  shown  any  promptitude  for  street-firing  lately. 
They  returned  grumbling  from  Reveillon’s ;  and  have  not 
burnt  a  single  cartridge  since  ;  nay,  as  we  saw,  not  even  when 
bid.  A  dangerous  humor  dwells  in  these  Gardes.  Notable 
men  too,  in  their  way  !  Valadi  the  Pythagorean  was,  at  one 
time,  an  officer  of  theirs.  Nay,  in  the  ranks,  under  the  three- 
cornered  felt  and  cockade,  what  hard  heads  may  there  not  be, 
and  reflections  going  on,  —  unknown  to  the  public  !  One  head 
of  the  hardest  we  do  now  discern  there :  on  the  shoulders  of 
a  certain  Sergeant  Hoche.  Lazare  Hoche,  that  is  the  name 
of  him ;  he  used  to  be  about  the  Versailles  Royal  Stables, 

1  Histoire  Parlementaire . 


Chap.  III.  BROGLIE  THE  WAR-GOD.  167 

July  1-11. 

nephew  of  a  poor  herbwoman  :  a  handy  lad ;  exceedingly  ad¬ 
dicted  to  reading.  He  is  now  Sergeant  Hoehe,  and  can  rise 
no  farther ;  he  lays  out  his  pay  in  rushlights,  and  cheap  edi¬ 
tions,  of  books.1 

On  the  whole,  the  best  seems  to  be :  Consign  these  Gardes 
Frangaises  to  their  Barracks.  So  Besenval  thinks,  and  orders. 
Consigned  to  their  barracks,  the  Gardes  Frangaises  do  but 
form  a  “  Secret  Association,”  an  Engagement  not  to  act  against 
the  National  Assembly.  Debauched  by  Yaladi  the  Pythago¬ 
rean  ;  debauched  by  money  and  women  !  cry  Besenval  and 
innumerable  others.  Debauched  by  what  you  will,  or  in  need 
of  no  debauching,  behold  them,  long  files  of  them,  their  con¬ 
signment  broken,  arrive,  headed  by  their  Sergeants,  on  the 
26th  day  of  June,  at  the  Palais  Royal !  Welcomed  with  vivats, 
with  presents,  and  a  pledge  of  patriot  liquor ;  embracing  and 
embraced ;  declaring  in  words  that  the  cause  of  France  is 
their  cause  !  Next  day  and  the  following  days  the  like. 
What  is  singular  too,  except  this  patriot  humor,  and  breaking 
of  their  consignment,  they  behave  otherwise  with  “the  most 
rigorous  accuracy.”  2 

They  are  growing  questionable,  these  Gardes  !  Eleven  ring¬ 
leaders  of  them  are  put  in  the  Abbaye  Prison.  It  boots  not 
in  the  least.  The  imprisoned  Eleven  have  only,  “  by  the  hand 
of  an  individual,”  to  drop,  towards  nightfall,  a  line  in  the 
Cafe  de  Foy ;  where  Patriotism  harangues  loudest  on  its  table. 
“  Two  hundred  young  persons,  soon  waxing  to  four  thousand,” 
with  fit  crowbars,  roll  towards  the  Abbaye  ;  smite  asunder  the 
needful  doors ;  and  bear  out  their  Eleven,  with  other  military 
victims :  —  to  supper  in  the  Palais  Royal  Garden ;  to  board, 
and  lodging  “  in  camp-beds,  in  the  Theatre-des-Varietes ;  ” 
other  national  Prytaneum  as  yet  not  being  in  readiness.  Most 
deliberate !  Nay  so  punctual  were  these  young  persons,  that 
finding  one  military  victim  to  have  been  imprisoned  for  real 
civil  crime,  they  returned  him  to  his  cell,  with  protest. 

WThy  new  military  force  was  not  called  out  ?  New  mili¬ 
tary  force  was  called  out.  New  military  force  did  arrive,  full 

1  Dictionnaire  des  Hommes  Marquans,  Londres  (Paris),  1800,  ii.  198. 

2  Besenval,  iii.  394-396. 


168  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

gallop,  with  drawn  sabre :  but  the  people  gently  “  laid  hold  of 
their  bridles ;  ”  the  dragoons  sheathed  their  swords  ;  lifted 
their  caps  by  way  of  salute,  and  sat  like  mere  statues  of  dra¬ 
goons,  —  except  indeed  that  a  drop  of  liquor  being  brought 
them,  they  “drank  to  the  King  and  Nation  with  the  greatest 
cordiality.”  1 

And  now,  ask  in  return,  why  Messeigneurs  and  Broglie  the 
great  god  of  war,  on  seeing  these  things,  did  not  pause,  and 
take  some  other  course,  any  other  course  ?  Unhappily,  as  we 
said,  they  could  see  nothing.  Pride,  which  goes  before  a  fall-; 
wrath,  if  not  reasonable,  yet  pardonable,  most  natural,  had 
hardened  their  hearts  and  heated  their  heads :  so,  with  imbe¬ 
cility  and  violence  (ill-matched  pair),  they  rush  to  seek  their 
hour.  All  Regiments  are  not  Gardes  Frant^aises,  or  debauched 
by  Yaladi  the  Pythagorean :  let  fresh  undebauched  Regiments 
come  up ;  let  Royal- Allemand,  Salis-Samade,  Swiss  Chateau- 
Vieux  come  up, — which  can  fight,  but  can  hardly  speak  ex¬ 
cept  in  German  gutturals ;  let  soldiers  march,  and  highways 
thunder  with  artillery-wagons  :  Majesty  has  a  new  Royal  Ses¬ 
sion  to  hold,  —  and  miracles  to  work  there  !  The  whiff  of 
grape-shot  can,  if  needful,  become  a  blast  and  tempest. 

In  which  circumstances,  before  the  red-hot  balls  begin  rain¬ 
ing,  may  not  the  Hundred-and-twenty  Paris  Electors,  though 
their  Caliier  is  long  since  finished,  see  good  to  meet  again 
daily,  as  an  “  Electoral  Club  ”  ?  They  meet  first  “  in  a  Tav¬ 
ern  ;  ”  —  where  “  a  large  wedding-party  ”  cheerfully  gives  place 
to  them.2  But  latterly  they  meet  in  the  Hotel-de-Yille,  in  the 
Town-hall  itself.  Flesselles,  Provost  of  Merchants,  with  his 
Four  Echevins  (, Scabins ,  Assessors),  could  not  prevent  it ; 
such  was  the  force  of  public  opinion.  He,  with  his  Echevins, 
and  the  Six-and-twenty  Town-Councillors,  all  appointed  from 
Above,  may  well  sit  silent  there,  in  their  long  gowns  ;  and 
consider,  with  awed  eye,  wdiat  prelude  this  is  of  convulsion 
coming  from  Below,  and  how  they  themselves  shall  fare  in 
that ! 

1  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  32. 

2  Dusaulx  :  Prise  de  la  Bastille  ( Collection  des  Md moires,  par  Berville  et 
Barriere,  Paris,  1821),  p.  269. 


Chap.  IV. 
July  12. 


TO  ARMS! 


169 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TO  ARMS  ! 

So  hangs  it,  dubious,  fateful,  in  the  sultry  days  of  July.  It 
is  the  passionate  printed  advice  of  M.  Marat,  to  abstain,  of 
all  things,  from  violence.1  Nevertheless  the  hungry  poor  are 
already  burning  Town  Barriers,  where  Tribute  on  eatables  is 
levied  ;  getting  clamorous  for  food. 

The  twelfth  July  morning  is  Sunday :  the  streets  are  all 
placarded  with  an  enormous-sized  De  par  le  Roi,  “  inviting 
peaceable  citizens  to  remain  within  doors,”  to  feel  no  alarm, 
to  gather  in  no  crowd.  Why  so  ?  What  mean  these  “  pla¬ 
cards  of  enormous  size  ”  ?  Above  all,  what  means  this  clatter 
of  military  ;  dragoons,  hussars,  rattling  in  from  all  points  of 
the  compass  towards  the  Place  Louis  Quinze  ;  with  a  staid 
gravity  of  face,  though  saluted  with  mere  nicknames,  hootings 
and  even  missiles.2  Besenval  is  with  them.  Swiss  Guards 
of  his  are  already  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  with  four  pieces  of 
artillery. 

Have  the  destroyers  descended  on  us,  then  ?  Erom  the 
Bridge  of  Sevres  to  utmost  Vincennes,  from  Saint-Denis  to 
the  Champ-de-Mars,  we  are  begirt !  Alarm,  of  the  vague  un¬ 
known,  is  in  every  heart.  The  Palais  Royal  has  become  a 
place  of  awe-struck  interjections,  silent  shakings  of  the  head : 
one  can  fancy  with  what  dolorous  stound  the  noontide  cannon 
(which  the  Sun  fires  at  crossing  of  his  meridian)  went  off 
there ;  bodeful,  like  an  inarticulate  voice  of  doom.3  Are  these 
troops  verily  come  out  “  against  Brigands  ”  ?  Where  are  the 
Brigands  ?  What  mystery  is  in  the  wind  ?  —  Hark  !  a  human 

1  Avis  an  Peuple,  ou  les  Ministres  devoiles,  1st  July,  1789  (in  Ilistoire  Parle - 
mentaire ,  ii.  37). 

2  Besenval,  iii.  411. 


8  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  81. 


170  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

voice  reporting  articulately  the  Job’s-news  :  Necker,  People’s 
Minister ,  Savior  of  France ,  is  dismissed.  Impossible  !  incredi¬ 
ble  !  Treasonous  to  the  public  peace  !  Such  a  voice  ought  to 
be  choked  in  the  water-works  j  1  —  had  not  the  news-bringer 
quickly  fled.  Nevertheless,  friends,  make  of  it  what  you  will, 
the  news  is  true.  Necker  is  gone.  Necker  hies  northward 
incessantly,  in  obedient  secrecy,  since  yesternight.  We  have 
a  new  Ministry:  Broglie  the  War-god;  Aristocrat  Breteuil; 
Foulon  who  said  the  people  might  eat  grass  ! 

Rumor,  therefore,  shall  arise ;  in  the  Palais  Royal,  and  in 
broad  France.  Paleness  sits  on  every  face ;  confused  tremor 
and  fremescence  ;  waxing  into  thunder-peals,  of  Fury  stirred 
on  by  Fear. 

But  see  Camille  Desmoulins,  from  the  Cafe  de  Foy,  rush¬ 
ing  out,  sibylline  in  face ;  his  hair  streaming,  in  each  hand 
a  pistol !  He  springs  to  a  table :  the  Police  satellites  are 
eying  him ;  alive  they  shall  not  take  him,  not  they  alive  him 
alive.  This  time  he  speaks  without  stammering :  —  Friends  ! 
shall  we  die  like  hunted  hares  ?  Like  sheep  hounded  into 
their  pinfold ;  bleating  for  mercy,  where  is  no  mercy,  but 
only  a  whetted  knife  ?  The  hour  is  come ;  the  supreme  hour 
of  Frenchman  and  Man ;  when  Oppressors  are  to  try  conclu¬ 
sions  with  Oppressed ;  and  the  word  is,  swift  Death,  or  Deliv¬ 
erance  forever.  Let  such  hour  be  well-come !  Us,  meseems, 
one  cry  only  befits  :  To  Arms  !  Let  universal  Paris,  universal 
France,  as  with  the  throat  of  the  whirlwind,  sound  only  :  To 
arms  !  —  “  To  arms  !  ”  yell  responsive  the  innumerable  voices ; 
like  one  great  voice,  as  of  a  Demon  yelling  from  the  air: 
for  all  faces  wax  fire-eyed,  all  hearts  burn  up  into  madness. 
In  such,  or  fitter  words,2  does  Camille  evoke  the  Elemental 
Powers,  in  this  great  moment.  —  Friends,  continues  Camille, 
some  rallying-sign !  Cockades  ;  green  ones  ;  —  the  color  of 
Hope  !  —  As  with  the  flight  of  locusts,  these  green  tree-leaves  ; 
green  ribbons  from  the  neighboring  shops ;  all  green  things 

1  HistoireParlementaire,  ii.  81. 

2  Vieux  Cordelier,  par  Camille  Desmoulins,  No.  5  (reprinted  in  Collection  des 
Mdmo ires,  par  Baudouin  Ereres,  Paris,  1825),  p.  81. 


Chap.  IV.  TO  ARMS!  171 

July  12. 

are  snatched,  and  made  cockades  of.  Camille  descends  from 
his  table,  “  stifled  with  embraces,  wetted  with  tears ;  ”  has  a 
bit  of  green  ribbon  handed  him ;  sticks  it  in  his  hat.  And 
now  to  Curtius’  Image-shop  there ;  to  the  Boulevards ;  to  the 
four  winds ;  and  rest  not  till  France  be  on  fire  ! 

France,  so  long  shaken  and  wind-parched,  is  probably  at 
the  right  inflammable  point.  —  As  for  poor  Curtius,  who,  one 
grieves  to  think,  might  be  but  inperfectly  paid,  —  he  cannot 
make  two  words  about  his  Images.  The  Wax-bust  of  Keeker, 
the  Wax-bust  of  D’Orleans,  helpers  of  France  :  these,  covered 
with  crape,  as  in  funeral  procession,  or  after  the  manner  of 
suppliants  appealing  to  Heaven,  to  Earth,  and  Tartarus  itself, 
a  mixed  multitude  bears  off.  For  a  sign !  As  indeed  man, 
with  his  singular  imaginative  faculties,  can  do  little  or  nothing 
without  signs :  thus  Turks  look  to  their  Prophet’s  Banner ; 
also  Osier  Mannikins  have  been  burnt,  and  Keeker’s  Portrait 
has  erewhile  figured,  aloft  on  its  perch. 

In  this  manner  march  they,  a  mixed,  continually  increasing 
multitude ;  armed  with  axes,  staves  and  miscellanea ;  grim, 
many-sounding,  through  the  streets.  Be  all  Theatres  shut; 
let  all  dancing,  on  planked  floor,  or  on  the  natural  greensward, 
cease  !  Instead  of  a  Christian  Sabbath,  and  feast  of  guinguette 
tabernacles,  it  shall  be  a  Sorcerer’s  Sabbath;  and  Paris,  gone 
rabid,  dance,  —  with  the  Fiend  for  piper  ! 

However,  Besenval,  with  horse  and  foot,  is  in  the  Place 
Louis  Quinze.  Mortals  promenading  homewards,  in  the  fall 
of  the  day,  saunter  by,  from  Chaillot  or  Passy,  from  flirtation 
and  a  little  thin  wine ;  with  sadder  step  than  usual.  Will 
the  Bust-Procession  pass  that  way  ?  Behold  it ;  behold  also 
Prince  Lambesc  dash  forth  on  it,  with  his  Royal- Allemands  ! 
Shots  fall,  and  sabre-strokes  ;  Busts  are  hewed  asunder ;  and, 
alas,  also  heads  of  men.  A  sabred  Procession  has  nothing  for 
it  but  to  explode ,  along  what  streets,  alleys,  Tuileries  Avenues 
it  finds  ;  and  disappear.  One  unarmed  man  lies  hewed  down ; 
a  Garde  Fran9aise  by  his  uniform :  bear  him  (or  bear  even 
the  report  of  him)  dead  and  gory  to  his  Barracks ;  —  where 
he  has  comrades  still  alive ! 

But  why  not  now,  victorious  Lambesc,  charge  through  that 


172  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  v. 

1789. 

Tuileries  Garden  itself,  where  the  fugitives  are  vanishing  ? 
Not  show  the  Sunday  promenaders  too,  how  steel  glitters, 
besprent  with  blood ;  that  it  be  told  of,  and  men’s  ears  tingle  ? 
—  Tingle,  alas,  they  did;  but  the  wrong  way.  Victorious 
Lambesc,  in  this  his  second  or  Tuileries  charge,  succeeds  but 
in  overturning  (call  it  not  slashing,  for  he  struck  with  the 
flat  of  his  sword)  one  man,  a  poor  old  schoolmaster,  most 
pacifically  tottering  there ;  and  is  driven  out,  by  barricade  of 
chairs,  by  flights  of  “  bottles  and  glasses,”  by  execrations  in 
bass  voice  and  treble.  Most  delicate  is  the  mob-queller’s 
vocation ;  wherein  Too-much  may  be  as  bad  as  Not-enough. 
For  each  of  these  bass  voices,  and  more  each  treble  voice, 
borne  to  all  parts  of  the  City,  rings  now  nothing  but  distracted 
indignation;  will  ring  all  night.  The  cry,  To  arms!  roars 
tenfold ;  steeples  with  their  metal  storm-voice  boom  out, 
as  the  sun  sinks ;  armorers’  shops  are  broken  open,  plun¬ 
dered;  the  streets  are  a  living  foam-sea,  chafed  by  all  the 
winds. 

Such  issue  came  of  Lambesc’s  charge  on  the  Tuileries  Gar¬ 
den  :  no  striking  of  salutary  terror  into  Chaillot  promenaders  ; 
a  striking  into  broad  wakefulness  of  Frenzy  and  the  three 
Furies,  —  which  otherwise  were  not  asleep !  For  they  lie 
always,  those  subterranean  Eumenides  (fabulous  and  yet  so 
true),  in  the  dullest  existence  of  man ;  —  and  can  dance, 
brandishing  their  dusky  torches,  shaking  their  serpent-liair. 
Lambesc  with  Royal-Allemand  may  ride  to  his  barracks,  with 
curses  for  his  marcliing-music ;  then  ride  back  again,  like  one 
troubled  in  mind  :  vengeful  Gardes  Fra^aises,  sacre ing,  with 
knit  brows,  start  out  on  him,  from  their  barracks  in  the 
Chaussee  d’Anti'n ;  pour  a  volley  into  him  (killing  and  wound¬ 
ing)  ;  which  he  must  not  answer,  but  ride  on.1 

Counsel  dwells  not  under  the  plumed  hat.  If  the  Eume¬ 
nides  awaken,  and  Broglie  has  given  no  orders,  what  can  a 
Besenval  do  ?  When  the  Gardes  Francises,  with  Palais- 
Royal  volunteers,  roll  down,  greedy  of  more  vengeance,  to 
the  Place  Louis  Quinze  itself,  they  find  neither  Besenval, 
Lambesc,  Royal- Allemand,  nor  any  soldier  now  there.  Gone 

1  Weber,  ii.  75-91. 


TO  ARMS! 


173 


Chap.  IV. 
July  12. 


is  military  order.  On  the  far  Eastern  Boulevard,  of  Saint- 
Antoine,  the  (Chasseurs  Normandie  arrive,  dusty,  thirsty,  after 
a  hard  day’s  ride  ;  but  can  find  no  billet-master,  see  no  course 
in  this  City  of  Confusions ;  cannot  get  to  Besenval,  cannot  so 
much  as  discover  where  he  is :  Normandie  must  even  bivouac 
there,  in  its  dust  and  thirst,  —  unless  some  patriot  will  treat 
it  to  a  cup  of  liquor,  with  advices. 

Raging  multitudes  surround  the  Hotel-de-Ville,  crying: 
Arms !  Orders !  The  Six-and-twenty  Town-Councillors,  with 
their  long  gowns,  have  ducked  under  (into  the  raging  chaos) ; 
—  shall  never  emerge  more.  Besenval  is  painfully  wriggling 
himself  out,  to  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  he  must  sit  there  “  in  the 
cruelest  uncertainty  :  ”  courier  after  courier  may  dash  off  for 
Versailles  ;  but  will  bring  back  no  answer,  can  hardly  bring 
himself  back.  Eor  the  roads  are  all  blocked  with  batteries 
and  pickets,  with  floods  of  carriages  arrested  for  examination  : 
such  was  Broglie’s  one  sole  order ;  the  GEil-de-Boeuf,  hearing 
in  the  distance  such  mad  din,  which  sounded  almost  like  in¬ 
vasion,  will  before  all  things  keep  its  own  head  whole.  A 
new  Ministry,  with,  as  it  were,  but  one  foot  in  the  stirrup, 
cannot  take  leaps.  Mad  Paris  is  abandoned  altogether  to 
itself. 


What  a  Paris,  when  the  darkness  fell !  A  European  metro¬ 
politan  City  hurled  suddenly  forth  from  its  old  combinations 
and  arrangements ;  to  crash  tumultuously  together,  seeking 
new.  Use  and  wont  will  now  no  longer  direct  any  man;  each 
man,  with  what  of  originality  he  has,  must  begin  thinking ;  or 
following  those  that  think.  Seven  hundred  thousand  individ¬ 
uals,  on  the  sudden,  find  all  their  old  paths,  old  ways  of  acting 
and  deciding,  vanish  from  under  their  feet.  And  so  there  go 
they,  with  clangor  and  terror,  they  know  not  as  yet  whether 
running,  swimming  or  flying,  —  headlong  into  the  New  Era. 
With  clangor  and  terror  :  from  above,  Broglie  the  war-god  im¬ 
pends,  preternatural,  with  his  red-hot  cannon-balls ;  and  from 
below,  a  preternatural  Brigand-world  menaces  with  dirk  and 
firebrand:  madness  rules  the  hour. 

Happily,  in  place  of  the  submerged  Twenty-six,  the  Elec- 


174 


THE  THIKD  EST 


Book  V. 
1789. 


toral  Club  is  gathering;  has  declared  itself  a  “Provisional 
Municipality.”  On  the  morrow,  it  will  get  Provost  Flesselles, 
with  an  Echevin  or  two,  to  give  help  in  many  things.  For 
the  present  it  decrees  one  most  essential  thing :  that  forth¬ 
with  a  “  Parisian  Militia  ”  shall  be  enrolled.  Depart,  ye 
heads  of  Districts,  to  labor  in  this  great  work;  while  we  here, 
in  Permanent  Committee,  sit  alert.  Let  fencible  men,  each 
party  in  its  own  range  of  streets,  keep  watch  and  ward,  all 
night.  Let  Paris  court  a  little  fever-sleep;  confused  by  such 
fever-dreams,  of  “  violent  motions  at  the  Palais  Royal ;  ”  —  or 
from  time  to  time  start  awake,  and  look  out,  palpitating,  in  its 
nightcap,  at  the  clash  of  discordant  mutually  unintelligible 
Patrols ;  on  the  gleam  of  distant  Barriers,  going  up  all  too 
ruddy  towards  the  vault  of  Night.1 


- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  V. 

GIVE  US  ARMS. 

On  Monday  the  huge  City  has  awoke,  not  to  its  week-day 
industry :  to  what  a  different  one  !  The  working  man  has 
become  a  fighting  man ;  has  one  want  only :  that  of  arms. 
The  industry  of  all  crafts  has  paused ;  —  except  it  be  the 
smith’s,  fiercely  hammering  pikes ;  and,  in  a  faint  degree,  the 
kitchener’s,  cooking  off-hand  victuals ;  for  louche  va  toujours. 
Women  too  are  sewing  cockades;  —  not  now  of  green,  which 
being  D’ Artois  color,  the  Hotel-de-Yille  has  had  to  interfere  in 
it ;  but  of  red  and  blue,  our  old  Paris  colors :  these,  once  based 
on  a  ground  of  constitutional  white ,  are  the  famed  Tricolor,  — 
which  (if  Prophecy  err  not)  “  will  go  round  the  world.” 

All  shops,  unless  it  be  the  Bakers’  and  Vintners’,  are  shut : 
Paris  is  in  the  streets; — rushing,  foaming  like  some  Venice 
wine-glass  into  which  you  had  dropped  poison.  The  tocsin,  by 
order,  is  pealing  madly  from  all  steeples.  Arms,  ye  Elector 


1  Deux  Amis,  i.  267-306. 


175 


Chap.  Y.  GIVE  US  ARMS. 

July  13. 

Municipals ;  thou  Flesselles  with  thy  Echevins,  give  us  arms  ! 
Flesselles  gives  what  he  can :  fallacious,  perhaps  insidious 
promises  of  arms  from  Charleville ;  order  to  seek  arms  here, 
order  to  seek  them  there.  The  new  Municipals  give  what 
they  can ;  some  three  hundred  and  sixty  indifferent  firelocks, 
the  equipment  of  the  City-Watch:  “a  man  in  wooden  shoes, 
and  without  coat,  directly  clutches  one  of  them,  and  mounts 
guard.”  Also  as  hinted,  an  order  to  all  Smiths  to  make  pikes 
with  their  whole  soul. 

Heads  of  Districts  are  in  fervent  consultation  ;  subordinate 
Patriotism  roams  distracted,  ravenous  for  arms.  Hitherto  at 
the  Hotel-de-Ville  was  only  such  modicum  of  indifferent  fire¬ 
locks  as  we  have  seen.  At  the  so-called  Arsenal,  there  lies 
nothing  but  rust,  rubbish  and  saltpetre,  —  overlooked  too  by 
the  guns  of  the  Bastille.  His  Majesty’s  Depository,  what  they 
call  Garde-Meuble,  is  forced  and  ransacked  :  tapestries  enough, 
and  gauderies  ;  but  of  serviceable  fighting-gear  small  stock  ! 
Two  silver-mounted  cannons  there  are  ;  an  ancient  gift  from 
his  Majesty  of  Siam  to  Louis  Fourteenth  :  gilt  sword  of  the 
Good  Henri ;  antique  Chivalry  arms  and  armor.  These,  and 
such  as  these,  a  necessitous  Patriotism  snatches  greedily,  for 
want  of  better.  The  Siamese  cannons  go  trundling,  on  an 
errand  they  were  not  meant  for.  Among  the  indifferent  fire¬ 
locks  are  seen  tourney-lances  ;  the  princely  helm  and  hauberk 
glittering  amid  ill-hatted  heads,  —  as  in  a  time  when  all  times 
and  their  possessions  are  suddenly  sent  jumbling ! 

At  the  Maison  de  Saint-Lazare,  Lazar-House  once,  now  a 
Correction-House  with  Priests,  there  was  no  trace  of  arms ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  corn,  plainly  to  a  culpable  extent.  Out 
with  it,  to  market ;  in  this  scarcity  of  grains  !  —  Heavens,  will 
“  fifty-two  carts,”  in  long  row,  hardly  carry  it  to  the  Halle-aux- 
Bleds  ?  Well,  truly,  ye  reverend  Fathers,  was  your  pantry 
filled ;  fat  are  your  larders  ;  over-generous  your  wine-bins,  ye 
plotting  exasperators  of  the  Poor ;  traitorous  forestalled  of 
bread ! 

Vain  is  protesting,  entreaty  on  bare  knees  :  the  House  of 
Saint-Lazarus  has  that  in  it  which  comes  not  out  by  protest¬ 
ing.  Behold,  how,  from  every  window,  it  vomits :  mere  tor- 


176  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  Y. 

1789. 

rents  of  furniture,  of  bellowing  and  hurly-burly ;  —  the  cellars 
also  leaking  wine.  Till,  as  was  natural,  smoke  rose,  —  kin¬ 
dled,  some  say,  by  the  desperate  Saint-Lazaristes  themselves, 
desperate  of  other  riddance  ;  and  the  Establishment  vanished 
from  this  world  in  flame.  Remark  nevertheless  that  “  a  thief  ” 
(set  on  or  not  by  Aristocrats),  being  detected  there,  is  “  in¬ 
stantly  hanged.” 

Look  also  at  the  Chatelet  Prison.  The  Debtors’  Prison  of 
*  La  Force  is  broken  from  without ;  and  they  that  sat  in  bond¬ 
age  to  Aristocrats  go  free  :  hearing  of  which  the  Felons  at  the 
Chatelet  do  likewise  “  dig  up  their  pavements,”  and  stand  on 
the  offensive  ;  with  the  best  prospects,  —  had  not  Patriotism, 
passing  that  way,  “fired  a  volley”  into  the  Felon  world;  and 
crushed  it  down  again  under  hatches.  Patriotism  consorts 
not  with  thieving  and  felony  :  surely  also  Punishment,  this 
day,  hitches  (if  she  still  hitch)  after  Crime,  with  frightful 
shoes-of-swiftness !  “  Some  score  or  two  ”  of  wretched  per¬ 

sons,  found  prostrate  with  drink  in  the  cellars  of  that  Saint- 
Lazare,  are  indignantly  haled  to  prison ;  the  Jailer  has  no 
room ;  whereupon,  other  place  of  security  not  suggesting  it¬ 
self,  it  is  written,  “on  les  pendit,  they  hanged  them.”  1  Brief 
is  the  word ;  not  without  significance,  be  it  true  or  untrue ! 

In  such  circumstances,  the  Aristocrat,  the  unpatriotic  rich 
man  is  packing  up  for  departure.  But  he  shall  not  get  de¬ 
parted.  A  wooden-shod  force  has  seized  all  Barriers,  burnt  or 
not :  all  that  enters,  all  that  seeks  to  issue,  is  stopped  there, 
and  dragged  to  the  Hotel-de-Ville :  coaches,  tumbrils,  plate, 
furniture,  “many  meal-sacks,”  in  time  even  “  flocks  and  herds  ” 
encumber  the  Place  de  Greve.2 

And  so  it  roars,  and  rages,  and  brays  ;  drums  beating,  stee¬ 
ples  pealing ;  criers  rushing  with  hand-bells  :  “  Oyez,  oyez, 
All  men  to  their  Districts  to  be  enrolled !  ”  The  Districts 
have  met  in  gardens,  open  squares ;  are  getting  marshalled 
into  volunteer  troops.  No  red-hot  ball  has  yet  fallen  from 
Besenval’s  Camp ;  on  the  contrary,  Deserters  with  their  arms 

1  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  96. 

2  Dusaulx  :  Prise  de  la  Bastille ,  p.  290. 


177 


Chap.  Y.  GIVE  US  ARMS. 

July  13. 

are  continually  dropping  in  :  nay  now,  joy  of  joys,  at  two  in 
the  afternoon,  the  Gardes  Francises,  being  ordered  to  Saint- 
Denis,  and  flatly  declining,  have  come  over  in  a  body  !  It  is 
a  fact  worth  many.  Three  thousand  six  hundred  of  the  best 
fighting  men,  with  complete  accoutrement ;  with  cannoneers 
even,  and  cannon !  Their  officers  are  left  standing  alone ; 
could  not  so  much  as  succeed  in  “  spiking  the  guns.”  The 
very  Swiss,  it  may  now  be  hoped,  Chateau-Vieux  and  the 
others,  will  have  doubts  about  fighting. 

Our  Parisian  Militia  —  which  some  think  it  were  better  to 
name  National  Guard  —  is  prospering  as  heart  could  wish. 
It  promised  to  be  forty-eight  thousand  ;  but  will  in  few  hours 
double  and  quadruple  that  number  :  invincible,  if  we  had  only 
arms ! 

But  see,  the  promised  Charleville  Boxes,  marked  Artillerie  ! 
Here,  then,  are  arms  enough  ?  —  Conceive  the  blank  face  of 
Patriotism,  when  it  found  them  filled  with  rags,  foul  linen, 
candle-ends,  and  bits  of  wood  !  Provost  of  the  Merchants,  how 
is  this  ?  Neither  at  the  Chartreux  Convent,  whither  we  were 
sent  with  signed  order,  is  there  or  ever  was  there  any  weapon 
of  war.  Nay  here,  in  this  Seine  Boat,  safe  under  tarpaulings 
(had  not  the  nose  of  Patriotism  been  of  the  finest),  are  “five 
thousand-weight  of  gunpowder ;  ”  not  coming  m,  but  surrep¬ 
titiously  going  out !  What  meanest  thou,  Flesselles  ?  7T  is  a 
ticklish  game,  that  of  “  amusing”  us.  Cat  plays  with  captive 
mouse  :  but  mouse  with  enraged  cat,  with  enraged  National 
Tiger  ? 

Meanwhile,  the  faster,  0  ye  black-aproned  Smiths,  smite ; 
with  strong  arm  and  willing  heart.  This  man  and  that,  all 
stroke  from  head  to  heel,  shall  thunder  alternating,  and  ply 
the  great  forge-hammer,  till  stithy  reel  and  ring  again ;  while 
ever  and  anon,  overhead,  booms  the  alarm-cannon,  —  for  the 
City  has  now  got  gunpowder.  Pikes  are  fabricated;  fifty 
thousand  of  them,  in  six-and-thirty  hours  :  judge  whether  the 
Black-aproned  have  been  idle.  Dig  trenches,  unpave  the 
streets,  ye  others,  assiduous,  man  and  maid ;  cram  the  earth 
in  barrel-barricades,  at  each  of  them  a  volunteer  sentry  ;  pile 
the  whinstones  in  window-sills  and  upper  rooms.  Have  scald- 
vol.  in.  12 


178  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

ing  pitch,  at  least  boiling  water  ready,  ye  weak  old  women,  to 
pour  it  and  dash  it  on  Boyal-Allemand,  with  your  old  skinny 
arms  :  your  shrill  curses  along  with  it  will  not  be  wanting  !  — 
Patrols  of  the  new-born  National  Guard,  bearing  torches,  scour 
the  streets,  all  that  night ;  which  otherwise  are  vacant,  yet 
illuminated  in  every  window  by  order.  Strange-looking ;  like 
some  naphtha-lighted  City  of  the  Dead,  with  here  and  there 
a  flight  of  perturbed  Ghosts. 

0  poor  mortals,  how  ye  make  this  Earth  bitter  for  each 
other  j  this  fearful  and  wonderful  Life  fearful  and  horrible ; 
and  Satan  has  his  place  in  all  hearts !  Such  agonies  and 
ragings  and  wailings  ye  have,  and  have  had,  in  all  times  :  —  to 
be  buried  all,  in  so  deep  silence ;  and  the  salt  sea  is  not  swoln 
with  your  tears. 

Great  meanwhile  is  the  moment,  when  tidings  of  Ereedom 
reach  us ;  when  the  long-enthralled  soul,  from  amid  its  chains 
and  squalid  stagnancy,  arises,  were  it  still  only  in  blindness 
and  bewilderment,  and  swears  by  Him  that  made  it,  that  it 
will  be  free !  Eree  ?  Understand  that  well,  it  is  the  deep 
commandment,  dimmer  or  clearer,  of  our  whole  being,  to  be 
free.  Ereedom  is  the  one  purport,  wisely  aimed  at,  or  un¬ 
wisely,  of  all  man’s  struggles,  toilings  and  sufferings,  in  this 
Earth.  Yes,  supreme  is  such  a  moment  (if  thou  have  known 
it)  :  first  vision  as  of  a  flame-girt  Sinai,  in  this  our  waste  Pil¬ 
grimage,  —  which  thenceforth  wants  not  its  pillar  of  cloud  by 
day,  and  pillar  of  fire  by  night !  Something  it  is  even,  —  nay, 
something  considerable,  when  the  chains  have  grown  corrosive , 
poisonous,  —  to  be  free  “  from  oppression  by  our  fellow-man.” 
Forward,  ye  maddened  sons  of  France  ;  be  it  towards  this 
destiny  or  towards  that !  Around  you  is  but  starvation,  false¬ 
hood,  corruption  and  the  clam  of  death.  Where  ye  are  is  no 
abiding. 

Imagination  may,  imperfectly,  figure  how  Commandant  Be- 
senval,  in  the  Champ-de-Mars,  has  worn  out  these  sorrowful 
hours.  Insurrection  raging  all  round ;  his  men  melting  away  ! 
From  Versailles,  to  the  most  pressing  messages,  comes  no  an¬ 
swer  ;  or  once  only  some  vague  word  of  answer  which  is  worse 


GIVE  US  ARMS. 


179 


CnAP.  Y. 
July  13. 


than  none.  A  Council  of  Officers  can  decide  merely  that  there 
is  no  decision :  Colonels  inform  him,  “  weeping/’  that  they 
do  not  think  their  men  will  fight.  Cruel  uncertainty  is  here  : 
war-god  Broglie  sits  yonder,  inaccessible  in  his  Olympus ;  does 
not  descend  terror-clad,  does  not  produce  his  whiff  of  grape- 
shot  ;  sends  no  orders. 

Truly,  in  the  Chateau  of  Versailles  all  seems  mystery :  in 
the  Town  of  Versailles,  were  we  there,  all  is  rumor,  alarm  and 
indignation.  An  august  National  Assembly  sits,  to  appear¬ 
ance,  menaced  with  death ;  endeavoring  to  defy  death.  It 
has  resolved  “that  Necker  carries  with  him  the  regrets  of  the 
Nation.”  It  has  sent  solemn  Deputation  over  to  the  Chateau, 
with  entreaty  to  have  these  troops  withdrawn.  In  vain :  his 
Majesty,  with  a  singular  composure,  invites  us  to  be  busy 
rather  with  our  own  duty,  making  the  Constitution  !  Foreign 
Pandours,  and  such  like,  go  pricking  and  prancing,  with  a 
swashbuckler  air ;  with  an  eye  too  probably  to  the  Salle-des- 
Menus,  —  were  it  not  for  the  “  grim-looking  countenances  ” 
that  crowd  all  avenues  there.1  Be  firm,  ye  National  Senators  ; 
the  cynosure  of  a  firm,  grim-looking  people  ! 

The  august  National  Senators  determine  that  there  shall,  at 
least,  be  Permanent  Session  till  this  thing  end.  Wherein 
however,  consider  that  worthy  Lafranc  de  Pompignan,  our 
new  President,  whom  we  have  named  Bailly’s  successor,  is 
an  old  man,  wearied  with  many  things.  He  is  the  Brother 
of  that  Pompignan  who  meditated  lamentably  on  the  Book  of 
Lamentations :  — 


Savez-vous  pourquoi  Jeremie 
Se  lamentait  toute  sa  vie  ? 

C’est  qu’il  prevoyait 

Que  Pompignan  le  traduirait ! 

Poor  Bishop  Pompignan  withdraws ;  having  got  Lafayette  for 
helper  or  substitute :  this  latter,  as  nocturnal  Vice-President, 
with  a  thin  house  in  disconsolate  humor,  sits  sleepless,  with 
lights  unsnuffed  ;  —  waiting  what  the  hours  will  bring. 

So  at  Versailles.  But  at  Paris,  agitated  Besenval,  before 


1  See  Lameth ;  Ferrieres,  &c. 


180  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

retiring  for  the  night,  has  stept  over  to  old  M.  de  Sombreuil, 
of  the  Hotel-des-Invalides  hard  by.  M.  de  Sombreuil  has, 
what  is  a  great  secret,  some  eight-and-twenty  thousand  stand 
of  muskets  deposited  in  his  cellars  there ;  but  no  trust  in  the 
temper  of  his  Invalides.  This  day,  for  example,  he  sent 
twenty  of  the  fellows  down  to  unscrew  those  muskets ;  lest 
Sedition  might  snatch  at  them  :  but  scarcely,  in  six  hours, 
had  the  twenty  unscrewed  twenty  gunlocks,  or  dogs-heads 
( chiens )  of  locks,  —  each  Invalide  his  dogs-head  !  If  ordered 
to  fire,  they  would,  he  imagines,  turn  their  cannon  against 
himself. 

Unfortunate  old  military  gentlemen,  it  is  your  hour,  not  of 
glory !  Old  Marquis  de  Launay  too,  of  the  Bastille,  has  pulled 
up  his  drawbridges  long  since,  “  and  retired  into  his  interior ;  ” 
with  sentries  walking  on  his  battlements,  under  the  midnight 
sky,  aloft  over  the  glare  of  illuminated  Paris  ;  —  whom  a 
National  Patrol,  passing  that  way,  takes  the  liberty  of  'firing 
at ;  “  seven  shots  towards  twelve  at  night,”  which  do  not  take 
effect.1  This  was  the  13th  day  of  July,  1789 ;  a  worse  day, 
many  said,  than  the  last  13th  was,  when  only  hail  fell  out  of 
Heaven,  not  madness  rose  out  of  Tophet,  ruining  worse  than 
crops  ! 

In  these  same  days,  as  Chronology  will  teach  us,  hot  old 
Marquis  Mirabeau  lies  stricken  down,  at  Argenteuil,  —  not 
within  sound  of  these  alarm-guns  ;  for  he  properly  is  not 
there,  and  only  the  body  of  him  now  lies,  deaf  and  cold  for¬ 
ever.  It  was  on  Saturday  night  that  he,  drawing  his  last  life- 
breaths,  gave  up  the  ghost  there  ;  —  leaving  a  world,  which 
would  never  go  to  his  mind,  now  broken  out,  seemingly,  into 
deliration  and  the  culbute  generate.  What  is  it  to  him,  depart¬ 
ing  elsewhither,  on  his  long  journey  ?  The  old  Chateau  Mira¬ 
beau  stands  silent,  far  off,  on  its  scarped  rock,  in  that  “  gorge 
of  two  windy  valleys  ;  ”  the  pale-fading  spectre  now  of  a  Cha¬ 
teau:  this  huge  World-riot,  and  Prance,  and  the  World  itself, 
fades  also,  like  a  shadow  on  the  great  still  mirror-sea ;  and  all 
shall  be  as  God  wills. 


1  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberie,  i.  312. 


-STORM  AND  VICTORY. 


181 


Chap.  VI. 

July  14. 

Yroung  Mirabeau,  sad  of  heart,  for  he  loved  this  crabbed 
brave  old  Father ;  sad  of  heart,  and  occupied  with  sad  cares, — 
is  withdrawn  from  Public  History.  The  great  crisis  transacts 
itself  without  him.1 


CHAPTER  VI. 

STORM  AND  VICTORY. 

But,  to  the  living  and  the  struggling,  a  new  Fourteenth 
morning  dawns.  Under  all  roofs  of  this  distracted  City  is  the 
nodus  of  a  drama,  not  untragical,  crowding  towards  solution. 
The  bustlings  and  preparings,  the  tremors  and  menaces ;  the 
tears  that  fell  from  old  eyes !  This  day,  my  sons,  ye  shall 
quit  you  like  men.  By  the  memory  of  your  fathers’  wrongs, 
by  the  hope  of  your  children’s  rights !  Tyranny  impends  in 
red  wrath :  help  for  you  is  none,  if  not  in  your  own  right 
hands.  This  day  ye  must  do  or  die. 

From  earliest  light,  a  sleepless  Permanent  Committee  has 
heard  the  old  cry,  now  waxing  almost  frantic,  mutinous  : 
Arms !  Arms  !  Provost  Flesselles,  or  what  traitors  there  are 
among  you,  may  think  of  those  Charleville  Boxes.  A  hun¬ 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  of  us  ;  and  but  the  third  man  fur¬ 
nished  with  so  much  as  a  pike  !  Arms  are  the  one  thing 
needful  :  with  arms  we  are  an  unconquerable  man-defying 
National  Guard ;  without  arms,  a  rabble  to  be  whiffed  with 
grape-shot. 

Happily  the  word  has  arisen,  for  no  secret  can  be  kept,  — 
that  there  lie  muskets  at  the  Hotel-des-Invalides.  Thither  will 
we :  King’s  Procureur  M.  Ethys  de  Corny,  and  whatsoever  of 
authority  a  Permanent  Committee  can  lend,  shall  go  with  us. 
Besenval’s  Camp  is  there ;  perhaps  he  will  not  fire  on  us ;  if 
he  kill  us,  we  shall  but  die. 

Alas,  poor  Besenval,  with  his  troops  melting  away  in  that 
manner,  has  not  the  smallest  humor  to  fire !  At  five  o’clock 

1  Fils  Adoptif  :  Mirabeau,  vi.  1.  1. 


182  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  Y. 

1789. 

this  morning,  as  he  lay  dreaming,  oblivious  in  the  Ecole  Mili- 
taire,  a  “ figure”  stood  suddenly  at  his  bedside;  “with  face 
rather  handsome;  eyes  inflamed,  speech  rapid  and  curt,  air 
audacious :  ”  such  a  figure  drew  Priam’s  curtains  !  The  mes¬ 
sage  and  monition  of  the  figure  was,  that  resistance  would  be 
hopeless  ;  that  if  blood  flowed,  woe  to  him  who  shed  it.  Thus 
spoke  the  figure  :  and  vanished.  “  Withal  there  was  a  kind  of 
eloquence  that  struck  one.”  Besenval  admits  that  he  should 
have  arrested  him,  but  did  not.1  Who  this  figure  with  inflamed 
eyes,  with  speech  rapid  and  curt,  might  be  ?  Besenval  knows, 
but  mentions  not.  Camille  Desmoulins  ?  Pythagorean  Mar¬ 
quis  Yaladi,  inflamed  with  “violent  motions  all  night  at  the 
Palais  Royal”?  Fame  names  him  “Young  M.  Meillar;”2 
then  shuts  her  lips  about  him  forever. 

In  any  case,  behold,  about  nine  in  the  morning,  our  National 
Volunteers  rolling  in  long  wide  flood  south  westward  to  the 
Hdtel-des-Invalides  ;  in  search  of  the  one  thing  needful. 
King’s  Procureur  M.  Ethys  de  Corny  and  officials  are  there ; 
the  Cure  of  Saint-Etienne  du  Mont  marches  unpacific  at  the 
head  of  his  militant  Parish ;  the  Clerks  of  the  Basoche  in  red 
coats  we  see  marching,  now  Volunteer^  of  the  Basoche ;  the 
Volunteers  of  the  Palais  Royal :  —  National  Volunteers,  numer¬ 
able  by  tens  of  thousands  ;  of  one  heart  and  mind.  The  King’s 
muskets  are  the  Nation’s  ;  think,  old  M.  de  Sombreuil,  how, 
in  this  extremity,  thou  wilt  refuse  them !  Old  M.  de  Sombreuil 
would  fain  hold  parley,  send  couriers ;  but  it  skills  not :  the 
walls  are  scaled,  no  Invalide  firing  a  shot ;  the  gates  must  be 
flung  open.  Patriotism  rushes  in,  tumultuous,  from  grunsel 
up  to  ridge-tile,  through  all  rooms  and  passages ;  rummaging 
distractedly  for  arms.  What  cellar,  or  what  cranny  can 
escape  it  ?  The  arms  are  found ;  all  safe  there  ;  lying  packed 
in  straw, — apparently  with  a  view  to  being  burnt!  More 
ravenous  than  famishing  lions  over  dead  prey,  the  multitude, 
with  clangor  and  vociferation,  pounces  on  them;  struggling, 

1  Besenval,  iii.  414. 

2  Tableaux  de  la  Revolution,  Prise  de  la  Bastille  (a  folio  Collection  of  Pictures 
and  Portraits,  with  letterpress,  not  always  uninstructive,  —  part  of  it  said  to 
be  by  Chamfort). 


Chap.  VI.  STORM  AND  VICTORY.  183 

July  14. 

dashing,  clutching: — to  the  jamming-up,  to  the  pressure, 
fracture  and  probable  extinction  of  the  weaker  Patriot.1  And 
so,  with  such  protracted  crash  of  deafening,  most  discordant 
Orchestra  music,  the  Scene  is  cl?  anged ;  and  eight-and-twenty 
thousand  sufficient  firelocks  are  on  the  shoulders  of  as  many 
National  Guards,  lifted  thereby  out  of  darkness  into  fiery 
light. 

Let  Besenval  look  at  the  glitter  of  these  muskets,  as  they 
flash  by !  Gardes  Frangaises,  it  is  said,  have  cannon  levelled 
on  him ;  ready  to  open,  if  need  were,  from  the  other  side  of 
the  River.2  Motionless  sits  he  ;  “  astonished/’  one  may  flatter 
oneself,  “at  the  proud  bearing  (fiere  contenance)  of  the  Pa¬ 
risians.” —  And  now,  to  the  Bastille,  ye  intrepid  Parisians! 
There  grape-shot  still  threatens:  thither  all  men’s  thoughts 
and  steps  are  now  tending. 

Old  De  Launay,  as  we  hinted,  withdrew  “  into  his  interior  ” 
soon  after  midnight  of  Sunday.  He  remains  there  ever  since, 
hampered,  as  all  military  gentlemen  now  are,  in  the  saddest 
conflict  of  uncertainties.  The  Hotel-de-Ville  “  invites  ”  him 
to  admit  National  Soldiers,  which  is  a  soft  name  for  surren¬ 
dering.  On  the  other  hand,  His  Majesty’s  orders  were  pre¬ 
cise.  His  garrison  is  but  eighty-two  old  Invalides,  reinforced 
by  thirty-two  young  Swiss ;  his  walls  indeed  are  nine  feet 
thick,  he  has  cannon  and  powder ;  but,  alas,  only  one  day’s 
provision  of  victuals.  The  city  too  is  French,  the  poor  gar¬ 
rison  mostly  French.  Rigorous  old  De  Launay,  think  what 
thou  wilt  do ! 

All  morning,  since  nine,  there  has  been  a  cry  everywhere : 
To  the  Bastille!  Repeated  “deputations  of  citizens”  have 
been  here,  passionate  for  arms ;  whom  De  Launay  has  got  dis¬ 
missed  by  soft  speeches  through  port-holes.  Towards  noon, 
Elector  Thuriot  de  la  Rosiere  gains  admittance  ;  finds  De 
Launay  indisposed  for  surrender;  nay  disposed  for  blowing 
up  the  place  rather.  Thuriot  mounts  with  him  to  the  battle¬ 
ments  :  heaps  of  paving-stones,  old  iron  and  missiles  lie  piled ; 
cannon  all  duly  levelled ;  in  every  embrasure  a  cannon,  —  only 
1  Deux  Amis,  i.  302.  2  Besenval,  iii.  416. 


184  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

drawn  back  a  little !  But  outwards,  behold,  0  Thuriot,  how 
the  multitude  flows  on,  welling  through  every  street :  tocsin 
furiously  pealing,  all  drums  beating  the  generate :  the  Suburb 
Saint- Antoine  rolling  hitherward  wholly,  as  one  man !  Such 
vision  (spectral  yet  real)  thou,  0  Thuriot,  as  from  thy  Mount 
of  Vision,  beholdest  in  this  moment:  prophetic  of  what  other 
Phantasmagories,  and  loud-gibbering  Spectral  Realities,  which 
thou  yet  beholdest  not,  but  shalt !  “  Que  voulez-vous  ?  ”  said 

De  Launay,  turning  pale  at  the  sight,  with  an  air  of  reproach, 
almost  of  menace.  “Monsieur,”  said  Thuriot,  rising  into  the 
moral-sublime,  “  what  mean  you  ?  Consider  if  I.  could  not 
precipitate  both  of  us  from  this  height,”  —  say  only  a  hundred 
feet,  exclusive  of  the  walled  ditch !  Whereupon  De  Launay 
fell  silent.  Thuriot  shows  himself  from  some  pinnacle,  to 
comfort  the  multitude  becoming  suspicious,  fremescent :  then 
descends ;  departs  with  protest ;  with  warning  addressed  also 
to  the  Invalides,  —  on  whom,  however,  it  produces  but  a  mixed 
indistinct  impression.  The  old  heads  are  none  of  the  clearest ; 
besides,  it  is  said,  De  Launay  has  been  profuse  of  beverages 
( prodigua  des  buissons).  They  think,  they  will  not  fire,  —  if 
not  fired  on,  if  they  can  help  it ;  but  must,  on  the  whole,  be 
ruled  considerably  by  circumstances. 

Woe  to  thee,  De  Launay,  in  such  an  hour,  if  thou  canst 
not,  taking  some  one  firm  decision,  ride  circumstances !  Soft 
speeches  will  not  serve ;  hard  grape-shot  is  questionable ;  but 
hovering  between  the  two  is  ^^questionable.  Ever  wilder 
swells  the  tide  of  men ;  their  infinite  hum  waxing  ever  louder, 
into  imprecations,  perhaps  into  crackle  of  stray  musketry,  — 
which  latter,  on  walls  nine  feet  thick,  cannot  do  execution. 
The  Outer  Drawbridge  has  been  lowered  for  Thuriot ;  new 
deputation  of  citizens  (it  is  the  third,  and  noisiest  of  all) 
penetrates  that  way  into  the  Outer  Court ;  soft  speeches  pro¬ 
ducing  no  clearance  of  these,  De  Launay  gives  fire ;  pulls  up 
his  Drawbridge.  A  slight  sputter ;  —  which  has  kindled  the 
too  combustible  chaos  ;  made  it  a  roaring  fire-chaos !  Bursts 
forth  Insurrection,  at  sight  of  its  own  blood  (for  there  were 
deaths  by  that  sputter  of  fire),  into  endless  rolling  explosion 
of  musketry,  distraction,  execration ;  —  and  overhead,  from  the 


Chap.  VI.  STORM  AND  VICTORY.  185 

July  14. 

Fortress,  let  one  great  gun,  with  its  grape-shot,  go  booming,  to 
show  what  we  could  do.  The  Bastille  is  besieged ! 

On,  then,  all  Frenchmen,  that  have  hearts  in  yonr  bodies  ! 
Roar  with  all  your  throats,  of  cartilage  and  metal,  ye  Sons  of 
Liberty  j  stir  spasmodically  whatsoever  of  utmost  faculty  is 
in  you,  soul,  body,  or  spirit ;  for  it  is  the  hour !  Smite,  thou 
Louis  Tournay,  Cartwright  of  the  Marais,  old  soldier  of  the 
Regiment  Dauphine ;  smite  at  that  Outer  Drawbridge  chain, 
though  the  fiery  hail  whistles  round  thee  !  Never,  over  nave 
or  felloe,  did  thy  axe  strike  such  a  stroke.  Down  with  it, 
man ;  down  with  it  to  Orcus :  let  the  whole  accursed  Edifice 
sink  thither,  and  Tyranny  be  swallowed  up  forever  !  Mounted 
some  say,  on  the  roof  of  the  guard-room,  some  “on  bayonets 
stuck  into  joints  of  the  wall,”  Louis  Tournay  smites,  brave 
Aubin  Bonnemere  (also  an  old  soldier)  seconding  him :  the 
chain  yields,  breaks ;  the  huge  Drawbridge  slams  down,  thun- 
,  dering  (avec  fracas).  Glorious :  and  yet,  alas,  it  is  still  but 
the  outworks.  The  Eight  grim  Towers,  with  their  Invalide 
musketry,  their  paving-stones  and  cannon-mouths,  still  soar, 
aloft  intact ;  —  Ditch  yawning  impassable,  stone-faced  ;  the 
inner  Drawbridge  with  its  back  towards  us :  the  Bastille  is . 
still  to  take ! 

To  describe  this  Siege  of  the  Bastille  (thought  to  be  one  of 
the  most  important  in  History)  perhaps  transcends  the  talent 
of  mortals.  Could  one  but,  after  infinite  reading,  get  to  under¬ 
stand  so  much  as  the  plan  of  the  building !  But  there  is  open 
Esplanade,  at  the  end  of  the  Rue  Saint- Antoine ;  there  are 
such  Forecourts,  Couv  Avance,  Cour  de  V  Orme ,  arched  Gateway 
(where  Louis  Tournay  now  fights)  ;  then  new  drawbridges,  dor¬ 
mant-bridges,  rampart-bastions,  and  the  grim  Eight  Towers :  a 
labyrinthic  Mass,  high-frowning  there,  of  all  ages  from  twenty 
years  to  four  hundred  and  twenty ;  —  beleaguered,  in  this  its 
last  hour,  as  we  said,  by  mere  Chaos  come  again !  Ordnance 
of  all  calibres ;  throats  of  all  capacities  ;  men  of  all  plans, 
every  man  his  own  engineer :  seldom  since  the  war  of  Pygmies 
and  Cranes  was  there  seen  so  anomalous  a  thing.  Half-pay 
Elie  is  home  for  a  suit  of  regimentals ;  no  one  would  heed 


186  THE  THlBD  ESTATE.  Book  Y. 

1789. 

him  in  colored  clothes:  half-pay  Hulin  is  haranguing  Gardes 
Fra^aises  in  the  Place  de  Greve.  Frantic  Patriots  pick  up 
the  grape-shots ;  bear  them,  still  hot  (or  seemingly  so),  to  the 
Hotel-de-Yille  : — Paris,  you  perceive,  is  to  be  burnt!  Fles- 
selles  is  “  pale  to  the  very  lips ; ”  for  the  roar  of  the  multitude 
grows  deep.  Paris  wholly  has  got  to  the  acme  of  its  frenzy; 
whirled,  all  ways,  by  panic  madness.  At  every  street-barricade, 
there  whirls  simmering  a  minor  whirlpool, — ■  strengthening  the 
barricade,  since  God  knows  what  is  coming;  and  all  minor 
whirlpools  play  distractedly  into  that  grand  Fire-Mahlstrom 
which  is  lashing  round  the  Bastille. 

And  so  it  lashes  and  it  roars.  Cholat  the  wine-merchant  has 
become  an  impromptu  cannoneer.  See  Georget,  of  the  Marine 
Service,  fresh  from  Brest,  ply  the  King  of  Siam’s  cannon. 
Singular  (if  we  were  not  used  to  the  like)  :  Georget  lay,  last 
night,  taking  his  ease  at  his  inn ;  the  King  of  Siam’s  cannon 
also  lay,  knowing  nothing  of  him,  for  a  hundred  years.  Yet 
now,  at  the  right  instant,  they  have  got  together,  and  discourse 
eloquent  music.  For,  hearing  what  was  toward,  Georget 
sprang  from  the  Brest  Diligence,  and  ran.  Gardes  FranQaises 
also  will  be  here,  with  real  artillery :  were  not  the  walls  so 
thick!  —  Upwards  from  the  Esplanade,  horizontally  from  all 
neighboring  roofs  and  windows,  flashes  one  irregular  deluge  of 
musketry,  without  effect.  The  Invalides  lie  flat,  firing  com¬ 
paratively  at  their  ease  from  behind  stone;  hardly  through 
port-holes  show  the  tip  of  a  nose.  We  fall,  shot;  and  make  no 
impression ! 

Let  conflagration  rage  ;  of  whatsoever  is  combustible  !  Guard- 
rooms  are  burnt,  Invalides  mess-rooms.  A  distracted  “  Peruke- 
maker  with  two  fiery  torches  ”  is  for  burning  “  the  saltpetres 
of  the  Arsenal;” — had  not  a  woman  run  screaming  ;  had  not 
a  Patriot,  with  some  tincture  of  Natural  Philosophy,  instantly 
struck  the  wind  out  of  him  (butt  of  musket  on  pit  of  stomach), 
overturned  barrels,  and  stayed  the  devouring  element.  A 
young  beautiful  lady,  seized  escaping  in  these  Outer  Courts, 
and  thought  falsely  to  be  De  Launay’s  daughter,  shall  be  burnt 
in  De  Launay’s  sight ;  she  lies  swooned  on  a  paillasse  :  but 
again  a  Patriot,  it  is  brave  Aubin  Bonnemere  the  old  soldier, 


Chap.  VI.  STORM  AND  VICTORY.  187 

July  14. 

dashes  in,  and  rescues  her.  Straw  is  burnt ;  three  cartloads  of 
it,  hauled  thither,  go  up  in  white  smoke :  almost  to  the  chok¬ 
ing  of  Patriotism  itself ;  so  that  Elie  had,  with  singed  brows, 
to  drag  back  one  cart ;  and  Reole  the  u  gigantic  haberdasher  ” 
another.  Smoke  as  of  Tophet ;  confusion  as  of  Babel ;  noise 
as  of  the  Crack  of  Doom  ! 

Blood  flows  ;  the  aliment  of  new  madness.  The  wounded 
are  carried  into  houses  of  the  Rue  Cerisaie ;  the  dying  leave 
their  last  mandate  not  to  yield  till  the  accursed  Stronghold 
fall.  And  yet,  alas,  how  fall  ?  The  walls  are  so  thick !  Depu¬ 
tations,  three  in  number,  arrive  from  the  H6tel-de-Ville  ;  Abb4 
Fauchet  (who  was  of  one)  can  say,  with  what  almost  super¬ 
human  courage  of  benevolence.1  These  wave  their  Town-flag 
in  the  arched  Gateway  ;  and  stand,  rolling  their  drum ;  but  to 
no  purpose.  In  such  Crack  of  Doom,  De  Launay  cannot  hear 
them,  dare  not  believe  them  :  they  return,  with  justified  rage, 
the  whew  of  lead  still  singing  in  their  ears.  What  to  do*? 
The  Firemen  are  here,  squirting  with  their  fire-pumps  on  the 
Invalides  cannon,  to  wet  the  touch-holes  ;  they  unfortunately 
cannot  squirt  so  high ;  but  produce  only  clouds  of  spray.  In¬ 
dividuals  of  classical  knowledge  propose  catapults .  Santerre, 
the  sonorous  Brewer  of  the  Suburb  Saint-Antoine,  advises 
rather  that  the  place  be  fired,  by  a  “mixture  of  phosphorus 
and  oil-of-turpentine  spouted  up  through  forcing-pumps :  ”  0 
Spinola-Santerre,  hast  thou  the  mixture  ready?  Every  man 
his  own  engineer !  And  still  the  fire-deluge  abates  not ; 
even  women  are  firing,  and  Turks ;  at  least  one  woman 
(with  her  sweetheart),  and  one  Turk.2  Gardes  Fra^aises 
have  come:  real  cannon,  real  cannoneers.  Usher  Maillard  is 
busy ;  half-pay  Elie,  half-pay  Hulin  rage  in  the  midst  of  thou¬ 
sands. 

How  the  great  Bastille  Clock  ticks  (inaudible)  in  its  Inner 
Court  there,  at  its  ease,  hour  after  hour  ;  as  if  nothing  special, 
for  it  or  the  world,  were  passing!  It  tolled  One  when  the 
firing  began ;  and  is  now  pointing  towards  Five,  and  still 
the  firing  slakes  not.  —  Far  down,  in  their  vaults,  the  seven 

1  Fauchet’s  Narrative  ( Deux  Amis,  i.  324). 

2  Deux  Amis,  i.  319  ;  Dusaulx,  &c. 


188  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

Prisoners  hear  muffled  din  as  of  earthquakes  ;  their  Turnkeys 
answer  vaguely. 

Woe  to  thee,  De  Launay,  with  thy  poor  hundred  Invalides  ! 
Broglie  is  distant,  and  his  ears  heavy  :  Besenval  hears,  but  can 
send  no  help.  One  poor  troop  of  Hussars  has  crept,  recon¬ 
noitring,  cautiously  along  the  Quais,  as  far  as  the  Pont  Neuf. 
“We  are  come  to  join  you,”  said  the  Captain;  for  the  crowd 
seems  shoreless.  A  large-headed  dwarfish  individual,  of  smoke- 
bleared  aspect,  shambles  forward,  opening  his  blue  lips,  for 
there  is  sense  in  him ;  and  croaks  :  “  Alight  then,  and  give  up 
your  arms  !  ”  The  Hussar-Captain  is  too  happy  to  be  escorted 
to  the  Barriers,  and  dismissed  on  parole.  Who  the  squat  indi¬ 
vidual  was  ?  Men  answer,  It  is  M.  Marat,  author  of  the  ex¬ 
cellent  pacific  Avis  au  Peuple  !  Great  truly,  0  thou  remarkable 
Dogleech,  is  this  thy  day  of  emergence  and  new-birth :  and 
yet  this  same  day  come  four  years  — !  But  let  the  curtains 
of  the  Future  hang. 

What  shall  De  Launay  do  ?  One  thing  only  De  Launay 
could  have  done :  what  he  said  he  would  do.  Fancy  him  sit¬ 
ting,  from  the  first,  with  lighted  taper,  within  arm’s-length  of 
the  Powder-Magazine ;  motionless,  like  old  Roman  Senator,  or 
Bronze  Lamp-holder ;  coldly  apprising  Thuriot,  and  all  men,  by 
a  slight  motion  of  his  eye,  what  his  resolution  was  :  —  Harm¬ 
less  he  sat  there,  while  unharmed;  but  the  King’s  Fortress, 
meanwhile,  could,  might,  would,  or  should  in  nowise  be  sur¬ 
rendered,  save  to  the  King’s  Messenger :  one  old  man’s  life 
is  worthless,  so  it  be  lost  with  honor ;  but  think,  ye  brawling 
canaille ,  how  will  it  be  when  a  whole  Bastille  springs  skyward ! 
—  in  such  statuesque,  taper-holding  attitude,  one  fancies  De 
Launay  might  have  left  Thuriot,  the  red  Clerks  of  the  Basoche, 
Cure  of  Saint-Stephen  and  all  the  tagrag-and-bobtail  of  the 
world,  to  work  their  will. 

And  yet,  withal,  he  could  not  do  it.  Hast  thou  considered 
how  each  man’s  heart  is  so  tremulously  responsive  to  the  hearts 
of  all  men ;  hast  thou  noted  how  omnipotent  is  the  very  sound 
of  many  men  ?  How  their  shriek  of  indignation  palsies  the 
strong  soul ;  their  howl  of  contumely  withers  with  unfelt 
pangs  ?  The  Ritter  Gluck  confessed  that  the  ground-tone  of 


Chap.  VI.  STORM  AND  VICTORY.  189 

July  14. 

the  noblest  passage,  in  one  of  his  noblest  Operas,  was  the  voice 
of  the  Populace  he  had  heard  at  Vienna,  crying  to  their 
Kaiser  :  Bread  !  Bread  !  Great  is  the  combined  voice  of  men ; 
the  utterance  of  their  instincts ,  which  are  truer  than  their 
thoughts :  it  is  the  greatest  a  man  encounters,  among  the 
sounds  and  shadows  which  make  up  this  World  of  Time.  He 
who  can  resist  that,  lias  his  footing  somewhere  beyond  Time. 
De  Launay  could  not  do  it.  Distracted,  he  hovers  between 
two ;  hopes  in  the  middle  of  despair  ;  surrenders  not  his  For¬ 
tress  ;  declares  that  lie  will  blow  it  up,  seizes  torches  to  blow 
it  up,  and  does  not  blow  it.  Unhappy  old  De  Launay,  it  is 
the  death-agony  of  thy  Bastille  and  thee !  Jail,  Jailering  and 
Jailer,  all  three,  such  as  they  may  have  been,  must  finish. 

For  four  hours  now  has  the  World-Bedlam  roared:  call* it 
the  World-Chimera,  blowing  fire  !  The  poor  Invalides  have 
sunk  under  their  battlements,  or  rise  only  with  reversed  mus¬ 
kets  :  they  have  made  a  white  flag  of  napkins ;  go  beating  the 
chamade,  or  seeming  to  beat,  for  one  can  hear  nothing.  The 
very  Swiss  at  the  Portcullis  look  weary  of  firing ;  disheartened 
in  the  fire-deluge  :  a  port-hole  at  the  drawbridge  is  opened,  as 
by  one  that  would  speak.  See  Huissier  Maillard,  the  shifty 
man  !  On  his  plank,  swinging  over  the  abyss  of  that  stone 
Ditch ;  plank  resting  on  parapet,  balanced  by  weight  of 
Patriots,  —  he  hovers  perilous :  such  a  Dove  toward  such  an 
Ark  !  Deftly,  thou  shifty  U sher :  one  man  already  fell ;  and 
lies  smashed,  far  down  there,  against  the  masonry !  Usher 
Maillard  falls  not :  deftly,  unerring  he  walks,  with  outspread 
palm.  The  Swiss  holds  a  paper  through  his  port-hole  ;  the 
shifty  Usher  snatches  it,  and  returns.  Terms  of  surrender: 
Pardon,  immunity  to  all !  Are  they  accepted  ?  —  uFoi  d’officier, 
On  the  word  of  an  officer,”  answers  half-pa}7  Hulin,  —  or  half¬ 
pay  Elie,  for  men  do  not  agree  on  it,  —  “  they  are  !  ”  Sinks 
the  drawbridge,  —  Usher  Maillard  bolting  it  when  down ; 
rushes  in  the  living  deluge :  the  Bastille  is  fallen  !  Victoire ! 
La  Bastille  est  prise  !  1 

1  Histoire  de  la  Resolution,  par  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberte,  i.  267-306.  Besen- 
val,  iii.  410-434.  Dusaulx  :  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  291-301.  Bailly  :  Mdmoires 
( Collections  de  Berville  et  Barriere),  i.  322  et  seqq. 


190 


THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 


Book  V. 
1789. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NOT  A  REVOLT. 

Why  dwell  on  what  follows  ?  Hulin’ s  foi  d’officier  should 
have  been  kept,  but  could  not.  The  Swiss  stand  drawn  up, 
disguised  in  white  canvas  smocks ;  the  Invalides  without  dis¬ 
guise  ;  their  arms  all  piled  against  the  wall.  The  first  rush 
oP  victors,  in  ecstasy  that  the  death-peril  is  passed,  “  leaps 
joyfully  on  their  necks  ;  ”  but  new  victors  rush,  and  ever  new, 
also  in  ecstasy  not  wholly  of  joy.  As  we  said,  it  was  a  living 
deluge,  plunging  headlong :  had  not  the  Gardes  Prangaises, 
in  their  cool  military  way,  “  wheeled  round  with  arms  lev¬ 
elled,”  it  would  have  plunged  suicidally,  by  the  hundred  or 
the  thousand,  into  the  Bastille-ditch. 

And  so  it  goes  plunging  through  court  and  corridor  ;  billow¬ 
ing  uncontrollable,  firing  from  windows  —  on  itself ;  in  hot 
frenzy  of  triumph,  of  grief  and  vengeance  for  its  slain.  The 
poor  Invalides  will  fare  ill;  one  Swiss,  running  off  in  his 
white  smock,  is  driven  back,  with  a  death-thrust.  Let  all 
Prisoners  be  marched  to  the  Town-hall,  to  be  judged  !  —  Alas, 
already  one  poor  Invalide  has  his  right  hand  slashed  off  him ; 
his  maimed  body  dragged  to  the  Place  de  Greve,  and  hanged 
there.  This  same  right  hand,  it  is  said,  turned  back  De  Lau- 
nay  from  the  Powder-Magazine,  and  saved  Paris. 

De  Launay,  “discovered  in  gray  frock  with  poppy-colored 
ribbon,”  is  for  killing  himself  with  the  sword  of  his  cane.  He 
shall  to  the  Hotel-de-Ville  ;  Hulin,  Maillard  and  others  escort¬ 
ing  him ;  Elie  marching  foremost  “  with  the  capitulation- 
paper  on  his  sword’s  point.”  Through  roarings  and  cursings ; 
through  hustlings,  clutchings,  and  at  last  through  strokes  ! 
Your  escort  is  hustled  aside,  felled  down ;  Hulin  sinks  ex¬ 
hausted  on  a  heap  of  stones.  Miserable  De  Launay !  He 


Chap.  VII.  NOT  A  REVOLT.  191 

July  14. 

shall  never  enter  the  Hdtel-de-Ville :  only  his  “  bloody  hair- 
queue,  held  up  in  a  bloody  hand  ;  ”  that  shall  enter,  for  a  sign. 
The  bleeding  trunk  lies  on  the  steps  there ;  the  head  is  off 
through  the  streets ;  ghastly,  aloft  on  a  pike. 

Rigorous  De  Launay  has  died ;  crying  out,  “  0  friends,  kill 
me  fast !  ”  Merciful  De  Losme  must  die  ;  though  Gratitude 
embraces  him,  in  this  fearful  hour,  and  will  die  for  him ;  it 
avails  not.  Brothers,  your  wrath  is  cruel!  Your  Place  de 
Greve  is  become  a  Throat  of  the  Tiger;  full  of  mere  fierce 
bellowings,  and  thirst  of  blood.  One  other  officer  is  massa¬ 
cred  ;  one  other  Invalide  is  hanged  on  the  Lamp-iron ;  with 
difficulty,  with  generous  perseverance,  the  Gardes  Franchises 
will  save  the  rest.  Provost  Flesselles,  stricken  long  since 
with  the  paleness  of  death,  must  descend  from  his  seat,  “to 
be  judged  at  the  Palais  Royal:  ” —  alas,  to  be  shot  dead,  by 
an  unknown  hand,  at  the  turning  of  the  first  Street !  — 

0  evening  sun  of  July,  how,  at  this  hour,  thy  beams  fall 
slant  on  reapers  amid  peaceful  woody  fields ;  on  old  women 
spinning  in  cottages ;  on  ships  far  out  in  the  silent  main  ;  on 
Balls  at  the  Orangerie  of  Versailles,  where  high-rouged  Dames 
of  the  Palace  are  even  now  dancing  with  double- jacketed  Hus¬ 
sar-officers  ;  —  and  also  on  this  roaring  Hell-porch  of  a  Hotel- 
de-Ville  !  Babel  Tower,  with  the  confusion  of  tongues,  were 
not  Bedlam  added  with  the  conflagration  of  thoughts,  was  no 
type  of  it.  One  forest  of  distracted  steel  bristles,  endless,  in 
front  of  an  Electoral  Committee  ;  points  itself,  in  horrid  radii, 
against  this  and  the  other  accused  breast.  It  was  the  Titans 
warring  with  Olympus ;  and  they,  scarcely  crediting  it,  have 
conquered :  prodigy  of  prodigies  ;  delirious,  —  as  it  could  not 
but  be.  Denunciation,  vengeance  ;  blaze  of  triumph  on  a  dark 
ground  of  terror ;  all  outward,  all  inward  things  fallen  into 
one  general  wreck  of  madness  ! 

Electoral  Committee  ?  Had  it  a  thousand  throats  of  brass, 
it  would  not  suffice.  Abbe  Lefevre,  in  the  Vaults  down  below, 
is  black  as  Vulcan,  distributing  that  “five  thousand-weight  of 
Powder ;  ”  with  what  perils,  these  eight-and-forty  hours  !  Last 
night,  a  Patriot,  in  liquor,  insisted  on  sitting  to  smoke  on  the 
edge  of  one  of  the  Powder-barrels :  there  smoked  he,  indepen- 


192  '  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

dent  of  the  world, — till  the  Abbe  “purchased  his  pipe  for 
three  francs,”  and  pitched  it  far. 

Elie,  in  the  Grand  Hall,  Electoral  Committee  looking  on, 
sits  “  with  drawn  sword  bent  in  three  places  ;  ”  with  battered 
helm,  for  he  was  of  the  Queen’s  Regiment,  Cavalry ;  with  torn 
regimentals,  face  singed  and  soiled;  comparable,  some  think, 
to  “an  antique  warrior;” — judging  the  people;  forming  a 
list  of  Bastille  Heroes.  0  Friends,  stain  not  with  blood  the 
greenest  laurels  ever  gained  in  this  world  :  such  is  the  burden 
of  Elie’s  song :  could  it  but  be  listened  to.  Courage,  Elie  ! 
Courage,  ye  Municipal  Electors !  A  declining  sun ;  the  need 
of  victuals,  and  of  telling  news,  will  bring  assuagement,  disper¬ 
sion  :  all  earthly  things  must  end. 

Along  the  streets  of  Paris  circulate  seven  Bastille  Prismi- 
ers,  borne  shoulder-high ;  seven  Heads  on  pikes ;  the  Keys  of 
the  Bastille  ;  and  much  else.  See  also  the  Gardes  Francises, 
in  their  steadfast  military  way,  marching  home  to  their  bar¬ 
racks,  with  the  Invalides  and  Swiss  kindly  enclosed  in  hollow 
square.  It  is  one  year  and  two  months  since  these  same  men 
stood  unparticipating,  with  Brennus  d’Agoust  at  the  Palais  de 
Justice,  when  Fate  overtook  D’Espremenil ;  and  now  they 
have  participated;  and  will  participate.  Hot  Gardes  Fran- 
9aises  henceforth,  but  Centre  Grenadiers  of  the  National 
Guard :  men  of  Iron  discipline  and  humor,  —  not  without  a 
kind  of  thought  in  them ! 

Likewise  ashlar  stones  of  the  Bastille  continue  thundering 
through  the  dusk;  its  paper  archives  shall  fly  white.  Old 
secrets  come  to  view ;  and  long-buried  Despair  finds  voice. 
Read  this  portion  of  an  old  Letter : 1  “If  for  my  consolation 
Monseigneur  would  grant  me,  for  the  sake  of  God  and  the 
Most  Blessed  Trinity,  that  I  could  have  news  of  my  dear 
wife  ;  were  it  only  her  name  on  a  card,  to  show  that  she  is 
alive  !  It  were  the  greatest  consolation  I  could  receive ;  and 
I  should  forever  bless  the  greatness  of  Monseigneur.”  Poor 
Prisoner,  who  namest  thyself  Queret-D emery,  and  hast  no 

1  Dated  a  la  Bastille,  7  Octobre,  1752;  signed  Queret-Demery.  Bastille 
Dtuoilee ;  in  Linguet,  Me'moires  sur  la  Bastille  (Paris,  1821),  p.  199. 


Chap.  VII.  NOT  A  REVOLT.  193 

July  14. 

other  history,  —  she  is  dead ,  that  dear  wife  of  thine,  and  thou 
art  dead  !  ’T  is  fifty  years  since  thy  breaking  heart  put  this 
question  ;  to  be  heard  now  first,  and  long  heard,  in  the  hearts 
of  men. 

But  so  does  the  July  twilight  thicken;  so  must  Paris,  as  sick 
children,  and  all  distracted  creatures  do,  brawl  itself  finally 
into  a  kind  of  sleep.  Municipal  Electors,  astonished  to  find 
their  heads  still  uppermost,  are  home  :  only  Moreau  de  Saint- 
Mery,  of  tropical  birth  and  heart,  of  coolest  judgment ;  he, 
with  two  others,  shall  sit  permanent  at  the  Town-hall.  Paris 
sleeps  ;  gleams  upward  the  illuminated  City  :  patrols  go  clash¬ 
ing,  without  common  watchword ;  there  go  rumors  ;  alarms  of 
war,  to  the  extent  of  “  fifteen  thousand  men  marching  through 
the  Suburb  Saint- Antoine,”  —  who  never  got  it  marched 
through.  Of  the  day’s  distraction  judge  by  this  of  the  night : 
Moreau  de  Saint-Mery,  “  before  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  up¬ 
wards  of  three  thousand  orders.”  1  What  a  head ;  compara¬ 
ble  to  Priar  Bacon’s  Brass  Head !  Within  it  lies  all  Paris. 
Prompt  must  the  answer  be,  right  or  wrong ;  in  Paris  is  no 
other  Authority  extant.  Seriously,  a  most  cool  clear  head ;  — 
for  which  also  thou,  0  brave  Saint-Mery,  in  many  capacities, 
from  august  Senator  to  Merchant’s-Clerk,  Book-dealer,  Vice- 
King  ;  in  many  places,  from  Virginia  to  Sardinia,  shalt,  ever 
as  a  brave  man,  find  employment.2 

Besenval  has  decamped,  under  cloud  of  dusk,  “  amid  a  great 
affluence  of  people,”  who  did  not  harm  him ;  he  marches  with 
faint-growing  tread,  down  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  all 
night,  —  towards  infinite  space.  Re-summoned  shall  Besen¬ 
val  himself  be  ;  for  trial,  for  difficult  acquittal.  His  King’s- 
troops,  his  Royal-Allemand,  are  gone  hence  forever. 

The  Versailles  Ball  and  lemonade  is  done ;  the  Orangerie  is 
silent  except  for  nightbirds.  Over  in  the  Salle-des-Menus 
Vice-President  Lafayette,  with  unsnuffed  lights,  “with  some 
Hundred  or  so  of  Members,  stretched  on  tables  round  him,” 
sits  erect ;  outwatching  the  Bear.  This  day,  a  second  solemn 

1  Dusaulx. 

2  Biogrciphie  Universelle,  §  Moreau  Saint-Mery  (by  Fournier-Pescay). 

VOL.  III.  13 


194  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

Deputation  went  to  his  Majesty ;  a  second,  and  then  a  third: 
with  no  effect.  What  will  the  end  of  these  things  be  ? 

In  the  Court,  all  is  mystery,  not  without  whisperings  of 
terror ;  though  ye  dream  of  lemonade  and  epaulettes,  ye 
foolish  women  !  His  Majesty,  kept  in  happy  ignorance,  per¬ 
haps  dreams  of  double-barrels  and  the  Woods  of  Meudon. 
Late  at  night,  the  Duke  de  Liancourt,  having  official  right  of 
entrance,  gains  access  to  the  Royal  Apartments ;  unfolds,  with 
earnest  clearness,  in  his  constitutional  way,  the  Job’s-news. 
“  Mais,”  said  poor  Louis,  “ c’est  une  revolte ,  Why,  that  is  a 
revolt  !  ”  —  “  Sire,”  answered  Liancourt,  “  it  is  not  a  revolt,  — 
it  is  a  revolution.” 

- 1 — * - 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CONQUERING  YOUR  KING. 

On  the  morrow  a  fourth  Deputation  to  the  Chateau  is  on 
foot :  of  a  more  solemn,  not  to  say  awful  character ;  for,  be¬ 
sides  “  orgies  in  the  Orangerie,”  it  seems  “  the  grain-convoys 
are  all  stopped ;  ”  nor  has  Mirabeau’s  thunder  been  silent. 
Such  Deputation  is  on  the  point  of  setting  out,  —  when  lo, 
his  Majesty  himself,  attended  only  by  his  two  Brothers,  steps 
in ;  quite  in  the  paternal  manner ;  announces  that  the  troops, 
and  all  causes  of  offence,  are  gone,  and  henceforth  there  shall 
be  nothing  but  trust,  reconcilement,  ‘good-will ;  whereof  he 
“  permits,  and  even  requests,”  a  National  Assembly  to  assure 
Paris  in  his  name !  Acclamation,  as  of  men  suddenly  deliv¬ 
ered  from  death,  gives  answer.  The  whole  Assembly  spon¬ 
taneously  rises  to  escort  his  Majesty  back ;  “  interlacing  their 
arms  to  keep  off  the  excessive  pressure  from  him ;  ”  for  all 
Versailles  is  crowding  and  shouting.  The  Chateau  Musicians, 
with  a  felicitous  promptitude,  strike  up  the  Sein  de  sa  Famille 
(Bosom  of  one’s  Family)  :  the  Queen  appears  at  the  Balcony 
with  her  little  boy  and  girl,  “  kissing  them  several  times  ;  ” 
infinite  Vivats  spread  far  and  wide;  —  and  suddenly  there  has 
come,  as  it  were,  a  new  Heaven-on-Earth. 


chap.  VIII.  CONQUERING  YOUR  KING.  195 

July  15. 

Eighty-eight  august  Senators,  Bailly,  Lafayette  and  our 
repentant  Archbishop  among  them,  take  coach  for  Paris, 
with  the  great  intelligence ;  benedictions  without  end  on 
their  heads.  From  the  Place  Louis  Quinze,  where  they 
alight,  all  the  way  to  the  Hotel-de-Yille,  it  is  one  sea  of  Tri¬ 
color  cockades,  of  clear  National  muskets  ;  one  tempest  of 
huzzaings,  hand-clappings,  aided  by  “  occasional  rollings ”  of 
drum-music.  Harangues  of  due  fervor  are  delivered ;  es¬ 
pecially  by  Lally  Tollendal,  pious  son  of  the  ill-fated  mur¬ 
dered  Lally;  on  whose  head,  in  consequence,  a  civic  crown 
(of  oak  or  parsley)  is  forced,  —  which  he  forcibly  transfers  to 
Bailly’s. 

But  surely,  for  one  thing,  the  National  Guard  should  have 
a  General !  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery,  he  of  the  “  three  thousand 
orders,”  casts  one  of  his  significant  glances  on  the  Bust  of  La¬ 
fayette,  which  has  stood  there  ever  since  the  American  War  of 
Liberty.  Whereupon,  by  acclamation,  Lafayette  is  nominated. 
Again,  in  room  of  the  slain  traitor  or  quasi-traitor  Flesselles, 
President  Bailly  shall  be  —  Provost  of  the  Merchants  ?  No  : 
Mayor  of  Paris  !  So  be  it.  Maire  de  Paris !  Mayor  Bailly, 
General  Lafayette  ;  vive  Bailly,  vive  Lafayette  !  the  universal 
out-of-doors  multitude  rends  the  welkin  in  confirmation.  — 
And  now,  finally,  let  us  to  Notre-Dame  for  a  Te  Beum. 

Towards  Notre-Dame  Cathedral,  in  glad  procession,  these 
Regenerators  of  the  Country  walk,  through  a  jubilant  people  ; 
in  fraternal  manner ;  Abbe  Lefevre,  still  black  with  his  gun¬ 
powder  services,  walking  arm  in  arm  with  the  white-stoled 
Archbishop.  Poor  Bailly  comes  upon  the  Foundling  Chil¬ 
dren,  sent  to  kneel  to  him ;  and  “  weeps.”  Te  Deum,  our 
Archbishop  officiating,  is  not  only  sung,  but  shot  —  with  blank 
cartridges.  Our  joy  is  boundless,  as  our  woe  threatened  to  be. 
Paris,  by  her  own  pike  and  musket,  and  the  valor  of  her 
own  heart,  has  conquered  the  very  war-gods,  —  to  the  satis¬ 
faction  now  of  Majesty  itself.  A  courier  is,  this  night,  get¬ 
ting  under  way  for  Necker :  the  People’s  Minister,  invited 
back  by  King,  by  National  Assembly,  and  Nation,  shall 
traverse  France  amid  shoutings,  and  the  sound  of  trumpet 
and  timbrel. 


196  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

Seeing  which  course  of  things,  Messeigneurs  of  the  Court 
Triumvirate,  Messieurs  of  the  dead-bom  Broglie  Ministry, 
and  others  such,  consider  that  their  part  also  is  clear:  to 
mount  and  ride.  Off,  ye  too  royal  Broglies,  Polignacs  and 
Princes  of  the  Blood ;  off  while  it  is  yet  time  !  Did  not  the 
Palais  Royal,  in  its  late  nocturnal  “  violent  motions,”  set  a 
specific  price  (place  of  payment  not  mentioned)  on  each  of 
your  heads  ?  —  With  precautions,  with  the  aid  of  pieces  of 
cannon  and  regiments  that  can  be  depended  on,  Messeigneurs, 
between  the  16th  night  and  17th  morning,  get  to  their  sev¬ 
eral  roads.  Not  without  risk !  Prince  Conde  has  (or  seems 
to  have)  “  men  galloping  at  full  speed :  ”  with  a  view,  it  is 
thought,  to  fling  him  into  the  river  Oise,  at  Pont-Sainte-May- 
ence.1  The  Polignacs  travel  disguised ;  friends,  not  servants, 
on  their  coach-box.  Broglie  has  his  own  difficulties  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  runs  his  own  risks  at  Metz  and  Verdun ;  does  never¬ 
theless  get  safe  to  Luxemburg,  and  there  rests. 

This  is  what  they  call  the  First  Emigration ;  determined 
on,  as  appears,  in  full  Court-conclave;  his  Majesty  assisting; 
prompt  he,  for  his  share  of  it,  to  follow  any  counsel  whatso¬ 
ever.  “  Three  Sons  of  France,  and  four  Princes  of  the  blood 
of  Saint  Louis,”  says  Weber,  “  could  not  more  effectually 
humble  the  Burghers  of  Paris  than  by  appearing  to  withdraw 
in  fear  of  their  life.”  Alas,  the  Burghers  of  Paris  bear  it 
with  unexpected  stoicism !  The  Man  D’ Artois  indeed  is  gone ; 
but  has  he  carried,  for  example,  the  Land  D’Artois  with  him  ? 
Not  even  Bagatelle  the  Country-house  (which  shall  be  useful 
as  a  Tavern) ;  hardly  the  four-valet  Breeches,  leaving  the 
Breeches-maker  !  —  As  for  old  Foulon,  one  learns  that  he  is 
dead  ;  at  least  “a  sumptuous  funeral”  is  going  on  ;  the  under¬ 
takers  honoring  him,  if  no  other  will.  Intendant  Berthier, 
his  son-in-law,  is  still  living;  lurking:  he  joined  Besenval,  on 
that  Eumenides  Sunday;  appearing  to  treat  it  with  levity; 
and  is  now  fled  no  man  knows  whither. 

The  Emigration  is  not  gone  many  miles,  Prince  Conde 
hardly  across  the  Oise,  when  his  Majesty,  according  to  ar- 

1  Weber,  ii.  126. 


Chap.  VIII.  CONQUERING  YOUR  KING.  197 

Julv  17. 

•r 

rangement,  for  the  Emigration  also  thought  it  might  do  good, 
—  undertakes  a  rather  daring  enterprise :  that  of  visiting  Paris 
in  person.  With  a  Hundred  Members  of  Assembly ;  with 
small  or  no  military  escort,  which  indeed  he  dismissed  at  the 
Bridge  of  Sevres,  poor  Louis  sets  out ;  leaving  a  desolate  Pal¬ 
ace  ;  a  Queen  weeping,  the  Present,  the  Past  and  the  Future 
all  so  unfriendly  for  her. 

At  the  Barrier  of  Passy,  Mayor  Bailly,  in  grand  gala,  pre¬ 
sents  him  with  the  keys  ;  harangues  him,  in  Academic  style ; 
mentions  that  it  is  a  great  day ;  that  in  Henri  Quatre’s  case, 
the  King  had  to  make  conquest  of  his  People;  but  in  this 
happier  case,  the  People  makes  conquest  of  its  King  (a  conquis 
son  Hoi).  The  King,  so  happily  conquered,  drives  forward, 
slowly,  through  a  steel  people,  all  silent,  or  shouting  only 
Vive  la  Nation  ;  is  harangued  at  the  Town-hall,  by  Moreau  of 
the  three  thousand  orders,  by  King’s  Procureur  M.  Ethys  de 
Corny,  by  Lally  Tollendal,  and  others;  knows  not  what  to 
think  of  it  or  say  of  it ;  learns  that  he  is  “  Restorer  of  French 
Liberty,”  —  as  a  Statue  of  him,  to  be  raised  on  the  site  of  the 
Bastille,  shall  testify  to  all  men.  Finally,  he  is  shown  at  the 
Balcony,  with  a  Tricolor  cockade  in  his  hat ;  is  greeted  now, 
with  vehement  acclamation,  from  Square  and  Street,  from  all 
windows  and  roofs: — and  so  drives  home  again  amid  glad 
mingled  and,  as  it  were,  intermarried  shouts,  of  Vive  le  Iioi 
and  Vive  la  Nation  ;  wearied  but  safe. 

It  was  Sunday  when  the  red-hot  balls  hung  over  us,  in  mid¬ 
air :  it  is  now  but  Friday,  and  “the  Revolution  is  sanctioned.” 
An  august  National  Assembly  shall  make  the  Constitution; 
and  neither  foreign  Pandour,  domestic  Triumvirate,  with  lev¬ 
elled  Cannon,  Guy-Faux  powder-plots  (for  that  too  was  spoken 
of)  ;  nor  any  tyrannic  Power  on  the  Earth  or  under  the  Earth, 
shall  say  to  it,  What  dost  thou  ?  —  So  jubilates  the  People ; 
sure  now  of  a  Constitution.  Cracked  Marquis  Saint-Huruge 
is  heard  under  the  windows  of  the  Chateau ;  murmuring  sheer 
speculative-treason.1 


1  Campan,  ii.  46-64. 


198 


THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 


Book  Y. 
1789. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  LANTERNE. 

The  Fall  of  the  Bastille  may  be  said  to  have  shaken  all 
France  to  the  deepest  foundations  of  its  existence.  The  rumor 
of  these  wonders  flies  everywhere :  with  the  natural  speed  of 
Rumor ;  with  an  effect  thought  to  be  preternatural,  produced 
by  plots.  Did  D’ Orleans  or  Laclos,  nay  did  Mirabeau  (not 
overburdened  with  money  at  this  time)  send  riding  Couriers 
out  from  Paris  ;  to  gallop  u  on  all  radii,”  or  highways,  towards 
all  points  of  France  ?  It  is  a  miracle,  which  no  penetrating 
man  will  call  in  question.1 

Already  in  most  Towns,  Electoral  Committees  were  met ;  to 
regret  Necker,  in  harangue  and  resolution.  In  many  a  Town, 
as  Rennes,  Caen,  Lyons,  an  ebullient  people  wras  already  re¬ 
gretting  him  in  brickbats  and  musketry.  But  now,  at  every 
Town’s-end  in  France,  there  do  arrive,  in  these  days  of  terror, 
—  “  men,”  as  men  will  arrive  ;  nay  “  men  on  horseback,”  since 
Rumor  oftenest  travels  riding.  These  men  declare,  with 
alarmed  countenance,  The  Brigands  to  be  coming,  to  be  just 
at  hand  ;  and  do  then  —  ride  on,  about  their  further  business, 
be  what  it  might !  Whereupon  the  whole  population  of  such 
Town  defensively  flies  to  arms.  Petition  is  soon  thereafter 
forwarded  to  National  Assembly ;  in  such  peril  and  terror  of 
peril,  leave  to  organize  yourself  cannot  be  withheld :  the  armed 
population  becomes  everywhere  an  enrolled  National  Guard. 
Thus  rides  Rumor,  careering  along  all  radii,  from  Paris  out¬ 
wards,  to  such  purpose :  in  few  days,  some  say  in  not  many 
hours,  all  France  to  the  utmost  borders  bristles  with  bayonets. 
Singular,  but  undeniable, — miraculous  or  not!  —  But  thus 
may  any  chemical  liquid,  though  cooled  to  the  freezing-point, 
or  far  lower,  still  continue  liquid :  -and  then,  on  the  slightest 


1  Toulongeon,  i.  95;  Weber,  &c.  &c. 


Chap.  IX.  THE  LANTERNE.  199 

July  22. 

stroke  or  shake,  it  at  once  rushes  wholly  into  ice.  Thus  has 
France,  for  long  months  and  even  years,  been  chemically  dealt 
with ;  brought  below  zero  ;  and  now,  shaken  by  the  Fall  of 
a  Bastille,  it  instantaneously  congeals :  into  one  crystallized 
mass,  of  sharp-cutting  steel !  Guai  a  chi  la  tocca,  ’Ware  who 
touches  it ! 

In  Paris,  an  Electoral  Committee,  with  a  new  Mayor  and 
General,  is  urgent  with  belligerent  workmen  to  resume  their 
handicrafts.  Strong  Dames  of  the  Market  (Dames  de  la  Halle) 
deliver  congratulatory  harangues  ;  present  “  bouquets  to  the 
Shrine  of  Sainte  Genevieve.”  Unenrolled  men  deposit  their 
arms,  —  not  so  readily  as  could  be  wished  :  and  receive  u  nine 
francs.”  With  Te  Dennis,  Royal  Visits,  and  sanctioned  Revo¬ 
lution,  there  is  halcyon  weather ;  weather  even  of  .preter¬ 
natural  brightness  ;  the  hurricane  being  overblown. 

Nevertheless,  as  is  natural,  the  waves  still  run  high,  hollow 
rocks  retaining  their  murmur.  We  are  but  at  the  22d  of  the 
month,  hardly  above  a  week  since  the  Bastille  fell,  when  it 
suddenly  appears  that  old  Foulon  is  alive  ;  nay,  that  he  is 
here,  in  early  morning,  in  the  streets  of  Paris  :  the  extortioner, 
the  plotter,  who  would  make  the  people  eat  grass,  and  was 
a  liar  from  the  beginning !  —  It  is  even  so.  The  deceptive 
“  sumptuous  funeral  ”  (of  some  domestic  that  died)  ;  the 
hiding-place  at  Vitry  towards  Fontainebleau,  have  not  availed 
that  wretched  old  man.  Some  living  domestic  or  dependent, 
for  none  loves  Foulon,  has  betrayed  him  to  the  Village.  Mer¬ 
ciless  boors  of  Vitry  unearth  him  ;  pounce  on  him,  like  hell¬ 
hounds  :  Westward,  old  Infamy;  to  Paris,  to  be  judged  at  the 
Hotel-de-Ville  !  His  old  head,  which  seventy-four  years  have 
bleached,  is  bare ;  they  have  tied  an  emblematic  bundle  of 
grass  on  his  back ;  a  garland  of  nettles  and  thistles  is  round 
his  neck :  in  this  manner  ;  led  with  ropes ;  goaded  on  with 
curses  and  menaces,  must  he,  with  his  old  limbs,  sprawl  for¬ 
ward  ;  the  pitiablest,  most  unpitied  of  all  old  men. 

Sooty  Saint- Antoine,  and  every  street,  musters  its  crowds  as 
he  passes  ;  —  the  Hall  of  the  Hotel-de-Ville,  the  Place  de  Greve 
itself,  will  scarcely  hold  his  escort  and  him.  Foulon  must  not 


200  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  V. 

1789. 

only  be  judged  righteously,  but  judged  there  where  he  stands, 
without  any  delay.  Appoint  seven  judges,  ye  Municipals,  or 
seventy-and-seven ;  name  them  yourselves,  or  we  will  name 
them :  but  judge  him ! 1  Electoral  rhetoric,  eloquence  of 
Mayor  Bailly,  is  wasted,  for  hours,  explaining  the  beauty  of 
the  Law’s  delay.  Delay,  and  still  delay !  Behold,  0  Mayor 
of  the  People,  the  morning  has  worn  itself  into  noon :  and  he  is 
still  unjudged  !  —  Lafayette,  pressingly  sent  for,  arrives;  gives 
voice :  this  Eoulon,  a  known  man,  is  guilty  almost  beyond 
doubt ;  but  may  he  not  have  accomplices  ?  Ought  not  the 
truth  to  be  cunningly  pumped  out  of  him,  —  in  the  Abbaye 
Prison  ?  It  is  a  new  light !  Sansculottism  claps  hands  ;  — 
at  which  hand-clapping,  Foulon  (in  his  fainness,  as  his  Destiny 
would  have  it)  also  claps.  “  See !  they  understand  one  an¬ 
other !.”  cries  dark  Sansculottism,  blazing  into  fury  of  sus-- 
picion.  —  “Friends,”  said  “a  person  in  good  clothes,”  stepping 
forward,  “  what  is  the  use  of  judging  this  man  ?  Has  not  he 
been  judged  these  thirty  years  ?  ”  With  wild  yells,  Sanscu¬ 
lottism  clutches  him,  in  its  hundred  hands:  he  is  whirled 
across  the  Place  de  Greve,  to  the  “  Lanterne ,”  Lamp-iron  which 
there  is  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Vannerie ;  pleading  bit¬ 
terly  for  life,  —  to  the  deaf  winds.  Only  with  the  third  rope 

—  for  two  ropes  broke,  and  the  quavering  voice  still  pleaded 

—  can  he  be  so  much  as  got  hanged !  His  Body  is  dragged 
through  the  streets ;  his  Head  goes  aloft  on  a  pike,  the  mouth 
filled  with  grass :  amid  sounds  as  of  Tophet,  from  a  grass¬ 
eating  people.2 

Surely  if  Revenge  is  a  “kind  of  Justice,”  it  is  a  “wild” 
kind  !  0  mad  Sansculottism,  hast  thou  risen,  in  thy  mad 

darkness,  in  thy  soot  and  rags ;  unexpectedly,  like  an  En- 
celadus,  living-buried,  from  under  his  Trinacria  ?  They  that 
would  make  grass  be  eaten  do  now  eat  grass,  in  this  manner  ? 
After  long  dumb-groaning  generations,  has  the  turn  suddenly 
become  thine  ?  —  To  such  abysmal  overturns,  and  frightful 
instantaneous  inversions  of  the  centre-of-gravity,  are  human 
Solecisms  all  liable,  if  they  but  knew  it ;  the  more  liable,  the 
falser  (and  top-heavier)  they  are !  — 

1  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  146-149.  2  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberty  ii.  60-66. 


Chap.  IX.  THE  LANTERNE.  201 

July  22. 

To  add  to  the  horror  of  Mayor  Bailly  and  his  Municipals, 
word  comes  that  Berthier  has  also  been  arrested ;  that  he  is  on 
his  way  hither  from  Compiegne.  Berthier,  Intendant  (say 
Tax-levier )  of  Paris ;  sycophant  and  tyrant ;  forestaller  of 
Corn ;  contriver  of  Camps  against  the  people  5  —  accused  of 
many  things :  is  he  not  Foulon’s  son-in-law ;  and,  in  that  one 
point,  guilty  of  all  ?  In  these  hours,  too,  when  Sansculottism 
has  its  blood  up  !  The  shuddering  Municipals  send  one  of  their 
number  to  escort  him,  with  mounted  National  Guards. 

At  the  fall  of  day,  the  wretched  Berthier,  still  -wearing  a 
face  of  courage,  arrives  at  the  Barrier  ;  in  an  open  carriage ; 
with  the  Municipal  beside  him  ;  five  hundred  horsemen  with 
drawn  sabres.;  unarmed  footmen  enough:  not  without  noise! 
Placards  go  brandished  round  him ;  bearing  legibly  his  indict¬ 
ment,  as  Sansculottism,  with  unlegal  brevity,  “  in  huge  letters,” 
draws  it  up.1  Paris  is  come  forth  to  meet  him :  with  hand- 
clappings,  urith  windows  flung  up  ;  with  dances,  triumph-songs, 
as  of  the  Furies.  Lastly,  the  Head  of  Foulon  ;  this  also  meets 
him  on  a  pike.  Well  might  his  “look  become  glazed,”  and 
sense  fail  him,  at  such  sight!  —  Nevertheless,  be  the  man’s 
conscience  what  it  may,  his  nerves  are  of  iron.  At  the  Hotel- 
de-Ville  he  will  answer  nothing.  He  says  he  obeyed  superior 
orders  ;  they  have  his  papers  ;  they  may  judge  and  determine  : 
as  for  himself,  not  having  closed  an  eye  these  two  nights,  he 
demands,  before  all  things,  to  have  sleep.  Leaden  sleep,  thou 
miserable  Berthier !  Guards  rise  with  him,  in  motion  towards 
the  Abbaye.  At  the  very  door  of  the  Hotel-de-Ville,  they  are 
clutched  ;  flung  asunder,  as  by  a  vortex  of  mad  arms  ;  Berthier 
whirls  towards  the  Lanterne.  He  snatches  a  musket ;  fells 
and  strikes,  defending  himself  like  a  mad  lion :  he  is  borne 
down,  trampled,  hanged,  mangled :  his  Head  too,  and  even  his 
Heart,  flies  over  the  City  on  a  pike. 

Horrible,  in  Lands  that  had  known  equal  justice !  Not  so 
unnatural  in  Lands  that  had  never  known  it.  “  Le  sang  qui 

1  “  Tla  vol€  le  Roi  et  la  France  (He  robbed  the  King  and  France).”  “He 
devoured  the  substance  of  the  People.”  “  He  was  the  slave  of  the  rich,  and  the 
tyrant  of  the  poor.”  “  He  drank  the  blood  of  the  widow  and  orphan.”  “  He 
betrayed  his  country.”  See  Deux  Amis,  ii.  67-73. 


202  /  THE  THIRD  ESTATE.  Book  Y. 

1789. 

coule,  est-il  clone  si  pur  ?  ”  asks  Barnave ;  intimating  that  the 
Gallows,  though  by  irregular  methods,  has  its  own.  —  Thou 
thyself,  0  Reader,  when  thou  turnest  that  corner  of  the  Rue 
de  la  Vannerie,  and  discernest  still  that  same  grim  Bracket  of 
old  Iron,  wilt  not  want  for  reflections.  u  Over  a  grocer’s  shop,” 
or  otherwise ;  with  “  a  bust  of  Louis  XIV.  in  the  niche  under 
it,”  now  no  longer  in  the  niche,  —  it  still  sticks  there ;  still 
holding  out  an  ineffectual  light,  of  fish-oil ;  and  has  seen  worlds 
wrecked,  and  says  nothing. 

But  to  the  eye  of  enlightened  Patriotism,  what  a  thunder¬ 
cloud  was  this ;  suddenly  shaping  itself  in  the  radiance  of  the 
halcyon  weather !  Cloud  of  Erebus  blackness ;  betokening 
latent  electricity  without  limit.  Mayor  Bailly,  General  La¬ 
fayette  throw  up  their  commissions,  in  an  indignant  manner ; 
—  need  to  be  flattered  back  again.  The  cloud  disappears,  as 
thunder-clouds  do.  The  halcyon  weather  returns,  though  of  a 
grayer  complexion;  of  a  character  more  and  more  evidently 
not  supernatural. 

Thus,  in  any  case,  with  what  rubs  soever,  shall  the  Bastille 
be  abolished  from  our  Earth  ;  and  with  it,  Feudalism,  Despot¬ 
ism  ;  and,  one  hopes,  Scoundrelism  generally,  and  all  hard 
usage  of  man  by  his  brother  man.  Alas,  the  Scoundrelism 
and  hard  usage  are  not  so  easy  of  abolition  !  But  as  for  the 
Bastille,  it  sinks  day  after  day,  and  month  after  month;  its 
ashlars  and  boulders  tumbling  down  continually,  by  express 
OTder  of  our  Municipals.  Crowds  of  the  curious  roam  through 
its  caverns;  gaze  on  the  skeletons  found  walled  up,  on  the 
oubliettes,  iron  cages,  monstrous  stone-blocks  with  padlock 
chains.  One  day  we  discern  Mirabeau  there,  along  with  the 
Genevese  Dumont.1  Workers  and  on-lookers  make  reverent 
way  for  him  ;  fling  verses,  flowers  on  his  path,  Bastille-papers 
and  curiosities  into  his  carriage,  with  vivats. 

Able  Editors  compile  Books  from  the  Bastille  Archives ; 
from  what  of  them  remain  unburnt.  The  Key  of  that  Robber- 
Den  shall  cross  the  Atlantic;  shall  lie  on  Washington’s  hall- 
table.  The  great  Clock  ticks  now  in  a  private  patriotic  Clock- 
maker’s  apartment ;  no  longer  measuring  hours  of  mere  heavi- 
1  Dumont :  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau ,  p.  305. 


Chap.  IX.  THE  LANTERNE.  203 

July  22. 

ness.  Vanished  is  the  Bastille,  what  we  call  vanished :  the 
body ,  or  sandstones,  of  it  hanging,  in  benign  metamorphosis, 
for  centuries  to  come,  over  the  Seine  waters,  as  Pont  Louis 
Seize y1  the  soul  of  it  living,  perhaps  still  longer,  in  the  mem¬ 
ories  of  men. 

So  far,  ye  august  Senators,  with  your  Tennis-Court  Oaths, 
your  inertia  and  impetus,  your  sagacity  and  pertinacity,  have 
ye  brought  us.  “  And  yet  think,  Messieurs,”  as  the  Petitioners 
justly  urged,  “  you  who  were  our  saviors  did  yourselves  need 
saviors,”  —  the  brave  Bastillers,  namely ;  workmen  of  Paris ; 
many  of  them  in  straitened  pecuniary  circumstances  ! 2  Sub¬ 
scriptions  are  opened;  Lists  are  formed,  more  accurate  than 
Elie’s ;  harangues  are  delivered.  A  Body  of  Bastille  Heroes , 
tolerably  complete,  did  get  together  ;  —  comparable  to  the  Ar¬ 
gonauts  ;  hoping  to  endure  like  them.  But  in  little  more  than 
a  year  the  whirlpool  of  things  threw  them  asunder  again,  and 
they  sank.  So  many  highest  superlatives  achieved  by  man  are 
followed  by  new  higher ;  and  dwindle  into  comparatives  and 
positives  !  The  Siege  of  the  Bastille,  weighed  with  which,  in 
the  Historical  balance,  most  other  sieges,  including  that  of 
Troy  Town,  are  gossamer,  cost,  as  we  find,  in  killed  and  mor¬ 
tally  wounded,  on  the  part  of  the  Besiegers,  some  Eighty-three 
persons  :  on  the  part  of  the  Besieged,  after  all  that  straw- 
burning,  fire-pumping,  and  deluge  of  musketry,  One  poor  soli¬ 
tary  Invalide,  shot  stone-dead  ( 'roide-mort )  on  the  battlements  ! 3 
The  Bastille  Fortress,  like  the  City  of  Jericho,  was  overturned 
by  miraculous  sound. 

1  Dulaure  :  Histoire  de  Paris,  viii.  434. 

2  Moniteur:  Seance  du  Samedi  18  Juillet,  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire , 
ii.  137). 

3  Dusaulx :  Prise  de  la  Bastille ,  p.  447,  &c. 


BOOK  VI. 


CONSOLIDATION. 

- « - 

CHAPTER  I. 

MAKE  THE  CONSTITUTION. 

Here  perhaps  is  the  place  to  fix,  a  little  more  precisely, 
what  these  two  words,  French  Revolution ,  shall  mean ;  for, 
strictly  considered,  they  may  have  as  many  meanings  as  there 
are  speakers  of  them.  All  things  are  in  revolution ;  in  change 
from  moment  to  moment,  which  becomes  sensible  from  epoch 
to  epoch  :  in  this  Time-World  of  ours  there  is  properly  noth¬ 
ing  else  but  revolution  and  mutation,  and  even  nothing  else 
conceivable.  Revolution,  you  answer,  means  speedier  change. 
Whereupon  one  has  still  to  ask :  How  speedy  ?  At  what 
degree  of  speed ;  in  what  particular  points  of  this  variable 
course,  which  varies  in  velocity,  but  can  never  stop  till  Time 
itself  stops,  does  revolution  begin  and  end ;  cease  to  be  ordi¬ 
nary  mutation,  and  again  become  such  ?  It  is  a  thing  that 
will  depend  on  definition  more  or  less  arbitrary. 

For  ourselves,  we  answer  that  French  Revolution  means 
here  the  open  violent  Rebellion,  and  Victory,  of  disimprisoned 
Anarchy  against  corrupt  worn-out  Authority  :  how  Anarchy 
breaks  prison  ;  bursts  up  from  the  infinite  Deep,  and  rages  un¬ 
controllable,  immeasurable,  enveloping  a  world ;  in  phasis  after 
phasis  of  fever-frenzy;  —  till  the  frenzy  burning  itself  out,  and 
what  elements  of  new  Order  it  held  (since  all  Force  holds  such) 
developing  themselves,  the  Uncontrollable  be  got,  if  not  reim¬ 
prisoned,  yet  harnessed,  and  its  mad  forces  made  tQ  work  to¬ 
wards  their  object  as  sane  regulated  ones.  For  as  Hierarchies 


Chap.  I.  MAKE  THE  CONSTITUTION.  205 

July- August. 

and  Dynasties  of  all  kinds,  Theocracies,  Aristocracies,  Autoc¬ 
racies,  Strumpetocracies,  have  ruled  over  the  world ;  so  it  was 
appointed,  in  the  decrees  of  Providence,  that  this  same  Vic¬ 
torious  Anarchy,  Jacobinism,  Sansculottism,  French  Devolution, 
Horrors  of  French  Revolution,  or  what  else  mortals  name  it, 
should  have  its  turn.  The  “  destructive  wrath  ”  of  Sansculot¬ 
tism  :  this  is  what  we  speak,  having  unhappily  no  voice  for 
singing. 

Surely  a  great  Phenomenon  :  nay  it  is  a  transcendental  one, 
overstepping  all  rules  and  experience ;  the  crowning  Phenom¬ 
enon  of  our  Modern  Time.  For  here  again,  most  unexpect¬ 
edly,  comes  antique  Fanaticism  in  new  and  newest  vesture ; 
miraculous,  as  all  Fanaticism  is.  Call  it  the  Fanaticism  of 
“  making  away  with  formulas,  de  liumer  les  formules  .”  The 
world  of  formulas,  the  formed  regulated  world,  which  all  habit¬ 
able  world  is,  —  must  needs  hate  such  Fanaticism  like  death  ; 
and  be  at  deadly  variance  with  it.  The  world  of  formulas 
must  conquer  it ;  or  failing  that,  must  die  execrating  it,  anathe¬ 
matizing  it ;  —  can  nevertheless  in  nowise  prevent  its  being 
and  its  having  been.  The  Anathemas  are  there,  and  the 
miraculous  Thing  is  there. 

Whence  it  cometh  ?  Whither  it  goeth  ?  These  are  ques¬ 
tions  !  When  the  age  of  Miracles  lay  faded  into  the  distance 
as  an  incredible  tradition,  and  even  the  age  of  Convention¬ 
alities  was  now  old ;  and  Man’s  Existence  had  for  long  gener¬ 
ations  rested  on  mere  formulas  which  were  grown  hollow  by 
course  of  time ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  no  Reality  any  longer 
existed,  but  only  Phantasms  of  realities,  and  God’s  Universe 
were  the  work  of  the  Tailor  and  Upholsterer  mainly,  and  men 
were  buckram  masks  that  went  about  becking  and  grimacing 
there,  —  on  a  sudden,  the  Earth  yawns  asunder,  and  amid 
Tartarean  smoke,  and  glare  of  fierce  brightness,  rises  Sans¬ 
culottism,  many-headed,  fire-breathing,  and  asks  :  What  think 
ye  of  me  ?  Well  may  the  buckram  masks  start  together, 
terror-struck  ;  “  into  expressive  well-concerted  groups  !  ”  It  \ 
is  indeed,  Friends,  a  most  singular,  most  fatal  thing.  Let  who-  ( 
soever  is  but  buckram  and  a  phantasm  look  to  it :  ill  verily 
may  it  fare  with  him ;  here  methinks  he  cannot  much  longer  ; 


206  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1789. 

be.  Woe  also  to  many  a  one  who  is  not  wholly  buckram,  but 
partly  real  and  human  !  The  age  of  miracles  has  come  back  ! 
“  Behold  the  World-Phoenix,  in  fire-consummation  and  fire- 
creation  :  wide  are  her  fanning  wings ;  loud  is  her  death- 
melody,  of  battle-thunders  and  falling  towns  ;  skyward  lashes 
the  funeral  flame,  enveloping  all  things  :  it  is  the  Death-Birth 
of  a  World  !  ” 

Whereby,  however,  as  we  often  say,  shall  one  unspeakable 
blessing  seem  attainable.  This,  namely:  that  Man  and  his 
Life  rest  no  more  on  hollowness  and  a  Lie,  but  on  solidity 
and  some  kind  of  Truth.  Welcome  the  beggarliest  truth,  so 
it  be  one,  in  exchange  for  the  royalest  sham !  Truth  of  any 
kind  breeds  ever  new  and  better  truth ;  thus  hard  granite 
rock  will  crumble  down  into  soil,  under  the  blessed  skyey 
influences ;  and  cover  itself  with  verdure,  with  fruitage  and 
umbrage.  But  as  for  Falsehood,  which,  in  like  contrary 
manner,  grows  ever  falser,  —  what  can  it,  or  what  should  it 
do  but  decease,  being  ripe ;  decompose  itself,  gently  or  even 
violently,  and  return  to  the  Father  of  it,  —  too  probably  in 
flames  of  fire  ? 

Sansculottism  will  burn  much ;  but  what  is  incombustible 
it  will  not  burn.  Fear  not  Sansculottism ;  recognize  it  for 
what  it  is,  the  portentous  inevitable  end  of  much,  the  mirac¬ 
ulous  beginning  of  much.  One  other  thing  thou  mayest 
understand  of  it :  that  it  too  came  from  God ;  for  has  it  not 
been  ?  From  of  old,  as  it  is  written,  are  His  goings  forth ;  in 
the  great  Deep  of  things  ;  fearful  and  wonderful  now  as  in 
the  beginning :  in  the  whirlwind  also  He  speaks ;  and  the 
wrath  of  men  is  made  to  praise  Him. — Bfit  to  gauge  and 
measure  this  immeasurable  Thing,  and  what  is  called  account 
for  it,  and  reduce  it  to  a  dead  logic-formula,  attempt  not ! 
Much  less  shalt  thou  shriek  thyself  hoarse,  cursing  it;  for 
that,  to  all  needful  lengths,  has  been  already  done.  As  an 
actually  existing  Son  of  Time,  look,  with  unspeakable  mani¬ 
fold  interest,  oftenest  in  silence,  at  what  the  Time  did  bring : 
therewith  edify,  instruct,  nourish  thyself,  or  were  it  but 
j  amuse  and  gratify  thyself,  as  it  is  given  thee. 


MAKE  THE  CONSTITUTION. 


207 


Chap.  I. 

J  uly -August. 

Another  question  which  at  every  new  turn  will  rise  on  us, 
requiring  ever  new  reply,  is  this :  Where  the  French  Revolu¬ 
tion  specially  is?  In  the  King’s  Palace,  in  his  Majesty’s  or 
her  Majesty’s  managements,  and  maltreatments,  cabals,  im¬ 
becilities  and  woes,  answer  some  few:  —  whom  we  do  not 
answer.  In  the  National  Assembly,  answer  a  large  mixed 
multitude :  who  accordingly  seat  themselves  in  the  Report¬ 
er’s  Chair ;  and  therefrom  noting  what  Proclamations,  Acts, 
Reports,  passages  of  logic-fence,  bursts  of  parliamentary  elo¬ 
quence  seem  notable  within  doors,  and  what  tumults  and  ru¬ 
mors  of  tumult  become  audible  from  without,  produce  volume 
on  volume  ;  and,  naming  it  History  of  the  French  Revolution, 
contentedly  publish  the  same.  To  do  the  like,  to  almost  any 
extent,  with  so  many  Filed  Newspapers,  Choix  des  Rapports , 
Histoires  Parlementaires  as  there  are,  amounting  to  many 
horseloads,  were  easy  for  us.  Easy  but  unprofitable.  The 
National  Assembly,  named  now  Constituent  Assembly  goes 
its  course;  making  the  Constitution;  but  the  French  Revolu¬ 
tion  alsot-goes  its  course. 

—  In  general,  may  we  not  say  that  the  French  Revolution  lies 
\  in  the  Reaft  and  head  of  every  violent-speaking,  of  every 
j  violent-thinking  French  Man  ?  How  the  Twenty-five  Mil¬ 
lions  of  such,  in  their  perplexed  combination,  "acting  and 
counter-acting,  may  give  birth  to  events  ;  which  event  suc¬ 
cessively  is  the  cardinal  one ;  and  from  what  point  of  vision 
it  may  best  be  surveyed :  this  is  a  problem.  Which  problem 
the  best  insight,  seeking  light  from  all  possible  sources,  shift¬ 
ing  its  point  of  vision  whithersoever  vision  or  glimpse  of 
vision  can  be  had,  may  employ  itself  in  solving ;  and  be  well 
content  to  solve  in  some  tolerably  approximate  way. 

As  to  the  National  Assembly,  in  so  far  as  it  still  towers 
eminent  over  France,  after  the  manner  of  a  car-borne  Car- 
roccio,  though  now  no  longer  in  the  van ;  and  rings  signals  for 
retreat  or  for  advance,  —  it  is  and  continues  a  reality  among 
other  realities.  But  in  so  far  as  it  sits  making  the  Constitu¬ 
tion,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  fatuity  and  chimera  mainly. 
Alas,  in  the  never  so  heroic  building  of  Montesquieu-Mably 
card-castles,  though  shouted  over  by  the  world,  what  interest 


208  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1789. 

is  there  ?  Occupied  in  that  way,  an  august  National  Assem¬ 
bly  becomes  for  us  little  other  than  a  Sanhedrim  of  Pedants, 
not  of  the  gerund-grinding,  yet  of  no  fruitfuler  sort ;  and  its 
loud  debatings  and  recriminations  about  Eights  of  Man,  Eight 
of  Peace  and  War,  Veto  suspensif  Veto  absolu,  what  are  they 
but  so  many  Pedant’s-curses,  “May  God  confound  you  for 
your  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs  !  ” 

A  Constitution  can  be  built,  Constitutions  enough  a  la 
Sieges  :  but  the  frightful  difficulty  is,  that  of  getting  men  to 
come  and  live  in  them !  Could  Sieyes  have  drawn  thunder 
and  lightning  out  of  Heaven  to  sanction  his  Constitution,  it 
had  been  well:  but  without  any  thunder?  Nay,  strictly  con¬ 
sidered,  is  it  not  still  true  that  without  some  such  celestial 
sanction,  given  visibly  in  thunder  or  invisibly  otherwise,  no 
Constitution  can  in  the  long-run  be  worth  much  more  than 
the  waste-paper  it  is  written  on  ?  The  Constitution,  the  set 
of  Laws,  or  prescribed  Habits  of  Acting,  that  men  will  live 
under,  is  the  one  which  images  their  Convictions, — their 
Faith  as  to  this  wondrous  Universe,  and  what  rights,  duties, 
capabilities  they  have  there :  which  stands  sanctioned,  there¬ 
fore,  by  Necessity  itself ;  if  not  by  a  seen  Deity,  then  by  an 
unseen  one.  Other  Laws,  whereof  there  are  always  enough 
ready- made,  are  usurpations  ;  which  men  do  not  obey,  but 
rebel  against,  and  abolish  at  their  earliest  convenience. 

The  question  of  questions  accordingly  were,  Who  is  it  that, 
especially  for  rebellers  and  abolishers,  can  make  a  Constitu¬ 
tion  ?  He  that  can  image  forth  the  general  Belief  when  there 
is  one  ;  that  can  impart  one  when,  as  here,  there  is  none.  A 
most  rare  man ;  ever,  as  of  old,  a  god-missioned  man !  Here, 
however,  in  defect  of  such  transcendent  supreme  man,  Time 
with  its  infinite  succession  of  merely  superior  men,  each  yield¬ 
ing  his  little  contribution,  does  much.  Force  likewise  (for,  as 
Antiquarian  Philosophers  teach,  the  royal  Sceptre  was  from 
the  first  something  of  a  Hammer,  to  crack  such  heads  as  could 
not  be  convinced)  will  all  along  find  somewhat  to  do.  And 
thus  in  perpetual  abolition  arid  reparation,  rending  and  mend¬ 
ing,  with  struggle  and  strife,  with  present  evil,  and  the  hope 


Chap.  i.  MAKE  THE  CONSTITUTION.  209 

Julv-August. 

and  effort  towards  future  good,  must  the  Constitution,  as  all 
human  things  do,  build  itself  forward ;  or  unbuild  itself,  and 
sink,  as  it  can  and  may.  0  Sieyes,  and  ye  other  Committee¬ 
men,  and  Twelve  Hundred  miscellaneous  individuals  from  all 
parts  of  France !  what  is  the  Belief  of  France,  and  yours,  if 
ye  knew  it  ?  Properly  that  there  shall  be  no  Belief ;  that  all 
formulas  be  swallowed.  The  Constitution  which  will  suit 
that?  Alas,  too  clearly,  a  No-Constitution,  an  Anarchy;  — 
which  also,  in  due  season,  shall  be  vouchsafed  you. 

But,  after  all,  what  can  an  unfortunate  National  Assembly 
do  ?  Consider  only  this,  that  there  are  Twelve  Hundred  mis¬ 
cellaneous  individuals  ;  not  a  unit  of  whom  but  has  his  own 
thinking-apparatus,  his  own  speaking-apparatus !  In  every 
unit  of  them  is  some  belief  and  wish,  different  for  each,  both 
that  France  should  be  regenerated,  and  also  that  he  individ¬ 
ually  should  do  it.  Twelve  Hundred  separate  Forces,  yoked 
miscellaneously  to  any  object,  miscellaneously  to  all  sides  of 
it ;  and  bidden  pull  for  life  ! 

Or  is  it  the  nature  of  National  Assemblies  generally  to  do, 
with  endless  labor  and  clangor,  Nothing  ?  Are  Bepresenta- 
tive  Governments  mostly  at  bottom  Tyrannies  too  ?  Shall  we 
say,  the  Tyrants ,  the  ambitious  contentious  Persons,  from  all 
corners  of  the  country  do,  in  this  manner,  get  gathered  into 
one  place  ;  and  there,  with  motion  and  counter-motion,  with 
jargon  and  hubbub,  cancel  one  another,  like  the  fabulous  Kil¬ 
kenny  Cats  ;  and  produce,  for  net  result,  zero  ;  —  the  country 
meanwhile  governing  or  guiding  itself,  by  such  wisdom,  recog* 
nized,  or  for  most  part  unrecognized,  as  may  exist  in  individ¬ 
ual  heads  here  and  there?  —  Nay,  even  that  were  a  great 
improvement :  for  of  old,  with  their  Guelf  Factions  and  Ghi- 
belline  Factions,  with  their  Bed  Boses  and  White  Boses,  they 
were  wont  to  cancel  the  whole  country  as  well.  Besides  they 
do  it  now  in  a  much  narrower  cockpit ;  within  the  four  walls 
of  their  Assembly  House,  and  here  and  there  an  outpost  of 
Hustings  and  Barrel-heads  ;  do  it  with  tongues  too,  not  with 
swords: — all  which  improvements,  in  the  art  of  producing 
zero,  are  they  not  great  ?  Nay,  best  of  all,  some  happy  Conti¬ 
nents  (as  the  Western  one,  with  its  Savannas,  where  whoso- 
vol.  in.  14 


210 


CONSOLIDATION. 


Book  VI. 
1789. 


ever  has  four  willing  limbs  finds  food  under  his  feet,  and  an 
infinite  sky  over  his  head)  can  do  without  governing.  —  What 
Sphinx-questions ;  which  the  distracted  world,  in  these  very 
generations,  must  answer  or  die ! 


♦ 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  CONSTITUENT  ASSEMBLY. 

One  thing  an  elected  Assembly  of  Twelve  Hundred  is  fit 
for  :  Destroying.  Which  indeed  is  but  a  more  decided  exer¬ 
cise  of  its  natural  talent  for  Doing  Nothing.  Do  nothing, 
only  keep  agitating,  debating ;  and  things  will  destroy  them¬ 
selves. 

So  and  not  otherwise  proved  it  with  an  august  National 
Assembly.  It  took  the  name  Constituent,  as  if  its  mission 
and  function  had  been  to  construct  or  build ;  which  also,  with 
its  whole  soul,  it  endeavored  to  do  :  yet,  in  the  fates,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  there  lay  for  it  precisely  of  all  functions  the 
most  opposite  to  that.  Singular,  what  Gospels  men  will  be¬ 
lieve ;  even  Gospels  according  to  Jean  Jacques!  It  was  the 
fixed  Faith  of  these  National  Deputies,  as  of  all  thinking 
Frenchmen,  that  the  Constitution  could  be  made  ;  that  they, 
there  and  then,  were  called  to  make  it.  How,  with  the  tough¬ 
ness  of  old  Hebrews  or  Ishmaelite  Moslem,  did  the  otherwise 
light  unbelieving  People  persist  in  this  their  Credo  quia  impos- 
sibile ;  and  front  the  armed  world  with  it,  and  grow  fanatic 
and  even  heroic,  and  do  exploits  by  it !  The  Constituent  As¬ 
sembly’s  Constitution,  and  several  others,  will,  being  printed 
and  not  manuscript,  survive  to  future  generations,  as  an  in¬ 
structive  well-nigh  incredible  document  of  the  Time :  the  most 
significant  Picture  of  the  then  existing  France  ;  or  at  lowest, 
Picture  of  these  men’s  Picture  of  it. 

But  in  truth  and  seriousness,  what  could  the  National 
Assembly  have  done  ?  The  thing  to  be  done  was,  actually  as 


211 


Chap.  II.  THE  CONSTITUENT  ASSEMBLY. 

July- Aug.  4. 

they  said,  to  regenerate  France ;  to  abolish  the  old  France, 
and  make  a  new  one,  quietly  or  forcibly,  by  concession  or  by 
violence  :  this  by  the  Law  of  Nature  has  become  inevitable. 
With  what  degree  of  violence,  depends  oh  the  wisdom  of  those 
that  preside  over  it.  With  perfect  wisdom  on  the  part  of  the 
National  Assembly,  it  had  all  been  otherwise  ;  but  whether,  in 
any  wise,  it  could  have  been  pacific,  nay  other  than  bloody 
and  convulsive,  may  still  be  a  question. 

Grant,  meanwhile,  that  this  Constituent  Assembly  does  to 
the  last  continue  to  be  something.  With  a  sigh,  it  sees  itself 
incessantly  forced  away  from  its  infinite  divine  task  of  per¬ 
fecting  “the  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs,”  — to  finite  terrestrial 
tasks,  which  latter  have  still  a  significance  for  us.  It  is  the 
cynosure  of  revolutionary  France,  this  National  Assembly. 
All  work  of  Government  has  fallen  into  its  hands,  or  under  its 
control  j  all  men  look  to  it  for  guidance.  In  the  middle  of 
that  huge  Revolt  of  Twenty-five  Millions,  it  hovers  always 
aloft  as  Carroccio  or  Battle-Standard,  impelling  and  impelled, 
in  the  most  confused  way :  if  it  cannot  give  much  guidance,  it 
will  still  seem  to  give  some.  It  emits  pacificatory  Proclama¬ 
tions  not  a  few  ;  with  more  or  with  less  result.  It  authorizes 
the  enrolment  of  National  Guards, — lest  Brigands  come  to 
devour  us,  and  reap  the  unripe  crops.  It  sends  missions  to 
quell  “  effervescences ;  ”  to  deliver  men  from  the  Lanterne.  It 
can  listen  to  congratulatory  Addresses,  which  arrive  daily  by 
the  sackful ;  mostly  in  King  Cambyses’  vein :  also  to  Petitions 
and  complaints  from  all  mortals ;  so  that  every  .mortal’s  com¬ 
plaint,  if  it  cannot  get  redressed,  may  at  least  hear  itself 
complain.  For  the  rest,  an  august  National  Assembly  can 
produce  Parlementary .  Eloquence  ;  and  appoint  Committees. 
Committees  of  the  Constitution,  of  Reports,  of  Researches ; 
and  of  much  else :  which  again  yield  mountains  of  Printed 
Paper ;  the  theme  of  new  Parlementary  Eloquence,  in  bursts 
or  in  plenteous  smooth-flowing  floods.  And  so,  from  the 
waste  vortex  whereon  all  things  go  whirling  and  grinding, 
Organic  Laws,  or  the  similitude  of  such,  slowly  emerge. 

With  endless  debating,  we  get  the  Rights  of  Man  written 


212  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1789. 

down  and  promulgated :  true  paper  basis  of  all  paper  Consti¬ 
tutions.  Neglecting,  cry  the  opponents,  to  declare  the  Duties 
of  Man !  Forgetting,  answer  we,  to  ascertain  the  Mights  of 
Man;  —  one  of  the  fatalest  omissions! — Nay  sometimes,  as 
on  the  Fourth  of  August,  our  National  Assembly,  fired  sud¬ 
denly  by  an  almost  preternatural  enthusiasm,  will  get  through 
whole  masses  of  work  in  one  night.  A  memorable  night,  this 
Fourth  of  August  :  Dignitaries  temporal  and  spiritual ;  Peers, 
Archbishops,  Parlement-Presidents,  each  outdoing  the  other 
•in  patriotic  devotedness,  come  successively  to  throw  their  now 
untenable  possessions  on  the  “  altar  of  the  fatherland.”  With 
louder  and  louder  vivats , — for  indeed  it  is  “  after  dinner” 
too,  —  they  abolish  Tithes,  Seignorial  Dues,  Gabelle,  excessive 
Preservation  of  Game ;  nay  Privilege,  Immunity,  Feudalism 
root  and  branch ;  then  appoint  a  Te  Deum  for  it ;  and  so, 
finally,  disperse  about  three  in  the  morning,  striking  the  stars 
with  their  sublime  heads.  Such  night,  unforeseen  but  forever 
memorable,  was  this  of  the  Fourth  of  August,  1789.  Miracu¬ 
lous,  or  semi-miraculous,  some  seem  to  think  it.  A  new  Night 
of  Pentecost,  shall  we  say,  shaped  according  to  the  new  Time, 
and  new  Church  of  Jean  Jacques  Eousseau  ?  It  had  its 
causes  ;  also  its  effects. 

In  such  manner  labor  the  National  Deputies ;  perfecting 
their  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs  ;  governing  France,  and  being 
governed  by  it ;  with  toil  and  noise ;  —  cutting  asunder  ancient 
intolerable  bonds ;  and,  for  new  ones,  assiduously  spinning 
ropes  of  sand.  Were  their  labors  a  nothing  or  a  something, 
yet  the  eyes  of  all  France  being  reverently  fixed  on  them, 
History  can  never  very  long  leave  them  altogether  out  of 
sight. 

For  the  present,  if  we  glance  into  that  Assembly-Hall  of 
theirs,  it  will  be  found,  as  is  natural,  “most  irregular.”  As 
many  as  “  a  hundred  members  are  on  their  feet  at  once ;  ”  no 
rule  in  making  motions,  or  only  commencements  of  a  rule ; 
Spectators’  Gallery  allowed  to  applaud,  and  even  to  hiss;1 
President,  appointed  once  a  fortnight,  raising  many  times  no 

1  Arthur  Young,  i.  111. 


Chap.  II.  THE  CONSTITUENT  ASSEMBLY.  213 

July -Aug.  4. 

serene  head  above  the  waves.  Nevertheless,  as  in  all  human 
Assemblages,  like  does  begin  arranging  itself  to  like ;  the 
perennial  rule,  Ubi  homines  sunt  modi  sunt ,  proves  valid.  Rudi¬ 
ments  of  Methods  disclose  themselves ;  rudiments  of  Parties. 
There  is  a  Right  Side  ( Cote  Droit),  a  Left  Side  ( Cote  Gauclie )  ; 
sitting  on  M.  le  President’s  right  hand,  or  on  his  left :  the 
Cote  Droit  conservative ;  the  Cote,  Gauche  destructive.  Inter¬ 
mediate  is  Anglomaniac  Constitutionalism,  or  Two-Chamber 
Royalism ;  with  its  Mouniers,  its  Lallys,  —  fast  verging  to¬ 
wards  nonentity.  Pre-eminent,  on  the  Right  side,  pleads  and 
perorates  Cazales  the  Dragoon-captain,  eloquent,  mildly  fer¬ 
vent;  earning  for  himself  the  shadow  of  a  name.  There  also 
blusters  Barrel  Mirabeau,  the  Younger  Mirabeau,  not  without 
wit:  dusky  D’Espremenil  does  nothing  but  sniff  and  ejacu¬ 
late  ;  might,  it  is  fondly  thought,  lay  prostrate  the  Elder 
Mirabeau  himself,  would  he  but  try,1  —  which  he  does  not. 
Last  and  greatest,  see,  for  one  moment,  the  Abbe  Maury; 
with  his  jesuitic  eyes,  his  impassive  brass  face,  “image  of 
all  the  cardinal  sins.”  Indomitable,  unquenchable,  he  fights 
jesuitico-rhetorically ;  with  toughest  lungs  and  heart ;  for 
Throne,  especially  for  Altar  and  Tithes.  So  that  a  shrill 
voice  exclaims  once,  from  the  Gallery  :  “  Messieurs  of  the 
Clergy,  you  have  to  be  shaved ;  if  you  wriggle  too  much,  you 
will  get  cut.”  2 

The  Left  side  is  also  called  the  D’Orl4ans  side ;  and 
sometimes,  derisively,  the  Palais  Royal.  And  yet,  so  con¬ 
fused,  real-imaginary  seems  everything,  “it  is  doubtful,”  as 
Mirabeau  said,  “whether  D’Orleans  himself  belong  to  that 
same  D’Orleans  party.”  What  can  be  known  and  seen  is, 
that  his  moon-visage  does  beam  forth  from  that  point  of 
space.  There  likewise  sits  sea-green  Robespierre ;  throwing 
in  his  light  weight,  with  decision,  not  yet  with  effect.  A 
thin  lean  Puritan  and  Precisian,  he  would  make  away  with 
formulas ;  yet  lives,  moves  and  has  his  being  wholly  in  for¬ 
mulas,  of  another  sort.  “  Peuple ,”  such,  according  to  Robes¬ 
pierre,  ought  to  be  the  Royal  method  of  promulgating  Laws, 

1  Biogrnphie.  UniverseUe,  §  D’Espremenil  (by  Beaulieu). 

2  Dictionnaire  des  Hommes  Marquans ,  ii.  519. 


214  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI, 

1789. 

“  Peuple,  this  is  the  Law  I  have  framed  for  thee ;  dost  thou 
accept  it  ?  ”  —  answered,  from  Eight  side,  from  Centre  and 
Left,  by  inextinguishable  laughter.1  Yet  men  of  insight  dis¬ 
cern  that  the  Sea-green  may  by  chance  go  far :  “  This  man,” 
observes  Mirabeau,  “will  do  somewhat;  he  believes  every 
word  he  says.” 

Abbe  Sieyes  is  busy  with  mere  Constitutional  work ; 
wherein,  unluckily,  fellow-workmen  are  less  pliable  than,  with 
one  who  has  completed  the  Science  of  Polity,  they  ought  to 
be.  Courage,  Sieyes,  nevertheless !  Some  twenty  months  of 
heroic  travail,  of  contradiction  from  the  stupid,  and  the  Con¬ 
stitution  shall  be  built ;  the  top-stone  of  it  brought  out  with 
shouting,  —  say  rather,  the  top-paper,  for  it  is  all  Paper ;  and 
thou  hast  done  in  it  what  the  Earth  or  the  Heaven  could 
require,  thy  utmost.  Note  likewise  this  Trio ;  memorable 
for  several  things;  memorable  were  it  only  that  their  his¬ 
tory  is  written  in  an  epigram :  “  Whatsoever  these  Three  have 
in  hand,”  it  is  said,  “Duport  thinks  it,  Barnave  speaks  it, 
Lameth  does  it.” 2 

But  royal  Mirabeau  ?  Conspicuous  among  all  parties,  raised 
above  and  beyond  them  all,  this  man  rises  more  and  more. 
As  we  often  say,  he  has  an  eye,  he  is  a  reality ;  while 
others  are  formulas  and  eye-ylasses.  In  the  Transient  he  will 
detect  the  Perennial ;  find  some  firm  footing  even  among 
Paper-vortexes.  His  fame  is  gone  forth  to  all  lands ;  it  glad¬ 
dened  the  heart  of  the  crabbed  old  Eriend  of  Men  himself 
before  he  died.  The  very  Postilions  of  inns  have  heard  of 
Mirabeau ;  when  an  impatient  Traveller  complains  that  the 
team  is  insufficient,  his  Postilion  answers,  “Yes,  Monsieur, 
the  wheelers  are  weak ;  but  my  mirabeau  (main  horse),  you 
see,  is  a  right  one,  mais  mon  mirabeau  est  excellent .”  8 

And  now,  Header,  thou  shalt  quit  this  noisy  Discrepancy 
of  a  National  Assembly;  not  (if  thou  be  of  humane  mind) 
without  pity.  Twelve  Hundred  brother  men  are  there,  in 
the  centre  of  Twenty-five  Millions ;  fighting  so  fiercely  with 

1  Moniteur,  No.  67  (in  Hist.  ParL).  2  See  Toulongeon,  i.  c.  3. 

8  Dumont :  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  255. 


215 


Chap.  III.  THE  GENERAL  OVERTURN. 

July- August. 

Fate  and  with  one  another ;  struggling  their  lives  out,  as 
most  sons  of  Adam  do,  for  that  which  profiteth  not.  Nay, 
on  the  whole,  it  is  admitted  further  to  be  very  dull.  “Dull 
as  this  day’s  Assembly,”  said  some  one.  “  Why  date,  Pour- 
quoi  dater  ?  ”  answered  Mirabeau. 

Consider  that  they  are  Twelve  Hundred;  that  they  not 
only  speak,  but  read  their  speeches ;  and  even  borrow  and 
steal  speeches  to  read !  With  Twelve  Hundred  fluent  speak¬ 
ers,  and  their  Noah’s  Deluge  of  vociferous  commonplace, 
silence  unattainable  may  well  seem  the  one  blessing  of  Life. 
But  figure  Twelve  Hundred  pamphleteers ;  droning  forth  per¬ 
petual  pamphlets:  and  no  man  to  gag  them!  Neither,  as  in 
the  American  Congress,  do  the  arrangements  seem  perfect. 
A  Senator  has  not  his  own  Desk  and  Newspaper  here ;  of 
Tobacco  (much  less  of  Pipes)  there  is  not  the  slightest  pro¬ 
vision.  Conversation  itself  has  to  be  transacted  in  a  low 
tone,  with  continual  interruption :  only  “  Pencil-notes  ”  circu¬ 
late  freely,  “in  incredible  numbers,  to  the  foot  of  the  very 
tribune.”  1  Such  work  is  it,  regenerating  a  Nation ;  perfect¬ 
ing  one’s  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs  ! 


CHAPTER  III. 

* 

THE  GENERAL  OVERTURN. 

Of  the  King’s  Court,  for  the  present,  there  is  almost  nothing 
whatever  to  be  said.  Silent,  deserted  are  these  halls  ;  Royalty 
languishes  forsaken  of  its  war-god  and  all  its  hopes,  till  once 
the  CEil-de-Boeuf  rally  again.  The  sceptre  is  departed  from 
King  Louis ;  is  gone  over  to  the  Salle-des-Menus,  to  the  Paris 
Town-hall,  or  one  knows  not  whither.  In  the  July  days,  while 
all  ears  were  yet  deafened  by  the  crash  of  the  Bastille,  and 
Ministers  and  Princes  were  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  very  Valets  had  grown  heavy  of  hearing. 

1  See  Dumont  (pp.  159-167) ;  Arthur  Young,  &c. 


216  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1789. 

Besenval,  also  in  flight  towards  Infinite  Space,  but  hovering 
a  little  at  Versailles,  was  addressing  his  Majesty  person¬ 
ally  for  an  Order  about  post-horses  ;  when,  lo,  “  the  Valet-in¬ 
waiting  places  himself  familiarly  between  his  Majesty  and 
me,”  stretching  out  his  rascal  neck  to  learn  what  it  was  !  His 
Majesty,  in  sudden  choler,  whirled  round;  made  a  clutch  at 
the  tongs :  “  I  gently  prevented  him  ;  he  grasped  my  hand 
in  thankfulness ;  and  I  noticed  tears  in  his  eyes.”  1 

Poor  King ;  for  French  Kings  also  are  men !  Louis  Four¬ 
teenth  himself  once  clutched  the  tongs,  and  even  smote  with 
them ;  but  then  it  was  at  Louvois,  and  Dame  Maintenon  ran 
up.  —  The  Queen  sits  weeping  in  her  inner  apartments,  sur¬ 
rounded  by  weak  women  :  she  is  “  at  the  height  of  unpopu¬ 
larity  ;  ”  universally  regarded  as  the  evil  genius  of  France. 
Her  friends  and  familiar  counsellors  have  all  fled ;  and  fled, 
surely,  on  the  foolishest  errand.  The  Chateau  Polignac  still 
frowns  aloft,  on  its  “  bold  and  enormous  cubical  rock,”  amid 
the  blooming  champaigns,  amid  the  blue  girdling  mountains 
of  Auvergne  : 2  but  no  Duke  and  Duchess  Polignac  look  forth 
from  it ;  they  have  fled,  they  have  “  met  Keeker  at  Bale ;  ” 
they  shall  not  return.  That  France  should  see  her  Nobles 
resist  the  Irresistible,  Inevitable,  writh  the  face  of  angry  men, 
was  unhappy,  not  unexpected ;  but  with  the  face  and  sense 
of  pettish  children  ?  This  was  her  peculiarity.  They  under¬ 
stood  nothing ;  would  understand  nothing.  Does  not,  at  this 
hour,  a  new  Polignac,  first-born  of  these  Two,  sit  reflective  in 
the  Castle  of  Ham  ; 3  in  an  astonishment  he  will  never  recover 
from  ;  the  most  confused  of  existing  mortals  ? 

King  Louis  has  his  new  Ministry  :  mere  Popularities ;  Old- 
President  Pompignan  ;  Necker,  coming  back  in  triumph ;  and 
other  such.4  But  what  will  it  avail  him  ?  As  w'as  said,  the 
sceptre,  all  but  the  wooden  gilt  sceptre,  has  departed  else¬ 
whither.  Volition,  determination  is  not  in  this  man:  only 
innocence,  indolence  ;  dependence  on  all  persons  but  himself, 
on  all  circumstances  but  the  circumstances  he  were  lord  of. 
So  troublous  internally  is  our  Versailles  and  its  work.  Beau- 


1  Besenval,  iii.  419. 
3  a.d.  1835. 


2  Arthur  Young,  i.  165. 
4  Montgaillard,  ii  108. 


chap.  III.  THE  GENERAL  OVERTURN.  217 

July- August. 

tiful,  if  seen  from  afar,  resplendent  like  a  Sun ;  seen  near 
at  hand,  a  mere  Sun’s- Atmosphere,  hiding  darkness,  confused 
ferment  of  ruin ! 

But  over  France,  there  goes  on  the  indisputablest  “  de¬ 
struction  of  formulas ;  ”  transaction  of  realities  that  follow 
therefrom.  So  many  millions  of  persons,  all  gyved,  and  nigh 
strangled,  with  formulas  ;  whose  Life  nevertheless,  at  least 
the  digestion  and  hunger  of  it,  was  real  enough  !  Heaven 
has  at  length  sent  an  abundant  harvest :  but  what  profits  it 
the  poor  man,  when  Earth  with  her  formulas  interposes  ? 
Industry,  in  these  times  of  insurrection,  must  needs  lie  dor¬ 
mant  ;  capital,  as  usual,  not  circulating,  but  stagnating  timo¬ 
rously  in  nooks.  The  poor  man  is  short  of  work,  is  therefore 
short  of  money ;  nay  even  had  he  money,  bread  is  not  to  be 
bought  for  it.  Were  it  plotting  of  Aristocrats,  plotting  of 
D’ Orleans ;  were  it  Brigands,  preternatural  terror,  and  the 
clang  of  Phoebus  Apollo’s  silver  bow,  —  enough,  the  markets 
are  scarce  of  grain,  plentiful  only  in  tumult.  Farmers  seem 
lazy  to  thresh  ;  —  being  either  “  bribed ;  ”  or  needing  no  bribe, 
with  prices  ever  rising,  with  perhaps  rent  itself  no  longer 
so  pressing.  Neither,  what  is  singular,  do  municipal  enact¬ 
ments,  “That  along  with  so  many  measures  of  wheat  you 
shall  sell  so  many  of  rye,”  and  other  the  like,  much  mend 
the  matter.  Dragoons  with  drawn  swords  stand  ranked  among 
the  corn-sacks,  often  more  dragoons  than  sacks.1  Meal-mobs 
abound ;  growing  into  mobs  of  a  still  darker  quality. 

Starvation  has  been  known  among  the  French  Commonalty 
before  this ;  known  and  familiar.  Did  not  we  see  them,  in 
the  year  1775,  presenting,  in  sallow  faces,  in  wretchedness 
and  raggedness,  their  Petition  of  Grievances  ;  and,  for  an¬ 
swer,  getting  a  brand-new  Gallows  forty  feet  high  ?  Hunger 
and  Darkness,  through  long  years  !  For  look  back  on  that 
earlier  Paris  Riot,  when  a  Great  Personage,  worn  out  by  de¬ 
bauchery,  was  believed  to  be  in  want  of  Blood-baths ;  and 
Mothers,  in  worn  raiment,  yet  with  living  hearts  under  it, 

“  filled  the  public  places  ”  with  their  wild  Rachel-cries,  — stilled 
•  * 

1  Arthur  Young,  i.  129,  &c. 


218 


CONSOLIDATION. 


Book  VI. 
1789. 

also  by  the  Gallows.  Twenty  years  ago,  the  Friend  of  Men 
(preaching  to  the  deaf)  described  the  Limousin  Peasants  as 
wearing  a  “  pain-stricken  ( souffre-douleur )  look,”  a  look  past 
complaint;  “as  if  the  oppression  of  the  great  were  like  the 
hail  and  the  thunder,  a  thing  irremediable,  the  ordinance  of 
Nature.”  1  And  now  if,  in  some  great  hour,  the  shock  of  a 
falling  Bastille  should  awaken  you ;  and  it  were  found  to  be 
the  ordinance  of  Art  merely ;  and  remediable,  reversible ! 

Or  has  the  Leader  forgotten  that  “  flood  of  savages,”  which, 
in  sight  of  the  same  Friend  of  Men,  descended  from  the  moun¬ 
tains  at  Mont  d’Or  ?  Lank-haired  haggard  faces ;  shapes 
rawboned,  in  high  sabots,  in  woollen  jupes,  with  leather  girdles 
studded  with  copper  nails !  They  rocked  from  foot  to  foot, 
and  beat  time  with  their  elbow’s  too,  as  the  quarrel  and  battle, 
which  was  not  long  in  beginning,  went  on ;  shouting  fiercely  ; 
the  lank  faces  distorted  into  the  similitude  of  a  cruel  laugh. 
For  they  were  darkened  and  hardened :  long  had  they  been 
the  prey  of  excise-men  and  tax-men ;  of  “  clerks  with  the  cold 
spurt  of  their  pen.”  It  was  the  fixed  prophecy  of  our  old 
Marquis,  which  no  man  would  listen  to,  that  “  such  Govern¬ 
ment  by  Blind-man’s-buff,  stumbling  along  too  far,  would  end 
by  the  General  Overturn,  the  Culbute  Generate  !  ” 

No  man  would  listen;  each  went  his  thoughtless  way;  — 
and  Time  and  Destiny  also  travelled  on.  The  Government  by 
Blind-man’s-buff,  stumbling  along,  has  reached  the  precipice 
inevitable  for  it.  Dull  Drudgery,  driven  on,  by  clerks  with 
the  cold  dastard  spurt  of  their  pen,  has  been  driven  —  into  a 
Communion  of  Drudges  !  For  now,  moreover,  there  have 
come  the  strangest  confused  tidings  ;  by  Paris  J ournals  with 
their  paper  wings  ;  or  still  more  portentous,  where  no  Journals 
are,2  by  rumor  and  conjecture  :  Oppression  not  inevitable  ;  a 
Bastille  prostrate,  and  the  Constitution  fast  getting  ready ! 
Which  Constitution,  if  it  be  something  and  not  nothing,  what 
can  it  be  but  bread  to  eat  ? 

The  Traveller,  “  walking  up-hill,  bridle  in  hand,”  over¬ 
takes  “  a  poor  woman  ;  ”  the  image,  as  such  commonly  are,  of 

1  Fils  Adoptif  :  Memoir es  de  Mirabeau,  i.  364-394.. 

2  See  Arthur  Young,  i.  137,  150,  &c. 


Chap.  III.  THE  GENERAL  OVERTURN.  219 

July- August. 

drudgery  and  scarcity ;  “  looking  sixty  years  of  age,  though  she 
is  not  yet  twenty-eight.”  They  have  seven  children,  her  poor 
drudge  and  she  :  a  farm,  with  one  cow,  which  helps  to  make 
the  children  soup  ;  also  one  little  horse,  or  garron.  They  have 
rents  and  quit-rents,  Hens  to  pay  to  this  Seigneur,  Oat-sacks 
to  that ;  King’s  taxes,  Statute-labor,  Church  taxes,  taxes 
enough  ;  —  and  think  the  times  inexpressible.  She  has  heard 
that  som e  where,  in  some  manner,  something  is  to  be  done  for 
the  poor :  “  God  send  it  soon  ;  for  the  dues  and  taxes  crush  us 
down  (nous  ecrasent )  !  ”  1 

Fair  prophecies  are  spoken,  but  they  are  not  fulfilled.  There 
have  been  Notables,  Assemblages,  turnings-out  and  comings-in. 
Intriguing  and  manoeuvring ;  Parlementary  eloquence  and 
arguing,  Greek  meeting  Greek  in  high  places,  has  long  gone 
on ;  yet  still  bread  comes  not.  The  harvest  is  reaped  and 
garnered;  yet  still  we  have  no  bread.  Urged  by  despair  and 
by  hope,  what  can  Drudgery  do,  but  rise,  as  predicted,  and  pro¬ 
duce  the  General  Overturn  ? 

Fancy,  then,  some  Five  full-grown  Millions  of  such  gaunt 
figures,  with  their  haggard  faces  (figures  haves)  ;  in  woollen 
jupes,  with  copper-studded  leather  girths,  and  high  sabots, 
starting  up  to  ask,  as  in  forest-roarings,  their  washed  Upper- 
Classes,  after  long  unreviewed  centuries,  virtually  this  ques¬ 
tion  :  How  have  ye  treated  us ;  how  have  ye  taught  us,  fed 
us  and  led  us,  while  we  toiled  for  you  ?  The  answer  can  be  * 
read  in  flames,  over  the  nightly  summer-sky.  This  is  the 
feeding  and  leading  we  have  had  of  you :  Emptiness,  —  of 
pocket,  of  stomach,  of  head  and  of  heart.  Behold  there  is 
nothing  in  us;  nothing  but  what  Nature  gives  her  wild  chil¬ 
dren  of  the  desert :  Ferocity  and  Appetite  ;  Strength  grounded! 
on  Hunger.  Did  ye  mark  among  your  Rights  of  Man,  that 
man  was  not  to  die  of  starvation,  while  there  was  bread  reaped 
by  him  ?  It  is  among  the  Mights  of  Man. 

Seventy-two  Chateaus  have  flamed  aloft  in  the  Maconnais 
and  Beaujolais  alone :  this  seems  the  centre  of  the  conflagra¬ 
tion  ;  but  it  has  spread  over  Dauphine,  Alsace,  the  Lyonnais ; 
the  whole  Southeast  is  in  a  blaze.  All  over  the  North,  from 

1  See  Arthur  Young,  i.  134. 


220  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1789. 

Rouen  to  Metz,  disorder  is  abroad :  smugglers  of  salt  go 
openly  in  armed  bands :  the  barriers  of  towns  are  burnt ;  toll- 
gatherers,  tax-gatherers,  official  persons  put  to  flight.  “  It 
was  thought,”  says  Young,  “the  people,  from  hunger,  would 
revolt ;  ”  and  we  see  they  have  done  it.  Desperate  Lackalls, 
long  prowling  aimless,  now  finding  hope  in  desperation  itself, 
everywhere  form  a  nucleus.  They  ring  the  Church-bell  by 
way  of  tocsin :  and  the  Parish  turns  out  to  the  work.1  Ferocity, 
atrocity ;  hunger  and  revenge :  such  work  as  we  can  imagine  ! 

Ill  stands  it  now  with  the  Seigneur,  who,  for  example,  “  has 
walled  up  the  only  Fountain  of  the  Township ;  ”  who  has 
ridden  high  on  his  chartier  and  parchments ;  who  has  pre¬ 
served  Game  not  wisely  but  too  well.  Churches  also,  and 
Canonries,  are  sacked,  without  mercy;  which  have  shorn  the 
flock  too  close,  forgetting  to  feed  it.  Woe  to  the  land  over 
which  Sansculottism,  in  its  day  of  vengeance,  tramps  rough¬ 
shod,  —  shod  in  sabots !  High-bred  Seigneurs,  with  their 
delicate  women  and  little  ones,  had  to  “  fly  half-naked,”  under 
cloud  of  night :  glad  to  escape  the  flames,  and  even  worse. 
You  meet  them  at  the  tables-d’hote  of  inns  ;  making  wise  reflec¬ 
tions  or  foolish,  that  “  rank  is  destroyed ;  ”  uncertain  whither 
they  shall  now  wend.2  The  metayer  will  find  it  convenient 
to  be  slack  in  paying  rent.  As  for  the  Tax-gatherer,  he,  long 
hunting  as  a  biped  of  prey,  may  now  find  himself  hunted  as 
one;  his  Majesty’s  Exchequer  will  not  “fill  up  the  Deficit” 
this  season :  it  is  the  notion  of  many,  that  a  Patriot  Majesty, 
being  the  Restorer  of  French  Liberty,  has  abolished  most 
taxes,  though,  for  their  private  ends,  some  men  make  a  secret 
of  it. 

•  Where  this  will  end  ?  In  the  Abyss,  one  may  prophesy ; 
whither  all  Delusions  are,  at  all  moments,  travelling ;  where 
this  Delusion  has  now  arrived.  For  if  there  be  a  Faith,  from 
of  old,  it  is  this,  as  we  often  repeat,  that  no  Lie  can  live  for¬ 
ever.  The  very  Truth  has  to  change  its  vesture,  from  time  to 
time ;  and  be  born  again.  But  all  Lies  have  sentence  of  death 
written  down  against  them,  in  Heaven’s  Chancery  itself ;  and, 
slowly  or  fast,  advance  incessantly  towards  their  hour.  “  The 

2  See  Young,  i.  149,  &c. 


1  Se6  Hist.  Pari.  ii.  243-246. 


Chap.  III.  THE  GENERAL  OVERTURN.  221 

July-August. 

sign  of  a  Grand  Seigneur  being  landlord,”  says  the  vehement 
plain-spoken  Arthur  Young,  “are  wastes,  landes,  deserts,  ling: 
go  to  his  residence,  yon  will  find  it  in  the  middle  of  a  forest, 
peopled  with  deer,  wild  boars  and  wolves.  The  fields  are 
scenes  of  pitiable  management,  as  the  houses  are  of  misery. 
To  see  so  many  millions  of  hands,  that  would  be  industrious, 
all  idle  and  starving :  oh,  if  I  were  legislator  of  France  for  one 
day,  I  would  make  these  great  lords  skip  again !  ”  1  0  Arthur, 

thou  now  actually  beholdest  them  skip ;  —  wilt  thou  grow  to 
grumble  at  that  too  ? 

For  long  years  and  generations  it  lasted ;  but  the  time  came. 
Featherbrain,  whom  no  reasoning  and  no  pleading  could  touch, 
the  glare  of  the  firebrand  had  to  illuminate :  there  remained 
but  that  method.  Consider  it,  look  at  it !  The  widow  is 
gathering  nettles  for  her  children’s  dinner  ;  a  perfumed  Seign¬ 
eur,  delicately  lounging  in  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  has  an  alchemy 
whereby  he  will  extract  from  her  the  third  nettle,  and  name 
it  Rent  and  Law :  such  an  arrangement  must  end.  Ought  it 
not  ?  But,  oh,  most  fearful  is  such  an  ending  !  Let  those,  to 
whom  God,  in  his  great  mercy,  has  granted  time  and  space, 
prepare  another  and  milder  one. 

To  some  it  is  a  matter  of  wonder  that  the  Seigneurs  did  not 
do  something  to  help  themselves  ;  say,  combine  and  arm  :  for 
there  were  a  “  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  them,”  all  valiant 
enough.  Unhappily,  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  scattered 
over  wide  Provinces,  divided  by  mutual  ill-will,  cannot  com¬ 
bine.  The  highest  Seigneurs,  as  we  have  seen,  had  already 
emigrated,  —  with  a  view  of  putting  France  to  the  blush. 
Neither  are  arms  now  the  peculiar  property  of  Seigneurs;  but 
of  every  mortal  who  has  ten  shillings  wherewith  to  buy  a 
second-hand  firelock. 

Besides,  those  starving  Peasants,  after  all,  have  not  four 
feet  and  claws,  that  you  could  keep  them  down  permanently 
in  that  manner.  They  are  not  even  of  black  color :  they  are 
mere  Unwashed  Seigneurs ;  and  a  Seigneur  too  has  human 
bowels  !  —  The  Seigneurs  did  what  they  could ;  enrolled  in 

1  See  Young,  i.  12,  48,  84,  &c. 


CONSOLIDATION. 


999 


Book  VI. 
1789. 


National  Guards ;  fled,  with  shrieks,  complaining  to  Heaven 
and  Earth.  One  Seigneur,  famed  Memmay  of  Quincey,  near 
Vesoul,  invited  all  the  rustics  of  his  neighborhood  to  a  ban¬ 
quet  ;  blew  up  his  Chateau  and  them  with  gunpowder ;  and 
instantaneously  vanished,  no  man  yet  knows  whither. 1  —  Some 
half-dozen  years  after,  he  came  back ;  and  demonstrated  that 
it  was  by  accident. 

Nor  are  the  Authorities  idle ;  though  unluckily,  all  Author¬ 
ities,  Municipalities  and  such  like,  are  in  the  uncertain  transi¬ 
tionary  state  ;  getting  regenerated  from  old  Monarchic  to  new 
Democratic ;  no  Official  yet  knowl  clearly  what  he  is.  Never¬ 
theless,  Mayors  old  or  new  do  gather  Marechaussees ,  National 
Guards,  Troops  of  the  line  ;  justice,  of  the  most  summary  sort, 
is  not  wanting.  The  Electoral  Committee  of  Macon,  though 
but  a  Committee,  goes  the  length  of  hanging,  for  its  own  be¬ 
hoof,  as  many  as  twenty.  The  Prevot  of  Dauphine  traverses 
the  country  “  with  a  movable  column,”  with  tipstaves,  gallows- 
ropes  ;  for  gallows  any  tree  will  serve,  and  suspend  its  culprit, 
or  “  thirteen  ”  culprits. 

Unhappy  country!  How  is  the  fair  gold-and-green  of  the 
ripe  bright  Year  defaced  with  horrid  blackness ;  black  ashes 
of  Chateaus,  black  bodies  of  gibbeted  Men !  Industry  has 
ceased  in  it ;  not  sounds  of  the  hammer  and  saw,  but  of  the 
tocsin  and  alarm-drum.  The  sceptre  has  departed,  whither 
one  knows  not ;  —  breaking  itself  in  pieces  :  here  impotent, 
there  tyrannous.  National  Guards  are  unskilful  and  of  doubt¬ 
ful  purpose ;  Soldiers  are  inclined  to  mutiny  :  there  is  danger 
that  they  two  may  quarrel,  danger  that  they  may  agree. 
Strasburg  has  seen  riots  :  a  Town-hall  torn  to  shreds,  its 
archives  scattered  white  on  the  winds;  drunk  soldiers  em¬ 
bracing  drunk  citizens  for  three  days,  and  Mayor  Dietrich 
and  Marshal  Itochambeau  reduced  nigh  to  desperation.2 

Through  the  middle  of  all  which  phenomena  is  seen,  on  his 
triumphant  transit,  “  escorted,”  through  Befort  for  instance, 
“by  fifty  National  Horsemen  and  all  the  military  music  of  the 


1  Hist.  Pari.  ii.  161. 

2  Arthur  Young,  i.  141.  Dampmartin:  Ev€nemens  qui  se  sont  passes  sous 
mesyeux,  i.  105-127. 


223 


Chap.  III.  THE  GENERAL  OVERTURN. 

July-August. 

place,”  —  M.  Necker,  returning  from  Bale  !  Glorious  as  the 
meridian ;  though  poor  Necker  himself  partly  guesses  whither 
it  is  leading.1  One  highest  culminating  day,  at  the  Paris 
Town-hall;  with  immortal  vivcits ,  with  wife  and  daughter 
kneeling  publicly  to  kiss  his  hand ;  with  Besenval’s  pardon 
granted,  —  but  indeed  revoked  before  sunset :  one  highest  day, 
but  then  lower  days,  and  ever  lower,  down  even  to  lowest ! 
Such  magic  is  in  a  name ;  and  in  the  want  of  a  name.  Like 
some  enchanted  Mambrino’s  Helmet,  essential  to  victory, 
comes  this  “ Savior  of  France;”  beshouted,  becymballed  by 
the  world:  alas,  so  soon  to  be  <Ai‘senchanted,  to  be  pitched 
shamefully  over  the  lists  as  a  Barber’s  Basin  !  Gibbon  “  could 
wish  to  show  him  ”  (in  this  ejected,  Barber’s-Basin  state)  to 
any  man  of  solidity,  who  were  minded  to  have  the  soul 
burnt  out  of  him,  and  become  a  caput  mortuum,  by  Ambition, 
unsuccessful  or  successful.2 

Another  small  phasis  we  add,  and  no  more  :  how,  in  the 
Autumn  months,  our  sharp-tempered  Arthur  has  been  “  pes¬ 
tered  for  some  daj^s  past,”  by  shot,  lead-drops  and  slugs,  “  rat¬ 
tling  five  or  six  times  into  my  chaise  and  about  my  ears ;  ”  all 
the  mob  of  the  country  gone  out  to  kill  Game  ! 3  It  is  even 
so.  On  the  Cliffs  of  Dover,  over  all  the  Marches  of  France, 
there  appear,  this  autumn,  two  signs  on  the  Earth :  emigrant 
flights  of  French  Seigneurs;  emigrant  winged  flights  of  French 
Game !  Finished,  one  may  say,  or  as  good  as  finished,  is  the 
Preservation  of  Game  on  this  Earth;  completed  for  endless 
Time.  What  part  it  had  to  play  in  the  History  of  Civiliza¬ 
tion  is  played :  plaudite  ;  exeat  ! 

In  this  manner  does  Sansculottism  blaze  up,  illustrating 
many  things  ;  — producing,  among  the  rest,  as  we  saw,  on  the 
Fourth  of  August,  that  semi-miraculous  Night  of  Pentecost 
in  the  National  Assembly ;  semi-miraculous,  which  had  its 
causes,  and  its  effects.  Feudalism  is  struck  dead;  not  on 
parchment  only,  and  by  ink ;  but  in  very  fact,  by  fire  ;  say, 

1  Biographie  Universelle,  §  Necker  (by  Lally-Tollendal). 

2  Gibbon’s  Letters.  3  Young,  i.  17G. 


224 


CONSOLIDATION; 


Book  VI. 
1789. 


by  self-combustion.  This  conflagration  of  the  Southeast  will 
abate  ;  will  be  got  scattered,  to  the  West,  or  elsewhither : 
extinguish  it  will  not,  till  the  fuel  be  all  done. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  QUEUE. 

If  we  look  now  at  Paris,  one  thing  is  too  evident :  that  the 
Bakers’  shops  have  got  their  Queues,  or  Tails ;  their  long 
strings  of  purchasers,  arranged  in  tail,  so  that  the  first  come 
be  the  first  served,  —  were  the  shop  once  open !  This  waiting 
in  tail,  not  seen  since  the  early  days  of  July,  again  makes  its 
appearance  in  August.  In  time,  we  shall  see  it  perfected  by 
practice  to  the  rank  almost  of  an  art $  and  the  art,  or  quasi¬ 
art,  of  standing  in  tail  become  one  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  Parisian  People,  distinguishing  them  from  all  other  Peo¬ 
ples  whatsoever. 

But  consider,  while  work  itself  is  so  scarce,  how  a  man 
must  not  only  realize  money,  but  stand  waiting  (if  his  wife  is 
too  weak  to  wait  and  struggle)  for  half-days  in  the  Tail,  till  he 
get  it  changed  for  dear  bad  bread !  Controversies,  to  the  length 
sometimes  of  blood  and  battery,  must  arise  in  these  exasper¬ 
ated  Queues.  Or  if  no  controversy,  then  it  is  but  one  accord¬ 
ant  Tange  Lingua  of  complaint  against  the  Powers  that  be. 
Prance  has  begun  her  long  Curriculum  of  Hungering,  instruc¬ 
tive  and  productive  beyond  Academic  Curriculums  ;  which  ex¬ 
tends  over  some  seven  most  strenuous  years.  As  Jean  Paul 
says  of  his  own  Life,  u  to  a  great  height  shall  the  business  of 
Hungering  go.” 

Or  consider,  in  strange  contrast,  the  jubilee  Ceremonies  ; 
for,  in  general,  the  aspect  of  Paris  presents  these  two  fea¬ 
tures  :  jubilee  ceremonials  and  scarcity  of  victual.  Proces¬ 
sions  enough  walk  in  jubilee ;  of  Young  Women,  decked 
and  dizened,  their  ribbons  all  tricolor ;  moving  with  song  and 


225 


Chap.  IV.  IN  QUEUE. 

August. 

tabor,  to  the  shrine  of  Sainte  Genevieve,  to  thank  her  that 
the  Bastille  is  down.  The  Strong  Men  of  the  Market,  and  the 
Strong  Women,  fail  not  with  their  bouquets  and  speeches. 
Abbe  Fauchet,  famed  in  such  work  (for  Abbe  Lefevre  could 
<Vily  distribute  powder)  blesses  tricolor  cloth  for  the  National 
Guard ;  and  makes  it  a  National  Tricolor  Flag ;  victorious,  or 
to  be  victorious,  in  the  cause  of  civil  and  religious  liberty  all 
over  the  world.  Fauchet,  we  say,  is  the  man  for  Te  Demns, 
and  public  Consecrations  ;  —  to  which,  as  in  this  instance  of 
the  Flag,  our  National  Guard  will  “  reply  with  volleys  of  mus¬ 
ketry,”  Church  and  Cathedral  though  it  be ; 1  filling  Notre 
Dame  with  such  noisiest  fuliginous  Amen,  significant  of  sev¬ 
eral  things. 

On  the  whole,  we  will  say  our  new  Mayor  Bailly,  our  new 
Commander  Lafayette  named  also  “  Scipio-Americanus,”  have 
bought  their  preferment  dear.  Bailly  rides  in  gilt  state- 
coach,  with  beef-eaters  and  sumptuosity  ;  Camille  Desmoulins, 
and  others,  sniffing  at  him  for  it :  Scipio  bestrides  the  “  white 
charger,”  and  waves  with  civic  plumes  in  sight  of  all  France. 
Neither  of  them,  however,  does  it  for  nothing ;  but,  in  truth, 
at  an  exorbitant  rate.  At  this  rate,  namely  :  of  feeding  Paris, 
and  keeping  it  from  fighting.  Out  of  the  City-funds,  some 
seventeen  thousand  of  the  utterly  destitute  are  employed  dig¬ 
ging  on  Montmartre,  at  tenpence  a  day,  which  buys  them,  at 
market  price,  almost  two  pounds  of  bad  bread  :  —  they  look 
very  yellow,  when  Lafayette  goes  to  harangue  them.  The 
Town-hall  is  in  travail,  night  and  day;  it  must  bring  forth 
Bread,  a  Municipal  Constitution,  regulations  of  all  kinds, 
curbs  on  the  Sansculottic  Press  ;  above  all,  Bread,  Bread. 

Purveyors  prowl  the  country  far  and  wide,  with  the  appe¬ 
tite  of  lions ;  detect  hidden  grain,  purchase  open  grain ;  by 
gentle  means  or  forcible,  must  and  will  find  grain.  A  most 
thankless  task ;  and  so  difficult,  so  dangerous,  —  even  if  a  man 
did  gain  some  trifle  by  it !  On  the  19th  of  August,  there 
is  food  for  one  day.2  Complaints  there  are  that  the  food  is 
Spoiled,  and  produces  an  effect  on  the  intestines  :  not  corn  but 

1  See  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  20 ;  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  &c. 

2  See  Bailly,  M€moires,  ii.  137-409. 

VOL.  III.  15 


226  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1781). 

plaster-of-paris !  Which,  effect  on  the  intestines,  as  well  as 
that  “smarting  in  the  throat  and  palate/’  a  Town-hall  Procla¬ 
mation  warns  you  to  disregard,  or  even  to  consider  as  drastic- 
beneficial.  The  Mayor  of  Saint-Denis,  so  black  was  his  bread, 
has,  by  a  dyspeptic  populace,  been  hanged  on  the  Lanterne 
there.  National  Guards  protect  the  Paris  Corn-Market ;  first 
ten  suffice ;  then  six  hundred.1  Busy  are  ye,  Bailly,  Brissot 
de  Warville,  Condorcet,  and  ye  others ! 

Por,  as  just  hinted,  there  is  a  Municipal  Constitution  to 
be  made  too.  The  old  Bastille  Electors,  after  some  ten  days 
of  psalmodying  over  their  glorious  victory,  began  to  hear  it 
asked,  in  a  splenetic  tone,  Who  put  you  there  ?  They  accord¬ 
ingly  had  to  give  place,  not  without  moanings  and  audible 
growlings  on  both  sides,  to  a  new  larger  Body,  specially  elected 
for  that  post.  Which  new  Body,  augmented,  altered,  then 
fixed  finally  at  the  number  of  Three  Hundred,  with  the  title 
of  Town  Representatives  ( Representans  de  la  Commune ),  now 
sits  there  ;  rightly  portioned  into  Committees ;  assiduous  mak¬ 
ing  a  Constitution :  at  all  moments  when  not  seeking  flour. 

And  such  a  Constitution ;  little  short  of  miraculous :  one 
that  shall  “  consolidate  the  Revolution  ”  !  The  Revolution  is 
finished,  then  ?  Mayor  Bailly  and  all  respectable  friends  of 
Freedom  would  fain  think  so.  Your  Revolution,  like  jelly 
sufficiently  boiled ,  needs  only  to  be  poured  into  shapes ,  of  Con¬ 
stitution,  and  “  consolidated  ”  therein  ?  Could  it,  indeed,  con¬ 
trive  to  cool ;  which  last,  however,  is  precisely  the  doubtful 
thing,  or  even  the  not  doubtful ! 

Unhappy  Friends  of  Freedom ;  consolidating  a  Revolution ! 
They  must  sit  at  work  there,  their  pavilion  spread  on  very 
Chaos;  between  two  hostile  worlds,  the  Upper  Court-world,' 
the  nether  Sansculottic  one ;  and,  beaten  on  by  both,  toil 
painfully,  perilously,  —  doing,  in  sad  literal  earnest,  “the  im¬ 
possible.” 


1  Hist.  Pari.  ii.  421. 


Chap.  V. 
Aug.-Sept. 


THE  FOURTH  ESTATE. 


227 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  FOURTH  ESTATE.  . 

Pamphleteering  opens  its  abysmal  throat  wider  and  wider ; 
never  to  close  more.  Our  Philosophes,  indeed,  rather  withdraw ; 
after  the  manner  of  Marmontel,  “  retiring  in  disgust  the  first 
day.”  Abbe  Raynal,  grown  gray  and  quiet  in  his  Marseilles 
domicile,  is  little  content  with  this  work :  the  last  literary  act  of 
the  man  will  again  be  an  act  of  rebellion ;  an  indignant  Letter  to 
the  Constituent  Assembly ;  answered  by  “the  order  of  the  day.” 
Thus  also  Philosophe  Morellet  puckers  discontented  brows ; 
being  indeed  threatened  in  his  benefices  by  that  Fourth  of  Au¬ 
gust  :  it  is  clearly  going  too  far.  How  astonishing  that  those 
“haggard  figures  in  woollen  jupes”  would  not  rest  as  satisfied 
with  speculation,  and  victorious  Analysis,  as  we  ! 

Alas,  yes :  Speculation,  Philosophism,  once  the  ornament 
and  wealth  of  the  saloon,  will  now  coin  itself  into  mere  Prac¬ 
tical  Propositions,  and  circulate  on  street  and  highway,  uni¬ 
versally  ;  with  results !  A  Fourth  Estate,  of  Able  Editors, 
springs  up ;  increases  and  multiplies ;  irrepressible,  incalcu¬ 
lable.  New  Printers,  new  Journals,  and  ever  new  (so  prurient 
is  the  world),  let  our  Three  Hundred  curb  and  consolidate  as 
they  can!  Loustalot,  under  the  wing  of  Prudhomme  dull- 
blustering  Printer,  edits  weekly  his  Revolutions  de  Paris ;  in 
an  acrid,  emphatic  manner.  Acrid,  corrosive,  as  the  spirit  of 
sloes  and  copperas,  is  Marat,  Friend  of  the  People ;  struck 
already  with  the  fact  that  the  National  Assembly,  so  full  of 
Aristocrats,  “  can  do  nothing,”  except  dissolve  itself  and  make 
way  for  a  better ;  that  the  Town-hall  Representatives  are  little 
other  than  babblers  and  imbeciles,  if  not  even  knaves.  Poor 
is  this  man ;  squalid,  and  dwells  in  garrets ;  a  man  unlovely 
to  the  sense,  outward  and  inward;  a  man  forbid;  —  and  is 


228  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1789. 

becoming  fanatical,  possessed  with  fixed-idea.  Cruel  lusus  of 
Nature !  Did  Nature,  0  poor  Marat,  as  in  cruel  sport,  knead 
thee  out  of  her  leavings  and  miscellaneous  waste  clay;  and 
fling  thee  forth,  stepdame-like,  a  Distraction  into  this  dis¬ 
tracted  Eighteenth  Century  ?  Work  is  appointed  thee  there ; 
which  thou  shalt  do.  The  Three  Hundred  have  summoned 
and  will  again  summon  Marat :  but  always  he  croaks  forth 
answer  sufficient ;  always  he  will  defy  them,  or  elude  them ; 
and  endure  no  gag. 

Carra,  “  Ex-secretary  of  a  decapitated  Hospodar,”  and  then 
of  a  Necklace-Cardinal ;  likewise  Pamphleteer,  Adventurer  in 
many  scenes  and  lands,  —  draws  nigh  to  Mercier,  of  the  Ta¬ 
bleau  de  Paris  ;  and,  with  foam  on  his  lips,  proposes  an  Annales 
Patriotiques.  The  Moniteur  goes  its  prosperous  way ;  Barrere 
“  weeps,”  on  Paper  as  yet  loyal :  Bivarol,  Eoyou  are  not  idle. 
Deep  calls  to  deep :  your  Domine  Salvum  Fac  Pegem  shall 
awaken  Pange  Lingua ;  with  an  Amb-du-Pewple  there  is  a 
King’s-Eriend  Newspaper,  Ami-du-Poi.  Camille  Desmoulins 
has  appointed  himself  Procureur-General  de  la  Lanteme , 
Attorney-General  of  the  Lamp-iron ;  and  pleads,  not  with 
atrocity,  under  an  atrocious  title ;  editing  weekly  his  brilliant 
Revolutions  of  Paris  and  Brabant.  Brilliant,  we  say ;  for  if,  in 
that  thick  murk  of  Journalism,  with  its  dull  blustering,  with 
its  fixed  or  loose  fury,  any  ray  of  genius  greet  thee,  be  sure  it 
is  Camille’s.  The  thing  that  Camille  touches,  he  with  his 
light  finger  adorns  :  brightness  plays,  gentle,  unexpected,  amid 
horrible  confusions ;  often  is  the  word  of  Camille  worth  read¬ 
ing,  when  no  other’s  is.  Questionable  Camille,  how  thou  glit- 
terest  with  a  fallen,  rebellious,  yet  still  semi-celestial  light ; 
as  is  the  starlight  on  the  brow  of  Lucifer !  Son  of  the  Morn¬ 
ing,  into  what  times  and  what  lands  art  thou  fallen ! 

But  in  all  things  there  is  good ;  —  though  it  be  not  good 
for  “ consolidating  Devolutions.”  Thousand  wagon-loads  of 
this  Pamphleteering  and  Newspaper  matter  lie  rotting  slowly 
in  the  Public  Libraries  of  our  Europe.  Snatched  from  the 
great  gulf,  like  oysters  by  bibliomaniac  pearl-divers,  there 
must  they  first  rot ,  then  what  was  pearl,  in  Camille  or  others, 
may  be  seen  as  such,  and  continue  as  such. 


Chap.  V.  THE  FOURTH  ESTATE.  229 

Aug.-Sept. 

Nor  has  public  speaking  declined,  though  Lafayette  and 
his  Patrols  look  sour  on  it.  Loud  always  is  the  Palais  Royal, 
loudest  the  Cafe  de  Foy;  such  a  miscellany  of  Citizens  and 
Citizenesses  circulating  there.  “  Now  and  then,”  according 
to  Camille,  “  some  Citizens  employ  the  liberty  of  the  press  for 
a  private  purpose  ;  so  that  this  or  the  other  Patriot  finds 
himself  short  of  his  watch  or  pocket-handkerchief !  ”  But  for 
the  rest,  in  Camille’s  opinion,  nothing  can  be  a  livelier  image 
of  the  Roman  Forum.  “A  Patriot  proposes  his  motion;  if  it 
finds  any  supporters,  they  make  him  mount  on  a  chair,  and 
speak.  If  he  is  applauded,  he  prospers  and  redacts ;  if  he  is 
hissed,  he  goes  his  ways.”  Thus  they,  circulating  and  pero¬ 
rating.  Tall  shaggy  Marquis  Saint-Huruge,  a  man  that  has 
had  losses,  and  has  deserved  them,  is  seen  eminent,  and  also 
heard.  “Bellowing”  is  the  character  of  his  voice,  like  that 
of  a  Bull  of  Bashan;  voice  which  drowns  all  voices,  which 
causes  frequently  the  hearts  of  men  to  leap.  Cracked  or  half- 
cracked  is  this  tall  Marquis’s  head;  uncracked  are  his  lungs; 
the  cracked  and  the  uncracked  shall  alike  avail  him. 

Consider  farther  that  each  of  the  Forty-eight  Districts 
has  its  own  Committee ;  speaking  and  motioning  continually ; 
aiding  in  the  search  for  grain,  in  the  search  for  a  Constitu¬ 
tion  ;  checking  and  spurring  the  poor  Three  Hundred  of  the 
Town-hall.  That  Danton,  with  a  “voice  reverberating  from 
the  domes,”  is  President  of  the  Cordeliers  District;  which 
has  already  become  a  Goshen  of  Patriotism.  That  apart  from 
the  “  seventeen  thousand  utterly  necessitous,  digging  on  Mont¬ 
martre,”  most  of  whom,  indeed,  have  got  passes,  and  been 
dismissed  into  Space  “  with  four  shillings,”  —  there  is  a  strike , 
or  union,  of  Domestics  out  of  place ;  who  assemble  for  public 
speaking :  next,  a  strike  of  Tailors,  for  even  they  will  strike 
and  speak;  farther,  a  strike  of  Journeymen  Cordwainers ;  a 
strike  of  Apothecaries :  so  dear  is  bread.1  All  these,  having 
struck,  must  speak ;  generally  under  the  open  canopy ;  and 
pass  resolutions ;  —  Lafayette  and  his  Patrols  watching  them 
suspiciously  from  the  distance. 

Unhappy  mortals  :  such  tugging  and  lugging,  and  throttling 
1  Histoire  ParJementaire,  ii.  359,  417,  423. 


230  CONSOLIDATION.  Book  VI. 

1789. 

of  one  another,  to  divide,  in  some  not  intolerable  way,  the 
joint  Felicity  of  man  in  this  Earth  ;  when  the  whole  lot  to  be 
divided  is  such  a  “  feast  of  shells  !  ”  —  Diligent  are  the  Three 
Hundred ;  none  equals  Scipio-Americanus  in  dealing  with 
mobs.  But  surely  all  these  things  bode  ill  for  the  consolidat¬ 
ing  of  a  Revolution. 


BOOK  VII. 


THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

* 

- • - 

CHAPTER  I. 

PATROLLOTISM. 

No,  Friends,  this  Revolution  is  not  of  the  consolidating 
kind.  Do  not  fires,  fevers,  sown  seeds,  chemical  mixtures, 
men,  events,  —  all  embodiments  of  Force  that  work  in  this 
miraculous  Complex  of  Forces  named  Universe,  —  go  on  g voic¬ 
ing ,  through  their  natural  phases  and  developments,  each 
according  to  its  kind;  reach  their  height,  reach  their  visible 
decline ;  finally  sink  under,  vanishing,  and  what  we  call  die  ? 
They  all  grow ;  there  is  nothing  but  what  grows,  and  shoots 
forth  into  its  special  expansion,  —  once  give  it  leave  to  spring. 
Observe  too  that  each  grows  with  a  rapidity  porportioned,  in 
general,  to  the  madness  and  unhealthiness  there  is  in  it :  slow 
regular  growth,  though  this  also  ends  in  death,  is  what  we 
name  health  and  sanity.  • 

A  Sansculottism,  which  has  prostrated  Bastilles,  which  has 
got  pike  and  musket,  and  now  goes  burning  Chateaus,  passing 
resolutions  and  haranguing  under  roof  and  sky,  may  be  said 
to  have  sprung ;  and,  by  law  of  Nature,  must  grow.  To  judge 
by  the  madness  and  diseasedness  both  of  itself,  and  of  the 
soil  and  element  it  is  in,  one  might  expect  the  rapidity  and 
monstrosity  would  be  extreme. 

Many  things,  too,  especially  all  diseased  things,  grow  by 
shoots  and  fits.  The  first  grand  fit  and  shooting-forth  of 
Sansculottism  was  that  of  Paris  conquering  its  King ;  for 
Bailly’s  figure  of  rhetoric  was  all  too  sad  a  reality.  The 


232  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

King  is  conquered;  going  at  large  on  his  parole;  on  con¬ 
dition,  say,  of  absolutely  good  behavior,  —  which,  in  these 
circumstances,  will  unhappily  mean  no  behavior  whatever. 
A  quite  untenable  position,  that  of  Majesty  put  on  its  good 
behavior  !  Alas,  is  it  not  natural  that  whatever  lives  try 
to  keep  itself  living  ?  Whereupon  his  Majesty’s  behavior 
will  soon  become  exceptionable ;  and  so  the  Second  grand 
Fit  of  Sansculottism,  that  of  putting  him  in  durance,  cannot 
be  distant.  .  • 

Keeker,  in  the  National  Assembly,  is  making  moan,  as  usual, 
about  his  Deficit :  Barriers  and  Custom-houses  burnt ;  the  Tax- 
gatherer  hunted,  not  hunting ;  his  Majesty’s  Exchequer  all  but 
empty.  The  remedy  is  a  Loan  of  thirty  millions;  then,  on 
still  more  enticing  terms,  a  Loan  of  eighty  millions :  neither 
of  which  Loans,  unhappily,  will  the  Stockjobbers  venture  to 
lend.  The  Stockjobber  has  no  country,  except  his  own  black 
pool  of  Agio. 

And  yet,  in  those  days,  for  men  that  have  a  country,  what 
a  glow  of  patriotism  burns  in  many  a  heart ;  penetrating  in¬ 
wards  to  the  very  purse !  So  early  as  the  7 th  of  August,  a 
Don  Patriotique,  “  Patriotic  Gift  of  jewels  to  a  considerable 
extent,”  has  been  solemnly  made  by  certain  Parisian  women ; 
and  solemnly  accepted  with  honorable  mention.  Whom  forth¬ 
with  all  the  world  takes  to  imitating  and  emulating.  Patriotic 
Gifts,  always  with  some  heroic  eloquence,  which  the  President 
must  answer  and*  the  Assembly  listen  to,  flow  in  from  far  and 
near :  in  such  number  that  the  honorable  mention  can  only  be 
performed  in  “  lists  published  at  stated  epochs.”  Each  gives 
what  he  can :  the  very  cordwainers  have  behaved  munificently ; 
one  landed  proprietor  gives  a  forest ;  fashionable  society  gives 
its  shoe-buckles,  takes  cheerfully  to  shoeties.  Unfortunate 
females  give  what  they  “  have  amassed  in  loving.” 1  The 
smell  of  all  cash,  as  Vespasian  thought,  is  good. 

Beautiful,  and  yet  inadequate  !  The  Clergy  must  be  “  in¬ 
vited  ”  to  melt  their  superfluous  Church-plate,  —  in  the  R/Oyal 
Mint.  Nay  finally,  a  Patriotic  Contribution,  of  the  forcible 

1  Ilistoire  Parle mentaire,  ii.  427. 


233 


Chap.  I.  PATROLLOTISM. 

Aug.-Sept. 

sort,  lias  to  be  determined  on,  though  unwillingly  :  let  the 
fourth  part  of  your  declared  yearly  revenue,  for  this  once 
only,  be  paid  down ;  so  shall  a  National  Assembly  make  the 
Constitution,  undistracted  at  least  by  insolvency.  Their  own 
wages,  as  settled  on  the  17th  of  August,  are  but  Eighteen 
Francs  a  day,  each  man ;  but  the  Public  Service  must  have 
sinews,  must  have  money.  To  appease  the  Deficit ;  not  to 
“  combler,  or  choke,  the  Deficit,”  if  you  or  mortal  could !  For 
withal,  as  Mirabeau  was  heard  saying,  “  it  is  the  Deficit  that 
saves  us.” 

Towards  the  end  of  August,  our  National  Assembly  in  its 
constitutional  labors  has  got  so  far  as  the  question  of  Veto  : 
shall  Majesty  have  a  Veto  on  the  National  Enactments  ;  or 
not  have  a  Veto  ?  What  speeches  were  spoken,  within  doors 
and  without ;  clear,  and  also  passionate  logic  ;  imprecations, 
comminations  ;  gone  happily,  for  most  part,  to  Limbo  ! 
Through  the  cracked  brain  and  uncracked  lungs  of  Saint- 
Huruge,  the  Palais  Koyal  rebellows  with  Veto.  Journalism 
is  busy,  France  rings  with  Veto.  “  I  never  shall  forget,”  says 
Dumont,  “  my  going  to  Paris,  one  of  those  days,  with  Mira¬ 
beau  ;  and  the  crowd  of  people  we  found  waiting  for  his 
carriage  about  Le  Jay  the  Bookseller’s  shop.  They  flung 
themselves  before  him  ;  conjuring  him,  with  tears  in  their 
eyes,  not  to  suffer  the  Veto  Absolu.  They  were  in  a  frenzy  : 
1  Monsieur  le  Comte,  you  are  the  People’s  father,  you  must 
save  us  ;  you  must  defend  us  against  those  villains  who  are 
bringing  back  Despotism.  If  the  King  get  this  Veto,  what 
is  the  use  of  National  Assembly  ?  We  are  slaves  ;  all  is 
done.’  ”  1  Friends,  if  the  sky  fall,  there  will  be  catching  of 
larks  !  Mirabeau,  adds  Dumont,  was  eminent  on  such  occa¬ 
sions  :  he  answered  vaguely,  with  a  Patrician  imperturbability, 
and  bound  himself  to  nothing. 

Deputations  go  to  the  Hotel-de-Ville ;  anonymous  Letters 
to  Aristocrats  in  the  National  Assembly,  threatening  that 
fifteen  thousand,  or  sometimes  that  sixty  thousand  “  will 
march  to  illuminate  you.”  The  Paris  Districts  are  astir ; 

1  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  156. 


234  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

Petitions  signing :  Saint-Huruge  sets  forth  from  the  Palais 
Royal  with  an  escort  of  fifteen  hundred  individuals,  to  peti¬ 
tion  in  person.  Resolute,  or  seemingly  so,  is  the  tall  shaggy 
Marquis,  is  the  Cafe  de  Foy :  but  resolute  also  is  Commandant- 
General  Lafayette.  The  streets  are  all  beset  by  Patrols : 
Saint-Huruge  is  stopped  at  the  Barriere  des  Bons  Homines ; 
he  may  bellow  like  the  bulls  of  Bashan,  but  absolutely  must 
return.  The  brethren  of  the  Palais  Royal  u  circulate  all 
night,”  and  make  motions,  under  the  open  canopy  ;  all  Coffee¬ 
houses  being  shut.  Nevertheless  Lafayette  and  the  Town- 
hall  do  prevail  ;  Saint-Huruge  is  thrown  into  prison ;  Veto 
Absolu  adjusts  itself  into  Suspensive  Veto,  prohibition  not  for¬ 
ever,  but  for  a  term  of  time ;  and  this  doom’s-clamor  will  grow 
silent,  as  the  others  have  done. 

So  far  has  Consolidation  prospered,  though  with  difficulty  ; 
repressing  the  Nether  Sansculottic  world;  and  the  Consti¬ 
tution  shall  be  made.  With  difficulty :  amid  jubilee  and 
scarcity;  Patriotic  Gifts,  Bakers’-queues ;  Abbe-Fauchet  Ha¬ 
rangues,  with  their  Amen  of  platoon-musketry  !  Scipio-Amer- 
icanus  has  deserved  thanks  from  the  National  Assembly  and 
France.  They  offer  him  stipends  and  emoluments  to  a  hand¬ 
some  extent ;  all  which  stipends  and  emoluments  he,  covetous 
of  far  other  blessedness  than  mere  money,  does,  in  his  chival¬ 
rous  way,  without  scruple,  refuse. 

To  the  Parisian  common  man,  meanwhile,  one  thing  re¬ 
mains  inconceivable  :  that  now  when  the  Bastille  is  down,  and 
French  Liberty  restored,  grain  should  continue  so  dear.  Our 
Rights  of  Man  are  voted,  Feudalism  and  all  Tyranny  abol¬ 
ished  ;  yet  behold  we  stand  in  queue !  Is  it  Aristocrat  fore¬ 
stalled  ;  a  Court  still  bent  on  intrigues  ?  Something  is  rotten 
somewhere. 

And  yet,  alas,  what  to  do  ?  Lafayette,  with  his  Patrols, 
prohibits  everything,  even  complaint.  Saint-Huruge  and  other 
heroes  of  the  Veto  lie  in  durance.  People’s-Friend  Marat  was 
seized ;  Printers  of  Patriotic  Journals  are  fettered  and  for¬ 
bidden  ;  the  very  Hawkers  cannot  cry,  till  they  get  license 
and  leaden  badges.  Blue  National  Guards  ruthlessly  dissi- 


Chap.  II.  0  RICHARD,  0  MY  KING !  235 

October  1. 

pate  all  groups;  scour,  with  levelled  bayonets,  the  Palais 
Royal  itself.  Pass,  on  your  affairs,  along  the  Rue  Taranne, 
the  Patrol,  presenting  his  bayonet,  cries,  To  the  left !  Turn 
into  the  Rue  Saint-Benoit,  he  cries,  To  the  right !  A  judicious 
Patriot  (like  Camille  Desmoulins,  in  this  instance)  is  driven, 
for  quietness’  sake,  to  take  the  gutter. 

0  much-suffering  People,  our  glorious  Revolution  is  evapo¬ 
rating  in  tricolor  ceremonies  and  complimentary  harangues  ! 
Of  which  latter,  as  Loustalot  acridly  calculates,  u  upwards  of 
two  thousand  have  been  delivered  within  the  last  month  at 
the  Town-hall  alone.”  1  And  our  mouths,  unfilled  with  bread, 
are  to  be  shut,  under  penalties  ?  The  Caricaturist  promul¬ 
gates  his  emblematic  Tablature :  Le  Patrouillotisme  chassant 
le  Patriotisme,  Patriotism  driven  out  by  Patrollotism.  Ruth¬ 
less  Patrols  ;  long  superfine  harangues  ;  and  scanty  ill-baked 
loaves,  more  like  baked  Bath  bricks,  —  which  produce  an  effect 
on  the  intestines  ?  Where  will  this  end  ?  In  consolidation  ? 


CHAPTER  II. 

O  RICHARD,  O  MY  KING  ! 

Eor,  alas,  neither  is  the  Town-hall  itself  without  misgivings. 
The  Nether  Sansculottic  world  has  been  suppressed  hitherto  :* 
but  then  the  Upper  Court-world !  Symptoms  there  are  that 
the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  is  rallying. 

More  than  once  in  the  Town-hall  Sanhedrim,  .often  enough 
from  those  outspoken  Bakers’-queues,  has  the  wish  uttered 
itself :  Oh  that  our  Restorer  of  French  Liberty  were  here ;  that 
he  could  see  with  his  own  eyes,  not  with  the  false  eyes  of 
Queens  and  Cabals,  and  his  really  good  heart  be  enlightened  I 
For  falsehood  still  environs  him;  intriguing  Dukes  de  Guiche, 
with  Body-guards ;  scouts  of  BouilU ;  a  new  flight  of  intriguers, 
now  that  the  old  is  flown.  What  else  means  this  advent  of 

1  Revolutions  de  Paris  Newspaper  (cited  in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  357). 


236  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  vii. 

1789. 

the  Regiment  de  Flandre  ;  entering  Versailles,  as  we  hear,  on  the 
23d  of  September,  with  two  pieces  of  cannon  ?  Did  not  the 
Versailles  National  Guard  do  duty  at  the  Chateau  ?  Had 
they  not  Swiss;  Hundred  Swiss;  Gardes-du- Corps,  Body-guards 
so  called?  Nay,  it  would  seem,  the  number  of  Body-guards 
on  duty  has,  by  a  manoeuvre,  been  doubled :  the  new  relieving 
Battalion  of  them  arrived  at  its  time ;  but  the  old  relieved  one 
does  not  depart ! 

Actually,  there  runs  a  whisper  through  the  best-informed 
Upper  Circles,  or  a  nod  still  more  portentous  than  whispering, 
of  his  Majesty’s  flying  to  Metz;  of  a  Bond  (to  stand  by  him 
therein),  which  has  been  signed  by  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  to 
the  incredible  amount  of  thirty,  or  even  of  sixty  thousand. 
Lafayette  coldly  whispers  it,  and  coldly  asseverates  it,  to 
Count  d’Estaing  at  the  Dinner-table ;  and  D’Estaing,  one  of 
the  bravest  men,  quakes  to  the  core  lest  some  lackey  overhear 
it ;  and  tumbles  thoughtful,  without  sleep,  all  night.1  Regi¬ 
ment  de  Elandre,  as  we  said,  is  clearly  arrived.  His  Majesty, 
they  say,  hesitates  about  sanctioning  the  Fourth  of  August ; 
makes  observations,  of  chilling  tenor,  on  the  very  Rights  of 
Man  !  Likewise,  may  not  all  persons,  the  Bakers’-queues 
themselves  discern,  on  the  streets  of  Paris,  the  most  astonish¬ 
ing  number  of  Officers  on  furlough,  Crosses  of  St.  Louis,  and 
such  like  ?  Some  reckon  “  from  a  thousand  to  twelve  hun¬ 
dred.”  Officers  of  all  uniforms  :  nay  one  uniform  never 
before  seen  by  eye  :  green  faced  with  red  !  The  tricolor 
’cockade  is  not  always  visible  :  but  what,  in  the  name  of 
Heaven,  may  these  black  cockades,  which  some  wear,  fore¬ 
shadow  ? 

Hunger  whets  everything,  especially  Suspicion  and  Indig¬ 
nation.  Realities  themselves,  in  this  Paris,  have  grown  un¬ 
real,  preternatural.  Phantasms  once  more  stalk  through  the 
brain  of  hungry  France.  0  ye  laggards  and  dastards,  cry 
shrill  voices  from  the  Queues,  if  ye  had  the  hearts  of  men, 
ye  would  take  your  pikes  and  second-hand  firelocks,  and  look 
into  it  ;  not  leave  your  wives  and  daughters  to  be  starved, 

1  Brouillon  de  Lettre  de  M.  d’Estaing  a  la  Reine  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire, 
iii.  24). 


Chap.  ii.  0  RICHARD,  0  MY  KING !  237 

October  1. 

murdered  and  worse  !  —  Peace,  women  !  The  heart  of  man 
is  bitter  and  heavy ;  Patriotism,  driven  out  by  Patrollotism, 
knows  not  what  to  resolve  on. 

The  truth  is,  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  has  rallied  ;  to  a  certain 
unknown  extent.  A  changed  (Eil-de-Boeuf  ;  with  Versailles 
National  Guards,  in  their  tricolor  cockades,  doing  duty  there  ; 
a  Court  all  flaring  with  tricolor  !  Yet  even  to  a  tricolor  Court 
men  will  rally.  Ye  loyal  hearts,  burnt-out  Seigneurs,  rally 
round  your  Queen  !  With  wishes  ;  which  will  produce  hopes  ; 
which  will  produce  attempts  ! 

Eor  indeed  self-preservation  being  such  a  law  of  Nature, 
what  can  a  rallied  Court  do,  but  attempt  and  endeavor,  or  call 
it  plot,  —  with  such  wisdom  and  unwisdom  as  it  has  ?  They 
will  fly,  escorted,  to  Metz,  where  brave  Bouille  commands  ; 
they  will  raise  the  Royal  Standard :  the  Bond-signatures  shall 
become  armed  men.  Were  not  the  King  so  languid  !  Their 
Bond,  if  at  all  signed,  must  be  signed  without  his  privity.  — 
Unhappy  King,  he  has  but  one  resolution :  not  to  have  a  civil 
war.  For  the  rest,  he  still  hunts,  having  ceased  lock-making ; 
he  still  dozes,  and  digests  ;  is  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter. 
Ill  will  it  fare  with  him,  in  a  world  where  all  is  helping  itself ; 
where,  as  has  been  written,  u  whosoever  is  not  hammer  must 
be  stithy j  ”  and  “  the  very  hyssop  on  the  wall  grows  there,  in 
that  chink,  because  the  whole  Universe  could  not  prevent  its 
growing  !” 

But  as  for  the  coming-up  of  this  Regiment  de  Flandre,  may 
it  not  be  urged  that  there  were  Saint-Huruge  Petitions,  and 
continual  meal-mobs  ?  Undebauched  Soldiers,  be  there  plot, 
or  only  dim  elements  of  a  plot,  are  always  good.  Did  not  the 
Versailles  Municipality  (an  old  Monarchic  one,  not  yet  re¬ 
founded  into  a  Democratic)  instantly  second  the  proposal  ? 
Nay  the  very  Versailles  National  Guard,  wearied  with  con¬ 
tinual  duty  at  the  Chateau,  did  not  object  ;  only  Draper 
Lecointre,  who  is  now  Major  Lecointre,  shook  his  head.  — 
Yes,  Friends,  surely  it  was  natural  this  Regiment  de  Flandre 
should  be  sent  for,  since  it  could  be  got.  It  was  natural  that, 
at  sight  of  military  bandoleers,  the  heart  of  the  rallied  (Eil-de- 


238  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

Boeuf  should  revive ;  and  Maids  of  Honor,  and  gentlemen  of 
honor,  speak  comfortable  words  to  epauletted  defenders  and  to 
one  another.  Natural  also,  and  mere  common  civility,  that 
the  Body-guards,  a  Regiment  of  Gentlemen,  should  invite  their 
Flandre  brethren  to  a  Dinner  of  welcome  !  —  Such  invitation, 
in  the  last  days  of  September,  is  given  and  accepted. 

Dinners  are  defined  as  “  the  ultimate  act  of  communion ;  ” 
men  that  can  have  communion  in  nothing  else,  can  sympatheti¬ 
cally  eat  together,  can  still  rise  into  some  glow  of  brotherhood 
over  food  and  wine.  The  Dinner  is  fixed  on,  for  Thursday  the 
First  of  October  5  and  ought  to  have  a  fine  effect.  Further,  as 
such  Dinner  may  be  rather  extensive,  and  even  the  Noncom¬ 
missioned  and  the  Common  man  be  introduced,  to  see  and  to 
hear,  could  not  his  Majesty’s  Opera  Apartment,  which  has  lain 
quite  silent  ever  since  Kaiser  Joseph  was  here,  be  obtained  for 
the  purpose  ?  —  The  Hall  of  the  Opera  is  granted ;  the  Salon 
d’Hercule  shall  be  drawing-room.  Not  only  the  Officers  of 
Flandre,  but  of  the  Swiss,  of  the  Hundred  Swiss  ;  nay  of  the 
Versailles  National  Guard,  such  of  them  as  have  any  loyalty, 
shall  feast :  it  will  be  a  Repast  like  few. 

And  now  suppose  this  Repast,  the  solid  part  of  it,  trans¬ 
acted  ;  and  the  first  bottle  over.  Suppose  the  customary  loyal 
toasts  drunk ;  the  King’s  health,  the  Queen’s  with  deafening 
vivats  ;  —  that  of  the  Nation  “omitted,”  or  even  “rejected.” 
Suppose  champagne  flowing;  with  pot-valorous  speech,  with 
instrumental  music  ;  empty  featherheads  growing  ever  the 
noisier,  in  their  own  emptiness,  in  each  other’s  noise.  Her 
Majesty,  who  looks  unusually  sad  to-night  (his  Majesty  sitting 
dulled  with  the  day’s  hunting),  is  told  that  the  sight  of  it 
would  cheer  her.  Behold  !  She  enters  there,  issuing  from 
her  State-rooms,  like  the  Moon  from  clouds,  this  fairest  un¬ 
happy  Queen  of  Hearts  ;  royal  Husband  by  her  side,  young 
Dauphin  in  her  arms !  She  descends  from  the  Boxes,  amid 
splendor  and  acclaim ;  walks  queenlike  round  the  Tables ;  grace¬ 
fully  escorted,  gracefully  nodding  ;  her  looks  full  of  sorrow, 
yet  of  gratitude  and  daring,  with  the  hope  of  France  on  her 
mother-bosom  !  And  now,  the  band  striking  up,  0  Richard , 
0  mon  Roi ,  Vunivers  tfabandonne  (0  Richard,  0  my  King,  the 


239 


Chap.  II.  0  RICHARD,  0  MY  KING  ! 

October  1. 

world  is  all  forsaking  thee),  could  man  do  other  than  rise  to 
height  of  pity,  of  loyal  valor  ?  Could  featherheaded  young 
ensigns  do  other  than,  by  white  Bourbon  Cockades,  handed 
them  from  fair  fingers ;  by  waving  of  swords,  drawn  to  pledge 
the  Queen’s  health ;  by  trampling  of  National  Cockades ;  by 
scaling  the  Boxes,  whence  intrusive  murmurs  may  come ;  by 
vociferation,  tripudiation,  sound,  fury  and  distraction,  within 
doors  and  without,  —  testify  what  tempest-tost  state  of  vacuity 
they  are  in  ?  Till  champagne  and  tripudiation  do  their  work ; 
and  all  lie  silent,  horizontal ;  passively  slumbering  with  meed- 
of-battle  dreams  !  — 

A  natural  Repast ;  in  ordinary  times,  a  harmless  one :  now 
fatal,  as  that  of  Thyestes  ;  as  that  of  Job’s  Sons,  when  a 
strong  wind  smote  the  four  corners  of  their  banquet-house  ! 
Poor  ill-advised  Marie-Antoinette ;  with  a  woman’s  vehemence, 
not  with  a  sovereign’s  foresight !  It  was  so  natural,  yet  so 
unwise.  Next  day,  in  public  speech  of  ceremony,  her  Majesty 
declares  herself  “  delighted  with  the  Thursday.” 

The  heart  of  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  glows  into  hope ;  into  daring, 
which  is  premature.  Rallied  Maids  of  Honor,  waited  on  by 
Abbes,  sew  “  white  cockades ;  ”  distribute  them,  with  words, 
with  glances,  to  epauletted  youths ;  who,  in  return,  may  kiss, 
not  without  fervor,  the  fair  sewing  fingers.  Captains  of  horse 
and  foot  go  swashing  with  “  enormous  white  cockades ;  ”  nay 
one  Versailles  National  Captain  has  mounted  the  like,  so  witch¬ 
ing  were  the  words  and  glances,  and  laid  aside  his  tricolor ! 
Well  may  Major  Lecointre  shake  his  head  with  a  look  of  sever¬ 
ity  ;  and  speak  audible  resentful  words.  But  now  a  swash¬ 
buckler,  with  enormous  white  cockade,  overhearing  the  Major, 
invites  him  insolently,  once  and  then  again  elsewhere,  to  re¬ 
cant  ;  and  failing  that,  to  duel.  Which  latter  feat  Major 
Lecointre  declares  that  he  will  not  perform,  not  at  least  by 
any  known  laws  of  fence ;  that  he  nevertheless  will,  according 
to  mere  law  of  Nature,  by  dirk  and  blade,  “  exterminate  ”  any 
“  vile  gladiator  ”  who  may  insult  him  or  the  Nation ;  — where¬ 
upon  (for  the  Major  is  actually  drawing  his  implement)  “they 
are  parted,”  and  no  weasands  slit.1 

1  Moniteur  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  iii.  59);  Deux  Amis,  iii.  128-141 ;  Cam- 
pan,  ii.  70-85 ;  &c.  &c. 


240 


THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 


Book  VII. 
1789. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BLACK  COCKADES. 

But  fancy  wliat  effect  this  Thyestes  Repast,  and  trampling 
on  the  National  Cockade,  must  have  had  in  the  Salle-des- 
Menus  ;  in  the  famishing  Bakers’-queues  at  Paris  !  Nay  such 
Thyestes  Repasts,  it  would  seem,  continue.  Elandre  has  given 
its  Counter-Dinner  to  the  Swiss  and  Hundred  Swiss ;  then  on 
Saturday  there  has  been  another. 

Yes,  here  with  us  is  famine ;  but  yonder  at  Versailles  is 
food,  enough  and  to  spare !  Patriotism  stands  in  queue,  shiv¬ 
ering  hunger-struck,  insulted  by  Patrollotism ;  while  bloody- 
minded  Aristocrats,  heated  with  excess  of  high  living,  trample 
on  the  National  Cockade.  Can  the  atrocity  be  true  ?  Nay 
look :  green  uniforms  faced  with  red ;  black  Cockades,  — -  the 
color  of  Night !  Are  we  to  have  military  on-fall;  and  death 
also  by  starvation  ?  For,  behold,  the  Corbeil  Corn-boat,  which 
used  to  come  twice  a  day,  with  its  plaster-of-paris  meal,  now 
comes  only  once.  And  the  Town-hall  is  deaf ;  and  the  men 
are  laggard  and  dastard  !  —  At  the  Cafe  de  Foy,  this  Saturday 
evening,  a  new  thing  is  seen,  not  the  last  of  its  kind :  a  woman 
engaged  in  public  speaking.  Her  poor  man,  she  says,  was  put 
to  silence  by  his  District ;  their  Presidents  and  Officials  would 
not  let  him  speak.  Wherefore  she  here,  with  her  shrill  tongue, 
will  speak ;  denouncing,  while  her  breath  endures,  the  Corbeil 
Boat,  the  plaster-of-paris  bread,  sacrilegious  Opera-dinners, 
green  uniforms,  Pirate  Aristocrats,  and  those  black  cockades 
of  theirs  !  — 

Truly,  it  is  time  for  the  black  cockades  at  least  to  vanish. 
Them  Patrollotism  itself  will  not  protect.  Nay  sharp-tempered 
(i  M.  Tassin,”  at  the  Tuileries  parade  on  Sunday  morning,  for¬ 
gets  all  National  military  rule ;  starts  from  the  ranks,  wrenches 
down  one  black  cockade  which  is  swashing  ominous  there,  and 


Chap.  III.  BLACK  COCKADES.  241 

October  4. 

tramples  it  fiercely  into  the  soil  of  France.  Patrollotism  itself 
is  not  without  suppressed  fury.  Also  the  Districts  begin  to 
stir :  the  voice  of  President  Danton  reverberates  in  the  Cor¬ 
deliers  :  People VFriend  Marat  has  flown  to  Versailles  and 
back  again;  —  swart  bird,  not  of  the  halcyon  kind.1 

And  so  Patriot  meets  promenading  Patriot,  this  Sunday  ; 
and  sees  his  own  grim  care  reflected  on  the  face  of  another. 
Groups,  in  spite  of  Patrollotism,  which  is  not  so  alert  as  usual, 
fluctuate  deliberative  ;  groups  on  the  Bridges,  on  the  Quais, 
at  the  patriotic  Cafes.  And  ever  as  any  black  cockade  may 
emerge,  rises  the  many-voiced  growl  and  bark :  A  has,  Down  ! 
All  black  cockades  are  ruthlessly  plucked  off :  one  individual 
picks  his  up  again;  kisses  it,  attempts  to  refix  it;  but  a  “ hun¬ 
dred  canes  start  into  the  air,”  and  he  desists.  Still  worse  went 
it  with  another  individual ;  doomed,  by  extempore  Plebiscitum , 
to  the  Lanterne ;  saved,  with  difficulty,  by  some  active  Corps- 
de- Garde.  —  Lafayette  sees  signs  of  an  effervescence;  which 
he  doubles  his  Patrols,  doubles  his  diligence,  to  prevent.  So 
passes  Sunday  the  4th  of  October,  1789. 

Sullen  is  the  male  heart,  repressed  by  Patrollotism ;  vehe¬ 
ment  is  the  female,  irrepressible.  The  public-speaking  woman 
at  the  Palais  Boyal  was  not  the  only  speaking  one :  —  Men 
know  not  what  the  pantry  is,  when  it  grows  empty ;  only 
house-mothers  know.  0  women,  wives  of  men  that  will  only 
calculate  and  not  act !  Patrollotism  is  strong ;  but  Death,  by 
starvation  and  military  on-fall,  is  stronger.  Patrollotism  re¬ 
presses  male  Patriotism :  but  female  Patriotism  ?  Will  Guards 
named  National  thrust  their  bayonets  into  the  bosoms  of  wo¬ 
men  ?  Such  thought,  or  rather  such  dim  unshaped  raw  ma¬ 
terial  of  a  thought,  ferments  universally  under  the  female 
nightcap ;  and,  by  earliest  daybreak,  on  slight  hint,  will  ex¬ 
plode. 

!  1  Camille’s  Newspaper,  Revolutions  de  Paris  et  de  Brabant  (in  Histoire  Par • 

lementaire,  iii.  108). 


VOL.  III. 


la 


242 


THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  YII. 

*  1789. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  MENADS. 

If  Voltaire  once,  in  splenetic  humor,  asked  his  countrymen: 
“  But  you,  Gualches ,  what  have  you  invented  ?  ”  they  can  now 
answer :  The  Art  of  Insurrection.  It  was  an  art  needed  in 
these  last  singular  times :  an  art  for  which  the  French  nature, 
so  full  of  vehemence,  so  free  from  depth,  was  perhaps  of  all 
others  the  fittest. 

Accordingly,  to  what  a  height,  one  may  well  say  of  perfec¬ 
tion,  has  this  branch  of  human  industry  been  carried  by  France, 
within  the  last  half-century  !  Insurrection,  which  Lafayette 
thought  might  be  “the  most  sacred  of  duties,”  ranks  now,  for 
the  French  people,  among  the  duties  which  they  can  perform. 
Other  mobs  are  dull  masses  ;  which  roll  onwards  with  a  dull 
fierce  tenacity,  a  dull  fierce  heat,  but  emit  no  light-flashes  of 
genius  as  they  go.  The  French  mob,  again,  is  among  the  live¬ 
liest  phenomena  of  our  world.  So  rapid,  audacious ;  so  clear¬ 
sighted,  inventive,  prompt  to  seize  the  moment  j  instinct  with 
life  to  its  finger-ends  !  That  talent,  were  there  no  other,  of 
spontaneously  standing  in  queue,  distinguishes,  as  we  said,  the 
French  People  from  all  Peoples,  ancient  and  modern. 

Let  the  Reader  confess  too  that,  taking  one  thing  with 
another,  perhaps  few  terrestrial  Appearances  are  better  worth 
considering  than  mobs.  Your  mob  is  a  genuine  outburst  of 
Nature  ;  issuing  from,  or  communicating  with,  the  deepest  deep 
of  Nature.  When  so  much  goes  grinning  and  grimacing  as  a 
lifeless  Formality,  and  under  the  stiff  buckram  no  heart  can 
be  felt  beating,  here  once  more,  if  nowhere  else,  is  a  Sincerity 
and  Reality.  Shudder  at  it ;  or  even  shriek  over  it,  if  thou 
must ;  nevertheless  consider  it.  Such  a  Complex  of  human 
Forces  and  Individualities  hurled  forth,  in  their  transcendental 
mood,  to  act  and  react,  on  circumstances  and  on  one  another ; 


Chap.  IV.  THE  MENADS.  243 

October  5. 

to  work  out  what  it  is  in  them  to  work.  The  thing  they  will 
do  is  known  to  no  man  ;  least  of  all  to  themselves.  It  is  the 
inflammablest  immeasurable  Eire-work,  generating,  consuming 
itself.  With  what  phases,  to  what  extent,  with  what  results  it 
will  burn  off,  Philosophy  and  Perspicacity  conjecture  in  vain. 

“Man,”  as  has  been  written,  “is  forever  interesting  to  man; 
nay  properly  there  is  nothing  else  interesting.”  In  which  light 
also  may  we  not  discern  why  most  Battles  have  become  so 
wearisome  ?  Battles,  in  these  ages,  are  transacted  by  mech¬ 
anism  ;  with  the  slightest  possible  development  of  human 
individuality  or  spontaneity :  men  now  even  die,  and  kill  one 
another,  in  an  artificial  manner.  Battles  ever  since  Homer’s 
time,  when  they  were  Eighting  Mobs,  have  mostly  ceased  to 
be  worth  looking  at,  worth  reading  of  or  remembering.  How 
many  wearisome  bloody  Battles  does  History  strive  to  repre¬ 
sent  ;  or  even,  in  a  husky  way,  to  sing  :  —  and  she  would  omit 
or  carelessly  slur  over  this  one  Insurrection  of  Women  ? 

A  thought,  or  dim  raw-material  of  a  thought,  was  fermenting 
all  night,  universally  in  the  female  head,  and  might  explode. 
In  squalid  garret,'  on  Monday  morning  Maternity  awakes,  to 
hear  children  weeping  for  bread.  Maternity  must  forth  to  the 
streets,  to  the  herb-markets  and  Bakers^queues  ;  meets  there 
with  hunger-stricken  Maternity,  sympathetic,  exasperative. 
0  we  unhappy  women !  But,  instead  of  Bakers’-queues,  why 
not  to  Aristocrats’  palaces,  the  root  of  the  matter  ?  Allons  ! 
Let  us  assemble.  To  the  H6tel-de-Ville  ;  to  Versailles;  to  the 
Lanterne  ! 

In  one  of  the  Guard-houses  of  the  Quartier  Saint-Eustache, 
“a  young  woman”  seizes  a  drum,  —  for  how  shall  National 
Guards  give  fire  on  women,  on  a  young  woman  ?  The  young 
woman  seizes  the  drum ;  sets  forth,  beating  it,  “  uttering  cries 
relative  to  the  dearth  of  grains.”  Descend,  0  mothers  ;  de¬ 
scend,  ye  Judiths,  to  food  and  revenge! — All  women  gather 
and  go  ;  crowds  storm  all  stairs,  force  out  all  women :  the 
female  Insurrectionary  Eorce,  according  to  Camille,  resembles 
the  English  Naval  one  ;  there  is  a  universal  “  Press  of  women.” 
Robust  Dames  of  the  Halle,  slim  Mantua-makers,  assiduous, 


244  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

risen  with  the  dawn  ;  ancient  Virginity  tripping  to  matins ; 
the  Housemaid,  with  early  broom;  all  must  go.  Rouse  ye , 
0  women ;  the  laggard  men  will  not  act ;  they  say,  we  our¬ 
selves  may  act ! 

And  so,  like  snowbreak  from  the  mountains,  for  every  stair¬ 
case  is  a  melted  brook,  it  storms  ;  tumultuous,  wild  shrilling, 
towards  the  Hotel-de-Ville.  Tumultuous ;  with  or  without 
drum-music  :  for  the  Faubourg  Saint- Antoine  also  has  tucked 
up  its  gown ;  and  with  besom-staves,  fire-irons,  and  even  rusty 
pistols  (void  of  ammunition),  is  flowing  on.  Sound  of  it  flies, 
with  a  velocity  of  sound,  to  the  utmost  Barriers.  By  seven 
o’clock,  on  this  raw  October  morning,  fifth  of  the  month,  the 
Town-hall  will  see  wonders.  Nay,  as  chance  would  have  it,  a 
male  party  are  already  there  ;  clustering  tumultuously  round 
some  National  Patrol,  and  a  Baker  who  has  been  seized  with 
short  weights.  They  are  there;  and  have  even  lowered  the 
rope  of  the  Lanterne.  So  that  the  official  persons  have  to 
smuggle  forth  the  short-weighing  Baker  by  back-doors,  and 
even  send  u  to  all  the  Districts  ”  for  more  force. 

Grand  it  was,  says  Camille,  to  see  so  many  Judiths,  from 
eight  to  ten  thousand  of  them  in  all,  rushing  out  to  search  into 
the  root  of  the  matter !  Not  unfrightful  it  must  have  been ; 
ludicro-terrific,  and  most  unmanageable.  At  such  hour  the 
overwatched  Three  Hundred  are  not  yet  stirring:  none  but 
some  Clerks,  a  company  of  National  Guards ;  and  M.  de  Gou- 
vion,  the  Major-general.  Gouvion  has  fought  in  America  for 
the  cause  of  civil  Liberty ;  a  man  of  no  inconsiderable  heart,  but 
deficient  in  head.  He  is,  for  the  moment,  in  his  back  apart¬ 
ment  ;  assuaging  Usher  Maillard,  the  Bastille-sergeant,  who  has 
come,  as  too  many  do,  with  “  representations.”  The  assuage¬ 
ment  is  still  incomplete  when  our  Judiths  arrive. 

The  National  Guards  form  on  the  outer  stairs,  with  levelled 
bayonets  ;  the  ten  thousand  Judiths  press  up,  resistless  ;  with 
obtestations,  with  outspread  hands, — merely  to  speak  to  the 
Mayor.  The  rear  forces  them ;  nay  from  male  hands  in  the 
rear,  stones  already  fly  :  the  National  Guard  must  do  one  of 
two  things ;  sweep  the  Place  de  Greve  with  cannon,  or  else 
open  to  right  and  left.  They  open ;  the  living  deluge  rushes 


USHER  MAILLARD. 


245 


Chap.  V. 
October  5. 


in.  Through  all  rooms  and  cabinets,  upwards  to  the  topmost 
belfry  :  ravenous  ;  seeking  arms,  seeking  Mayors,  seeking  jus¬ 
tice  ;  —  while,  again,  the  better-dressed  speak  kindly  to  the 
Clerks  ;  point  out  the  misery  of  these  poor  women  ;  also  their 
ailments,  some  even  of  an  interesting  sort.1 

Poor  M.  de  Gouvion  is  shiftless  in  this  .extremity ;  —  a  man 
shiftless,  perturbed :  who  will  one  day  commit  suicide.  How 
happy  for  him  that  Usher  Maillard  the  shifty  was  there,  at 
the  moment,  though  making  representations  !  Fly  back,  thou 
shifty  Maillard  :  seek  the  Bastille  Company ;  and  oh  return 
fast  with  it;  above  all,  with  thy  own  shifty  head!  For,  be¬ 
hold,  the  Judiths  can  find  no  Mayor  or  Municipal;  scarcely, 
in  the  topmost  belfry,  can  they  find  poor  Abbe  Lefevre  the 
Powder-distributor.  Him,  for  want  of  a  better,  they  suspend 
there  :  in  the  pale  morning  light ;  over  the  top  of  all  Paris, 
which  swims  in  one’s  failing  eyes :  —  a  horrible  end  ?  FTay 
the  rope  broke,  as  French  ropes  often  did ;  or  else  an  Amazon 
cut  it.  Abbe  Lefevre  falls,  some  twenty  feet,  rattling  among 
the  leads  ;  and  lives  long  years  after,  though  always  with  “  a 
tr emblement  in  the  limbs.”  2 

And  now  doors  fly  under  hatchets ;  the  Judiths  have  broken 
the  Armory  ;  have  seized  guns  and  cannons,  three  money-bags, 
paper-heaps  ;  torches  flare  :  in  few  minutes,  our  brave  Hotel- 
de-Ville,  which  dates  from  the  Fourth  Henry,  will,  with  all 
that  it  holds,  be  in  flames  ! 


CHAPTER  V. 

USHER  MAILLARD. 

In  flames,  truly,  —  were  it  not  that  Usher  Maillard,  swift 
of  foot,  shifty  of  head,  has  returned ! 

Maillard,  of  his  own  motion,  —  for  Gouvion  or  the  rest 

1  Deux  Amisf  iii.  141-166. 

2  Dusaulx  :  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  note,  p.  281. 


246  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

*  1789. 

would  not  even  sanction  him,  —  snatches  a  drum ;  descends 
the  Porch-stairs,  ran-tan,  beating  sharp,  with  loud  rolls,  his 
Rogues’-march  :  To  Versailles  !  AUons  j  a  Versailles!  As  men 
beat  on  kettle  or  warming-pan,  when  angry  she-bees,  or  say, 
flying  desperate  wasps,  are  to  be  hived  ;  and  the  desperate 
insects  hear  it,  and,  cluster  round  it,  —  simply  as  round  a 
guidance,  where  there  was  none:  so  now  these  Menads  round 
shifty  Maillard,  Riding-Usher  of  the  Chatelet.  The  axe  pauses 
uplifted  ;  Abbe  Lefevre  is  left  half  hanged :  from  the  belfry 
downwards  all  vomits  itself.  What  rub-a-dub  is  that  ?  Stan¬ 
islas  Maillard,  Bastille  hero,  will  lead  us  to  Versailles  ?  Joy 
to  thee,  Maillard ;  blessed  art  thou  above  Riding-Ushers ! 
Away,  then,  away ! 

The  seized  camion  are  yoked  with  seized  cart-horses :  brown- 
locked  Demoiselle  Theroigne,  with  pike  and  helmet,  sits  there 
as  gunneress,  “  with  haughty  eye  and  serene  fair  countenance ;  ” 
comparable,  some  think,  to  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  or  even  recall¬ 
ing  11  the  idea  of  Pallas  Athene.”  1  Maillard  (for  his  drum 
still  rolls)  is,  by  heaven-rending  acclamation,  admitted  Gen¬ 
eral.  Maillard  hastens  the  languid  march.  Maillard,  beating 
rhythmic,  with  sharp  ran-tan,  all  along  the  Quais,  leads  for¬ 
ward,  with  difficulty,  his  Menadic  host.  Such  a  host  —  marched 
not  in  silence  !  The  bargeman  pauses  on  the  River  ;  all  wag¬ 
oners  and  coach-drivers  fly  ;  men  peer  from  windows,  —  not 
women,  lest  they  be  pressed.  Sight  of  sights  :  Bacchantes,  in 
these  ultimate  Formalized  Ages  !  Bronze  Henri  looks  on,  from 
his  Pont-Neuf ;  the  Monarchic  Louvre,  Medicean  Tuileries  see 
a  day  like  none  heretofore  seen. 

And  now  Maillard  has  his  Menads  in  the  Champs  Elys^es 
(Fields  Tartarean  rather) ;  and  the  HGtel-de-Ville  has  suffered 
comparatively  nothing.  Broken  doors  ;  an  Abbe  Lefevre,  who 
shall  never  more  distribute  powder;  three  sacks  of  money, 
most  part  of  which  (for  Sansculottism,  though  famishing,  is 
not  without  honor)  shall  be  returned : 2  this  is  all  the  damage. 
Great  Maillard  !  A  small  nucleus  of  Order  is  round  his  drum ; 
but  his  outskirts  fluctuate  like  the  mad  Ocean :  for  Rascality 
male  and  female  is  flowing  in  on  him,  from  the  four  winds : 

1  Deux  AmiSj  iii.  1 57 .  2  Hist.  Pari,  iii  310. 


USHER  MAILLARD. 


CiiAr.  V. 

October  5.  • 


247 


guidance  there  is  none  but  in  his  single  head  and  two  drum¬ 
sticks. 

0  Maillard,  when,  since  War  first  was,  had  General  of 
Force  such  a  task  before  him  as  thou  this  day  ?  Walter  the 
Penniless  still  touches  the  feeling  heart :  but  then  Walter 
had  sanction ;  had  space  to  turn  in ;  and  also  his  Crusaders 
were  of  the  male  sex.  Thou,  this  day,  disowned  of  Heaven 
and  Earth,  art  General  of  Menads.  Their  inarticulate  frenzy 
thou  must,  on  the  spur  of  the  instant,  render  into  articulate 
words,  into  actions  that  are  not  frantic.  Fail  in  it,  this  way 
or  that !  Pragmatical  Officiality,  with  its  penalties  and  law¬ 
books,  waits  before  thee ;  Menads  storm  behind.  If  such 
hewed  off  the  melodious  head  of  Orpheus,  and  hurled  it  into 
the  Peneus  waters,  what  may  they  not  make  of  thee,  —  thee 
rhythmic  merely,  with  no  music  but  a  sheepskin  drum !  — 
Maillard  did  not  fail.  Remarkable  Maillard,  if  fame  were 
not  an  accident,  and  History  a  distillation  of  Rumor,  how 
remarkable  wert  thou! 

On  the  Elysian  Fields  there  is  pause  and  fluctuation ;  but, 
for  Maillard,  no  return.  He  persuades  his  Menads,  clamorous 
for  arms  and  the  Arsenal,  that  no  arms  are  in  the  Arsenal ; 
that  an  unarmed  attitude,  and  petition  to  a  National  Assembly, 
will  be  the  best :  he  hastily  nominates  or  sanctions  general- 
esses,  captains  of  tens  and  fifties ;  —  and  so,  in  loosest-flowing 
order,  to  the  rhythm  of  some  “  eight  drums  ”  (having  laid 
aside  his  own),  with  the  Bastille  Volunteers  bringing  up  his 
rear,  once  more  takes  the  road. 

Chaillot,  which  will  promptly  yield  baked  loaves,  is  not 
plundered;  nor  are  the  Sevres  Potteries  broken.  The  old 
-arches  of  Sevres  Bridge  echo  under  Menadic  feet ;  Seine  River 
gushes  on  with  his  perpetual  murmur ;  and  Paris  flings  after 
us  the  boom  of  tocsin  and  alarm-drum,  —  inaudible,  for  the 
present,  amid  shrill-sounding  hosts,  and  the  splash  of  rainy 
weather.  To  Meudon,  to  Saint-Cloud,  on  both  hands,  the 
report  of  them  is  gone  abroad;  and  hearths,  this  evening, 
will  have  a  topic.  The  press  of  women  still  continues,  for 
it  is  the  cause  of  all  Eve’s  Daughters,  mothers  that  are,  or 
that  ought  to  be.  No  carriage-lady,  were  it  with  never  such 


248  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

,  1789. 

hysterics,  but  must  dismount,  in  the  mud  roads,  in  her  silk 
shoes,  and  walk.1  In  this  manner,  amid  wild  October  weather, 
they,  a  wild  unwinged  stork-flight,  through  the  astonished 
country  wend  their  way.  Travellers  of  all  sorts  they  stop  ; 
especially  travellers  or  couriers  from  Paris.  Deputy  Lecha- 
pelier,  in  his  elegant  vesture,  from  his  elegant  vehicle,  looks 
forth  amazed  through  his  spectacles  ;  apprehensive  for  life ;  — 
states  eagerly  that  he  is  Patriot-Deputy  Lechapelier,  and  even 
Old-President  Lechapelier,  who  presided  on  the  Night  of  Pen¬ 
tecost,  and  is  original  member  of  the  Breton  Club.  Thereupon 
“rises  huge  shout  of  Vive  Lechapelier,  and  several  armed  per¬ 
sons  spring  up  behind  and  before  to  escort  him.”  2 

Nevertheless,  news,  despatches  from  Lafayette,  or  vague 
noise  of  rumor,  have  pierced  through,  by  side  roads.  In 
the  National  Assembly,  while  all  is  busy  discussing  the  order 
of  the  day ;  regretting  that  there  should  be  Anti-National 
Repasts  in  Opera-halls  ;  that  his  Majesty  should  still  hesitate 
about  accepting  the  Rights  of  Man,  and  hang  conditions  and 
peradventures  on  them,  —  Mirabeau  steps  up  to  the  President, 
experienced  Mounier  as  it  chanced  to  be ;  and  articulates,  in 
bass  undertone :  “  Mounier ,  Paris  marche  sur  nous  (Paris  is 
marching  on  us).”  —  “  May  be  ( Je  rten  sais  rien)  !  ”  —  “  Believe 
it  or  disbelieve  it,  that  is  not  my  concern ;  but  Paris,  I  say, 
is  marching  on  us.  Pall  suddenly  unwell ;  go  over  to  the 
Chateau ;  tell  them  this.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose.”  — 
“  Paris  marching  on  us  ?  ”  responds  Mounier,  with  an  atrabiliar 
accent:  “Well,  so  much  the  better!  We  shall  the  sooner 
be  a  Republic.”  Mirabeau  quits  him,  as  one  quits  an  experi¬ 
enced  President  getting  blindfold  into  deep  waters ;  and  the 
order  of  the  day  continues  as  before. 

Yes,  Paris  is  marching  on  us ;  and  more  than  the  women 
of  Paris  !  Scarcely  was  Maillard  gone,  when  M.  de  Gouvion’s 
message  to  all  the  Districts,  and  such  tocsin  and  drumming 
of  the  gene  rale,  began  to  take  effect.  Armed  National  Guards 
from  every  District ;  especially  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Centre, 

1  Deux  Amis,  iii.  159. 

2  Deux  Amis,  ii.  177 ;  Didionnaire  des  Homines  Marquans,  ii.  379. 


USHER  MAILLARD. 


249 


Chap.  Y. 
October  5. 


who  are  our  old  G-ardes  Frangaises,  arrive,  in  quick  sequence, 
on  the  Place  de  Greve.  An  “  immense  people  ”  is  there ; 
Saint-Antoine,  with  pike  and  rusty  firelock,  is  all  crowding 
thither,  be  it  welcome  or  unwelcome.  The  Centre  Grenadiers 
are  received  with  cheering :  “  It  is  not  cheers  that  we  want,” 
answer  they  gloomily ;  “  the  Nation  has  been  insulted ;  to 
arms,  and  come  with  us  for  orders  !  ”  Ha,  sits  the  wind  so  ? 
Patriotism  and  Patrollotism  are  now  one  ! 

The  Three  Hundred  have  assembled ;  “  all  the  Committees 
are  in  activity ;  ”  Lafayette  is  dictating  despatches  for  Ver¬ 
sailles,  when  a  Deputation  of  the  Centre  Grenadiers  introduces 
itself  to  him.  The  Deputation  makes  military  obeisance  ;  and 
thus  speaks,  not  without  a  kind  of  thought  in  it :  “  Mon  Gene¬ 
ral ,  we  are  deputed  by  the  Six  Companies  of  Grenadiers.  We 
do  not  think  you  a  traitor,  but  we  think  the  Government 
betrays  you;  it  is  time  that  this  end.  We  cannot  turn  our 
bayonets  against  women  crying  to  us  for  bread.  The  people 
are  miserable,  the  source  of  the  mischief  is  at  Versailles:  we 
must  go  seek  the  King,  and  bring  him  to  Paris.  We  must  ex¬ 
terminate  ( exterminer )  the  Regiment  de  Flandre  and  the  Gardes- 
du- Corps,  who  have  dared  to  trample  on  the  National  Cockade. 
If  the  King  be  too  weak  to  wear  his  crown,  let  him  lay  it 
down.  You  will  crown  his  Son,  you  will  name  a  Council  of 
Regency :  and  all  will  go  better.” 1  Reproachful  astonish¬ 
ment  paints  itself  on  the  face  of  Lafayette ;  speaks  itself 
from  his  eloquent  chivalrous  lips :  in  vain.  “  My  General, 
we  would  shed  the  last  drop  of  our  blood  for  you;  but  the 
root  of  the  mischief  is  at  Versailles  ;  we  must  go  and  bring 
the  King  to  Paris ;  all  the  people  wish  it,  tout  le  peuple  le 
■  veutP 

My  General  descends  to  the  outer  staircase  ;  and  harangues  : 
once  more  in  vain.  “  To  Versailles  !  To  Versailles  !  ”  Mayor 
Bailly,  sent  for  through  floods  of  Sansculottism,  attempts 
academic  oratory  from  his  gilt  state-coach ;  realizes  nothing 
but  infinite  hoarse  cries  of  :  “  Bread  !  To  Versailles  !  ”  —  and 
gladly  shrinks  within  doors.  Lafayette  mounts  the  white 
charger ;  and  again  harangues,  and  reharangues  :  with  elo- 

1  Deux  Amis,  iii.  161. 


250  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

quence,  with  firmness,  indignant  demonstration ;  with  all 
things  but  persuasion.  “To  Versailles  !  To  Versailles !  ”  So 
lasts  it,  hour  after  hour ;  —  for  the  space  of  half  a  day. 

The  great  Scipio-Americanus  can  do  nothing ;  not  so  much 
as  escape.  “ Morbleu,  mon  General ,”  cry  the  Grenadiers  serrying 
their  ranks  as  the  white  charger  makes  a  motion  that  way, 
“  you  will  not  leave  us,  you  will  abide  with  us  !  ”  A  perilous 
juncture :  Mayor  Bailly  and  the  Municipals  sit  quaking  within 
doors  ;  my  General  is  prisoner  without :  the  Place  de  Greve, 
with  its  thirty  thousand  Regulars,  its  whole  irregular  Saint- 
Antoine  and  Saint-Marceau,  is  one  minatory  mass  of  clear  or 
rusty  steel ;  all  hearts  set,  with  a  moody  fixedness,  on  one  ob¬ 
ject.  Moody,  fixed  are  all  hearts  :  tranquil  is  no  heart,  —  if  it 
be  not  that  of  the  white  charger,  who  paws  there,  with  arched 
neck,  composedly  champing  his  hit;  as  if  no  World,  with  its 
Dynasties  and  Eras,  were  now  rushing  down.  The  drizzly  day 
bends  westward ;  the  cry  is  still :  “  To  Versailles  !  ” 

Nay  now,  borne  from  afar,  come  quite  sinister  cries ;  hoarse, 
reverberating  in  long-drawn  hollow  murmurs,  with  syllables 
too  like  those  of  “  Lanterne  !  ”  Or  else,  irregular  Sansculott- 
ism  may  be  marching  off,  of  itself ;  with  pikes,  nay  with  can¬ 
non.  The  inflexible  Scipio  does  at  length,  by  aide-de-camp, 
ask  of  the  Municipals  :  Whether  or  not  he  may  go  ?  A  Letter 
is  handed  out  to  him,  over  armed  heads  ;  sixty  thousand  faces 
flash  fixedly  on  his,  there  is  stillness  and  no  bosom  breathes, 
till  he  have  read.  By  Heaven,  he  grows  suddenly  pale !  Do 
the  Municipals  permit  ?  “  Permit,  and  even  order,”  —  since 

he  can  no  other.  Clangor  of  approval  rends  the  welkin.  To 
your  ranks,  then  ;  let  us  march  ! 

It  is,  as  we  compute,  towards  three  in  the  afternoon.  In¬ 
dignant  National  Guards  may  dine  for  once  from  their  haver¬ 
sack:  dined  or  undined,  they  march  with  one  heart.  Paris 
flings  up  her  windows,  “  claps  hands,”  as  the  Avengers,  with 
their  shrilling  drums  and  shalms  tramp  by ;  she  will  then  sit 
pensive,  apprehensive,  and  pass  rather  a  sleepless  night.1  On 
the  white  charger,  Lafayette,  in  the  slowest  possible  manner, 
going  and  coming,  and  eloquently  haranguing  among  the  ranks, 

1  Deux  Amis,  iii.  165. 


TO  VERSAILLES. 


251 


Chap.  VI. 

October  5. 

rolls  onward  with  his  thirty  thousand.  Saint-Antoine,  with 
pike  and  cannon,  has  preceded  him ;  a  mixed  multitude,  of  all 
and  of  no  arms,  hovers  on  his  flanks  and  skirts  ;  the  country 
once  more  pauses  agape :  Paris  marche  sur  nous. 

- — 

CHAPTER  VI. 

TO  VERSAILLES. 

For,  indeed,  about  this  sgme  moment,  Maillard  has  halted 
his  draggled  Menads  on  the  last  hill-top ;  and  now  Versailles, 
and  the  Chateau  of  Versailles,  and  far  and  wide  the  inheri¬ 
tance  of  Royalty  opens  to  the  wondering  eye.  From  far  on 
the  right,  over  Marly  and  Saint-Germ ain-en-Laye ;  round 
towards  Rambouillet,  on  the  left :  beautiful  all ;  softly  em¬ 
bosomed  ;  as  if  in  sadness,  in  the  dim  moist  weather !  And 
near  before  us  is  Versailles,  New  and  Old;  with  that  broad 
frondent  Avenue  de  Versailles  between, — stately-frondent, 
broad,  three  hundred  feet  as  men  reckon,  with  its  four  Rows 
of  Elms  ;  and  then  the  Chateau  de  Versailles,  ending  in  royal 
Parks  and  Pleasances,  gleaming  Lakelets,  Arbors,  Labyrinths, 
the  Menagerie ,  and  Great  and  Little  Trianon.  High-towered 
dwellings,  leafy  pleasant  places ;  where  the  gods  of  this  lower 
world  abide  :  whence,  nevertheless,  black  Care  cannot  be  ex¬ 
cluded;  whither  Menadic  Hunger  is  even  now  advancing, 
armed  with  pike-thyrsi ! 

Yes,  yonder,  Mesdames,  where  our  straight  frondent  Ave¬ 
nue,  joined,  as  you  note,  by  Two  frondent  brother  Avenues 
from  this  hand  and  from  that,  spreads  out  into  Place  Royal 
and  Palace  Forecourt,  —  yonder  is  the  Salle-des-Menus.  Yon¬ 
der  an  august  Assembly  sits  regenerating  France.  Forecourt, 
Grand  Court,  Court  of -Marble,  Court  narrowing  into  Court  you 
may  discern  next,  or  fancy :  on  the  extreme  verge  of  which 
that  glass  dome,  visibly  glittering  like  a  star  of  hope,  is  the  — 
CEil-de-Bosuf  !  Yonder,  or  nowhere  in  the  world,  is  bread 


252  the  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

baked  for  us.  But,  0  Mesdames,  were  not  one  thing  good : 
That  our  cannons,  with  Demoiselle  Theroigne  and  all  show 
of  war,  be  put  to  the  rear  ?  Submission  beseems  petitioners 
of  a  National  Assembly ;  we  are  strangers  in  Versailles,  — 
whence,  too  audibly,  there  comes  even  now  a  sound  as  of 
tocsin  and  generate  !  Also  to  put  on,  if  possible,  a  cheerful 
countenance,  hiding  our  sorrows  ;  and  even  to  sing  ?  Sorrow, 
pitied  of  the  Heavens,  is  hateful,  suspicious  to  the  Earth.  — 
So  counsels  shifty  Maillard ;  haranguing  his  Menads,  on  the 
heights  near  Versailles.1 

Cunning  Maillard’s  dispositions  are  obeyed.  The  draggled 
Insurrectionists  advance  up  the  Avenue,  “  in  three  columns,” 
among  the  four  Elm-rows;  “singing  Henri  Quatre”  with 
what  melody  they  can ;  and  shouting  Vive  le  Roi.  Versailles, 
though  the  Elm-rows  are  dripping  wet,  crowds  from  both 
sides,  with :  “  Vivent  nos  Parisiennes,  Our  Paris  ones  for¬ 
ever  !  ” 

Prickers,  scouts  have  been  out  towards  Paris,  as  the  rumor 
deepened:  whereby  his  Majesty,  gone  to  shoot  in  the  Woods 
of  Meudon,  has  been  happily  discovered,  and  got  home ;  and 
the  generate  and  tocsin  set  a-sounding. "  The  Bodyguards  are 
already  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Palace  Grates ;  and  look 
down  the  Avenue  de  Versailles ;  sulky,  in  wet  buckskins. 
Elandre  too  is  there,  repentant  of  the  Opera-Repast.  Also 
Dragoons  dismounted  are  there.  Finally  Major  Lecointre, 
and  what  he  can  gather  of  the  Versailles  National  Guard;  — 
though  it  is  to  be  observed,  our  Colonel,  that  same  sleepless 
Count  d’Estaing,  giving  neither  order  nor  ammunition,  has 
vanished  most  improperly ;  one  supposes,  into  the  CEil-de- 
Boeuf.  Red-coated  Swiss  stand  within  the  Grates,  under 
arms.  There  likewise,  in  their  inner  room,  “all  the  Minis¬ 
ters,”  Saint-Priest,  Lamentation  Pompignan  and  the  rest,  are 
assembled  with  M.  Necker :  they  sit  with  him  there ;  blank, 
expecting  what  the  hour  will  bring. 

President  Mounier,  though  he  answered  Mirabeau  with  a 
tant  mieux ,  and  affected  to  slight  the  matter,  had  his  own 
1  See  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  70-117  ;  Deux  Amis,  iii.  166-177,  &c. 


TO  VERSAILLES. 


253 


Chap.  VI. 

October  5. 

forebodings.  Surely,  for  these  four  weary  hours  he  has  re¬ 
clined  not  on  roses  !  The  order  of  the  day  is  getting  forward : 
a  Deputation  to  his  Majesty  seems  proper,  that  it  might 
please  him  to  grant  “  Acceptance  pure  and  simple  ”  to  those 
Constitution- Articles  of  ours ;  the  “  mixed  qualified  Accep¬ 
tance,”  with  its  peradventures,  is  satisfactory  to  neither  gods 
nor  men. 

So  much  is  clear.  And  yet  there  is  more,  which  no  man 
speaks,  which  all  men  now  vaguely  understand.  Disquie¬ 
tude,  absence  of  mind  is  on  every  face;  Members  whisper, 
uneasily  come  and  go  :  the  order  of  the  day  is  evidently  not 
the  day’s  want.  Till  at  length,  from  the  outer  gates,  is  heard 
a  rustling  and  justling,  shrill  uproar  and  squabbling,  muffled 
by  walls ;  which  testifies  that  the  hour  is  come !  Rushing 
and  crushing  one  hears  now ;  then  enter  Usher  Maillard, 
with  a  Deputation  of  Fifteen  muddy  dripping  Women,  — 
having,  by  incredible  industry,  and  aid  of  all  the  macers, 
persuaded  the  rest  to  wait  out  of  doors.  National  Assembly 
shall  now,  therefore,  look  its  august  task  directly  in  the  face :  ’ 
regenerative  Constitutionalism  has  an  unregenerate  Sanscu- 
lottisn!  bodily  in  front  of  it ;  crying,  “  Bread !  Bread  !  ” 

Shifty  Maillard,  translating  frenzy  into  articulation;  re¬ 
pressive  with  the  one  hand,  expostulative  with  the  other, 
does  his  best ;  and  really,  though  not  bred  to  public  speaking, 
manages  rather  well :  —  In  the  present  dreadful  rarity  of 
grains,  a  Deputation  of  Female  Citizens  has,  as  the  august 
Assembly  can  discern,  come  out  from  Paris  to  petition.  Plots 
of  Aristocrats  are  too  evident  in  the  matter ;  for  example, 
one  miller  has  been  bribed  “by  a  bank-note  of  two  hundred 
livres”  not  to  grind, — name  unknown  to  the  Usher,  but  fact 
provable,  at  least  indubitable.  Further,  it  seems,  the  National 
Cockade  has  been  trampled  on;  also  there  are  Black  Cock¬ 
ades,  or  were.  All  which  things  will  not  an  august  National 
Assembly,  the  hope  of  France,  take  into  its  wise  immediate 
consideration  ? 

And  Menadic  Hunger,  irrepressible,  crying  “Black  Cock¬ 
ades,”  crying  “Bread,  Bread,”  adds,  after  such  fashion  :  Will  it 
not  ?- — Yes,  Messieurs,  if  a  Deputation  to  his  Majesty,  for  the 


254  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  YII. 

-  1789. 

“  Acceptance  pure  and  simple,”  seemed  proper,  —  how  much 
more  now,  for  “  the  afflicting  situation  of  Paris ;  ”  for  the  calm¬ 
ing  of  this  effervescence  !  President  Mounier,  with  a  speedy 
Deputation,  among  whom  we  notice  the  respectable  figure  of 
Doctor  Guillotin,  gets  himself  forward  on  march.  Vice- 
President  shall  continue  the  order  of  the  day;  Usher  Maillard 
shall  stay  by  him  to  repress  the  women.  It  is  four  o’clock, 
of  the  miserablest  afternoon,  when  Mounier  steps  out. 

0  experienced  Mounier,  what  an  afternoon ;  the  last  of  thy 
political  existence !  Better  had  it  been  to  “  fall  suddenly 
unwell,”  while  it  was  yet  time.  For,  behold,  the  Esplanade, 
over  all  its  spacious  expanse,  is  covered  with  groups  of  squalid 
dripping  Women ;  of  lank-haired  male  Rascality,  armed  with 
axes,  rusty  pikes,  old  muskets,  iron-shod  clubs  ( batons  fences, 
which  end  in  knives  or  sword-blades,  a  kind  of  extempore 
billhook)  ;  —  looking  nothing  but  hungry  revolt.  The  rain 
pours :  Gardes-du-Corps  go  caracoling  through  the  groups 
“amid  hisses;”  irritating  and  agitating  what  is  but  dispersed 
here  to  reunite  there. 

Innumerable  squalid  women  beleaguer  the  President  and 
Deputation ;  insist  on  going  with  him  :  has  not  his  Majesty 
himself,  looking  from  the  window,  sent  out  to  ask,  What  we 
wanted?  “Bread,  and  speech  with  the  King  {Du  pain  et 
parler  au  fioi),”  that  was  the  answer.  Twelve  women  are 
clamorously  added  to  the  Deputation ;  and  march  with  it, 
across  the  Esplanade ;  through  dissipated  groups,  caracoling 
Body-guards  and  the  pouring  rain. 

President  Mounier,  unexpectedly  augmented  by  Twelve 
women,  copiously  escorted  by  Hunger  and  Rascality,  is 
himself  mistaken  for  a  group :  himself  and  his  Women  are 
dispersed  by  caracolers;  rally  again  with  difficulty,  among 
the  mud.1  Finally  the  Grates  are  opened ;  the  Deputation 
gets  access,  with  the  Twelve  women  too  in  it;  of  which 
latter,  Five  shall  even  see  the  face  of  his  Majesty.  Let  wet 
Menadism,  in  the  best  spirits  it  can,  expect  their  return. 

s 

1  Mounier:  Expos€  .J ustificatif  (cited  in  Deux  Amis,  iii.  185). 


Chap.  VII. 
October  5. 


AT  VERSAILLES. 


255 


CHAPTER  VII. 

i 

AT  VERSAILLES. 

But  already  Pallas  Athene  (in  the  shape  of  Demoiselle 
Theroigne)  is  busy  with  Flandre  and  the  dismounted  Dra¬ 
goons.  She,  and  such  women  as  are  fittest,  go  through  the 
ranks ;  speak  with  an  earnest  jocosity ;  clasp  rough  troopers 
to  their  patriot  bosom,  crush  down  spontoons  and  musketoons 
with  soft  arms  :  can  a  man,  that  were  worthy  of  the  name  of 
man,  attack  famishing  patriot  women  ? 

One  reads  that  Theroigne  had  bags  of  money,  which  she 
distributed  over  Elandre  :  —  furnished  by  whom  ?  Alas,  with 
money-bags  one  seldom  sits  on  insurrectionary  cannon.  Ca¬ 
lumnious  Royalism  !  Theroigne  had  only  the  limited  earnings 
of  her  profession  of  unfortunate  female  ;  money  she  had  not, 
but  brown  locks,  the  figure  of  a  Heathen  Goddess  and  an  elo¬ 
quent  tongue  and  heart. 

Meanwhile  Saint-Antoine,  in  groups  and  troops,  is  continu¬ 
ally  arriving ;  wetted,  sulky  ;  with  pikes  and  impromptu  bill¬ 
hooks  :  driven  thus  far  by  popular  fixed-idea.  So  many  hir¬ 
sute  figures  driven  hither,  in  that  manner :  figures  that  have 
come  to  do  they  know  not  what ;  figures  that  have  come  to 
see  it  done  !  Distinguished  among  all  figures,  who  is  this, 
of  gaunt  stature,  with  leaden  breastplate,  though  a  small 
one ; 1  bushy  in  red  grizzled  locks  ;  nay  with  long  tile-beard  ? 
It  is  Jourdan,  unjust  dealer  in  mules  ;  a  dealer  no  longer,  but 
a  Painter’s  Model,  playing  truant  this  day.  Prom  the  neces¬ 
sities  of  Art  comes  his  long  tile-beard ;  whence  his  leaden 
breastplate  (unless  indeed  he  were  some  Hawker  licensed  by 
leaden  badge)  may  have  come,  will  perhaps  remain  forever  a 
Historical  Problem.  Another  Saul  among  the  people  we  dis- 

1  See  Weber,  ii.  185-231. 


256  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  vii. 

1789. 

cern  :  “  Pere  Adam ,  Father  Adam/5  as  the  groups  name  him  ; 
to  us  better  known  as  bull-voiced  Marquis  Saint-Huruge  ;  hero 
of  the  Veto ;  a  man  that  has  had  losses,  and  deserved  them. 
The  tall  Marquis,  emitted  some  days  ago  from  limbo,  looks 
peripatetically  on  this  scene  from  under  his  umbrella,  not 
without  interest.  All  which  persons  and  things,  hurled  to¬ 
gether  as  we  see  ;  Pallas  Athene,  busy  with  Flandre ;  patriotic 
Versailles  National  Guards,  short  of  ammunition,  and  deserted 
by  D’Estaing  their  Colonel,  and  commanded  by  Lecointre  their 
Major ;  then  caracoling  Body-guards,  sour,  dispirited,  with 
their  buckskins  wet;  and  finally  this  flowing  sea  of  indig¬ 
nant  Squalor,  —  may  they  not  give  rise  to  occurrences  ? 

Behold,  however,  the  Twelve  She-deputies  return  from  the 
Chateau.  Without  President  Mounier,  indeed ;  but  radiant 
with  joy,  shouting  u  Life  to  the  King  and  his  House.”  Appar¬ 
ently  the  news  are  good,  Mesdames  ?  News  of  the  best ! 
Five  of  us  were  admitted  to  the  internal  splendors,  to  the 
Royal  Presence.  This  slim  damsel,  “  Louison  Chabray,  worker 
in  sculpture,  aged  only  seventeen,”  as  being  of  the  best  looks 
and  address,  her  we  appointed  speaker.  On  whom,  and  indeed 
on  all  of  us,  his  Majesty  looked  nothing  but  graciousness.  Nay 
when  Louison,  addressing  him,  was  like  to  faint,  he  took  her 
in  his  royal  arms,  and  said  gallantly,  u  It  was  well  worth  while 
{KUe  en  valut  bien  la  peine)”  Consider,  0  Women,  what  a 
King !  His  words  were  of  comfort,  and  that  only :  there 
shall  be  provision  sent  to  Paris,  if  provision  is  in  the  world ; 
grams  shall  circulate  free  as  air ;  millers  shall  grind,  or  do 
worse,  while  their  millstones  endure ;  and  nothing  be  left 
wrong  which  a  Restorer  of  French  Liberty  can  right. 

Good  news  these ;  but,  to  wet  Menads,  all  too  incredible  ! 
There  seems  no  proof,  then  ?  Words  of  comfort,  —  they  are 
words  only ;  which  will  feed  nothing.  0  miserable  People, 
betrayed  by  Aristocrats,  who  corrupt  thy  very  messengers ! 
In  his  royal  arms,  Mademoiselle  Louison  ?  In  his  arms  ? 
Thou  shameless  minx,  worthy  of  a  name  —  that  shall  be  name¬ 
less  !  Yes,  thy  skin  is  soft :  ours  is  rough  with  hardship ; 
and  well  wetted,  waiting  here  in  the  rain.  No  children  hast 


AT  VERSAILLES. 


257 


Chap.  VII. 

October  5. 

thou  hungry  at  home ;  only  alabaster  dolls,  that  weep  not ! 
The  traitress !  To  the  Lanterne  !  —  And  so  poor  Louison  Cha- 
bray,  no  asseveration  or  shrieks  availing  her,  fair  slim  damsel, 
late  in  the  arms  of  Royalty,  has  a  garter  round  her  neck,  and 
furibund  Amazons  at  each  end ;  is  about  to  perish  so,  —  when 
two  Body-guards  gallop  up,  indignantly  dissipating ;  and  res¬ 
cue  her.  The  miscredited  Twelve  hasten  back  to  the  Chateau, 
for  an  “  answer  in  writing.” 

Nay,  behold,  a  new  flight  of  Menads,  with  “M.  Brunout  Bas¬ 
tille  Volunteer,”  as  impressed  commandant,  at  the  head  of  it. 
These  also  will  advance  to  the  Grate  of  the  Grand  Court,  and 
see  what  is  toward.  Human  patience,  in  wet  buckskins,  has 
its  limits.  Body-guard  Lieutenant  M.  de  Savonnieres  for  one 
moment  lets  his  temper,  long  provoked,  long  pent,  give  way. 
He  not  only  dissipates  these  latter  Menads ;  but  caracoles  and 
cuts,  or  indignantly  flourishes,  at  M.  Brunout,  the  impressed 
commandant ;  and,  finding  great  relief  in  it,  even  chases  him  ; 
Brunout  flying  nimbly,  though  in  a  pirouette  manner,  and  now 
with  sword  also  drawn.  At  which  sight  of  wrath  and  victory, 
two  other  Body-guards  (for  wrath  is  contagious,  and  to  pent 
Body-guards  is  so  solacing)  do  likewise  give  way ;  give  chase, 
with  brandished  sabre,  and  in  the  air  make  horrid  circles. 
So  that  poor  Brunout  has  nothing  for  it  but  to  retreat  with 
accelerated  nimbleness,  through  rank  after  rank;  Parthian- 
like,  fencing  as  he  flies ;  above  all,  shouting  lustily,  “  On  nous 
laisse  assassiner,  They  are  getting  us  assassinated !  ” 

Shameful !  Three  against  one !  Growls  come  from  the 
Lecointrian  ranks;  bellowings, — lastly  shots.  Savonnieres’ 
arm  is  raised  to  strike:  the  bullet  of  a  Lecointrian  musket 
shatters  it ;  the  brandished  sabre  jingles  down  harmless.  Bru¬ 
nout  has  escaped,  this  duel  well  ended  :  but  the  wild  howl  of 
war  is  everywhere  beginning  to  pipe  ! 

The  Amazons  recoil ;  Saint- Antoine  has  its  cannon  pointed 
(full  of  grape-shot)  ;  thrice  applies  the  lit  flambeau ;  which 
thrice  refuses  to  catch,  —  the  touch-holes  are  so  wetted ;  and 
voices  cry  :  “  Arretez,  il  n’est  pas  temps  encore ,  Stop,  it  is  not 
yet  time  !  ” 1  Messieurs  of  the  Garde-du-Corps,  ye  had  orders 


VOL.  HI. 


1  Deux  Amis,  ii.  192-201. 
17 


258  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

not  to  fire ;  nevertheless  two  of  you  limp  dismounted,  and  one 
war-horse  lies  slain.  Were  it  not  well  to  draw  hack  out  of 
shot-range ;  finally  to  file  off,  —  into  the  interior  ?  If  in  so 
filing  off,  there  did  a  musketoon  or  two  discharge  itself  at 
these  armed  shopkeepers,  hooting  and  crowing,  could  man 
wonder  ?  Draggled  are  your  white  cockades  of  an  enormous 
size  ;  would  to  Heaven  they  were  got  exchanged  for  tricolor 
ones  !  Your  buckskins  are  wet,  your  hearts  heavy.  Go,  and 
return  not ! 

The  Body-guards  file  off,  as  we  hint ;  giving  and  receiving 
shots ;  drawing  no  life-blood ;  leaving  boundless  indignation. 
Some  three  times  in  the  thickening  dusk,  a  glimpse  of  them 
is  seen,  at  this  or  the  other  Portal :  saluted  always  with  exe¬ 
crations,  with  the  whew  of  lead.  Let  but  a  Body-guard  show 
face,  he  is  hunted  by  Rascality ;  —  for  instance,  poor  “  M.  de 
Moucheton  of  the  Scotch  Company,”  owner  of  the  slain  war- 
horse;  and  has  to  be  smuggled  off  by  Versailles  Captains. 
Or  rusty  firelocks  belch  after  him,  shivering  asunder  his  — 
hat.  In  the  end,  by  superior  Order,  the  Body-guards,  all  but 
the  few  on  immediate  duty,  disappear ;  or  as  it  were  abscond ; 
and  march,  under  cloud  of  night,  to  Rambouillet.1 

We  remark  also  that  the  Versaillese  have  now  got  ammuni¬ 
tion  :  all  afternoon,  the  official  Person  could  find  none ;  till,  in 
these  so  critical  moments,  a  patriotic  Sublieutenant  set  a  pis¬ 
tol  to  his  ear,  and  would  thank  him  to  find  some,  —  which 
he  thereupon  succeeded  in  doing.  Likewise  that  Flandre,  dis¬ 
armed  by  Pallas  Athene,  says  openly,  it  will  not  fight  with 
citizens  ;  and  for  token  of  peace  has  exchanged  cartridges  with 
the  Versaillese. 

Sansculottism  is  now  among  mere  friends ;  and  can  “  circu¬ 
late  freely  ;  ”  indignant  at  Body-guards  ;  —  complaining  also 
considerably  of  hunger. 


1  Weber,  ubi  supra. 


Chap.  VIII. 
October  5. 


THE  EQUAL  DIET. 


259 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  EQUAL  DIET. 

But  why  lingers  Mounier;  returns  not  with  his  Deputa¬ 
tion  ?  It  is  six,  it  is  seven  o’clock ;  and  still  no  Mounier,  no 
Acceptance  pure  and  simple. 

And,  behold,  the  dripping  Menads,  not  now  in  deputation 
but  in  mass,  have  penetrated  into  the  Assembly :  to  the 
shamefulest  interruption  of  public  speaking  and  order  of  the 
day.  Neither  Maillard  nor  Vice-President  can  restrain  them, 
except  within  wide  limits ;  not  even,  except  for  minutes,  can 
the  lion-voice  of  Mirabeau,  though  they  applaud  it :  but  ever 
and  anon  they  break  in  upon  the  regeneration  of  France  with 
cries  of  :  “  Bread ;  not  so  much  discoursing !  Du  pain ;  pas 
tant  de  longs  discours  !  ”  —  So  insensible  were  these  poor  crea¬ 
tures  to  bursts  of  parliamentary  eloquence  ! 

One  learns  also  that  the  royal  Carriages  are  getting  yoked, 
as  if  for  Metz.  Carriages,  royal  or  not,  have  verily  showed 
themselves  at  the  back  Gates.  They  even  produced,  or  quoted, 
a  written  order  from  our  Versailles  Municipality,  — which  is  a 
Monarchic  not  a  Democratic  one.  However,  Versailles  Patrols 
drove  them  in  again ;  as  the  vigilant  Lecointre  had  strictly 
charged  them  to  do. 

A  busy  man,  truly,  is  Major  Lecointre,  in  these  hours.  For 
Colonel  d’Estaing  loiters  invisible  in  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  invisi¬ 
ble,  or  still  more  questionably  visible  for  instants :  then  also  a 
too  loyal  Municipality  requires  supervision  :  no  order,  civil  or 
military,  taken  about  any  of  these  thousand  things  !  Lecointre 
is  at  the  Versailles  Town-hall :  he  is  at  the  Grate  of  the  Grand 
Court ;  communing  with  Swiss  and  Body-guards.  He  is  in  the 
ranks  of  Flandre  ;  he  is  here,  he  is  there  :  studious  to  prevent 


260  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII, 

1789. 

bloodshed ;  to  prevent  the  Royal  Family  from  flying  to  Metz ; 
the  Menads  from  plundering  Versailles. 

At  the  fall  of  night,  we  behold  him  advance  to  those  armed 
groups  of  Saint-Antoine,  hovering  all  too  grim  near  the  Salle- 
des-Menus.  They  receive  him  in  a  half-circle  ;  twelve  speak¬ 
ers  behind  cannons  with  lighted  torches  in  hand,  the  cannon- 
mouths  towards  Lecointre :  a  picture  for  Salvator !  He  asks, 
in  temperate  but  courageous  language  :  What  they,  by  this 
their  journey  to  Versailles,  do  specially  want  ?  The  twelve 
speakers  reply,  in  few  words  inclusive  of  much :  “  Bread,  and 
the  end  of  these  brabbles ;  Du  pain,  et  la  Jin  des  affaires .” 
When  the  affairs  will  end,  no  Major  Lecointre,  nor  no  mortal, 
can  say ;  but  as  to  bread,  he  inquires,  How  many  are  you  ?  — 
learns  that  they  are  six  hundred,  that  a  loaf  each  will  suffice  ; 
and  rides  off  to  the  Municipality  to  get  six  hundred  loaves. 

Which  loaves,  however,  a  Municipality  of  Monarchic  temper 
will  not  give.  It  will  give  two  tons  of  rice  rather,  —  could 
you  but  know  whether  it  should  be  boiled  or  raw.  Nay  when 
this  too  is  accepted,  the  Municipals  have  disappeared ;  — 
ducked  under,  as  the  Six-and-twenty  Long-gowned  of  Paris 
did  ;  and,  leaving  not  the  smallest  vestige  of  .  rice,  in  the 
boiled  or  raw  state,  they  there  vanish  from  History  ! 

Rice  comes  not ;  one’s  hope  of  food  is  balked ;  even  one’s 
hope  of  vengeance :  is  not  M.  de  Moucheton  of  the  Scotch 
Company,  as  we  said,  deceitfully  smuggled  off  ?  Failing  all 
which,  behold  only  M.  de  Moucheton’s  slain  war-horse,  lying 
on  the  Esplanade  there !  Saint-Antoine,  balked,  esurient, 
pounces  on  the  slain  war-horse  ;  flays  it roasts  it,  with  such 
fuel,  of  paling,  gates,  portable  timber  as  can  be  come  at,  not 
without  shouting ;  and,  after  the  manner  of  ancient  Greek 
Heroes,  they  lifted  their  hands  to  the  daintily  readied  repast ; 
such  as  it  might  be.1  Other  Rascality  prowls  discursive ; 
seeking  what  it  may  devour.  Flandre  will  retire  to  its  bar¬ 
racks  ;  Lecointre  also  with  his  Versaillese,  —  all  but  the  vigi¬ 
lant  Patrols,  charged  to  be  doubly  vigilant. 

So  sink  the  shadows  of  night,  blustering,  rainy ;  and  all  paths 
grow  dark.  Strangest  Night  ever  seen  in  these  regions,  —  per- 

1  Weber;  Deux  Amis ,  &c. 


Chap.  VIII.  THE  EQUAL  DIET.  261 

October  5. 

haps  since  the  Bartholomew  Night,  when  Versailles,  as  Bassom- 
pierre  writes  of  it,  was  a  chetif  chateau.  Oh  for  the  Lyre  of 
some  Orpheus,  to  constrain,  with  touch  of  melodious  strings, 
these  mad  masses  into  Order !  For  here  all  seems  fallen  asun¬ 
der,  in  wide-yawning  dislocation.  The  highest,  as  in  down- 
rushing  of  a  World,  is  come  in  contact  with  the  lowest :  the 
Rascality  of  France  beleaguering  the  Royalty  of  France ; 
“  iron-shod  batons  ”  lifted  round  the  diadem,  not  to  guard 
it !  With  denunciations  of  blood-thirsty  Anti-National  Body¬ 
guards,  are  heard  dark  growlings  against  a  Queenly  Name. 

The  Court  sits  tremulous,  powerless  ;  varies  with  the  vary¬ 
ing  temper  of  the  Esplanade,  with  the  varying  color  of  the 
rumors  from  Paris.  Thick-coming  rumors ;  now  of  peace,  now 
of  war.  Necker  and  all  the  Ministers  consult ;  with  a  blank 
issue.  The  (Eil-de-Boeuf  is  one  tempest  of  whispers:  —  We 
will  fly  to  Metz ;  we  will  not  fly.  The  royal  Carriages  again 
attempt  egress,  —  though  for  trial  merely ;  they  are  again 
driven  in  by  Lecointre’s  Patrols.  In  six  hours  nothing  has 
been  resolved  on ;  not  even  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple. 

In  six  hours  ?  Alas,  he  who,  in  such  circumstances,  cannot 
resolve  in  six  minutes,  may  give  up  the  enterprise :  him  Fate 
has  already  resolved  for.  And  Menadism,  meanwhile,  and 
Sansculottism  take  counsel  with  the  National  Assembly ; 
grow  more  and  more  tumultuous  there.  Mounier  returns 
not  ;  Authority  nowhere  shows  itself  :  the  Authority  of 
France  lies,  for  the  present,  with  Lecointre  and  Usher  Mail- 
lard.  —  This  then  is  the  abomination  of  desolation ;  come  sud¬ 
denly,  though  long  foreshadowed  as  inevitable  !  For,  to  the 
blind,  all  things  are  sudden.  Misery  which,  through  long 
ages,  had  no  spokesman,  no  helper,  will  now  be  its  own  helper 
and  speak  for  itself.  The  dialect,  one  of  the  rudest,  is,  what 
it  could  be,  this. 

At  eight  o’clock  there  returns  to  our  Assembly  not  the 
Deputation;  but  Doctor  Guillotin  announcing  that  it  will 
return ;  also  that  there  is  hope  of  the  Acceptance  pure  and 
simple.  He  himself  has  brought  a  Royal  Letter,  authorizing 
and  commanding  the  freest  “  circulation  of  grains.”  Which 
Royal  Letter  Menadism  with  its  whole  heart  applauds.  Con- 


262  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

formably  to  which  the  Assembly  forthwith  passes  a  Decree  ; 
also  received  with  rapturous  Menadic  plaudits  :  —  Only  could 
not  an  august  Assembly  contrive  farther  to  “ fix  the  price  of 
bread  at  eight  sous  the  half-quartern ;  butchers’-meat  at  six 
sous  the  pound ;  ”  which  seem  fair  rates  ?  Such  motion  do 
“  a  multitude  of  men  and  women,”  irrepressible  by  Usher 
Maillard,  now  make ;  does  an  august  Assembly  hear  made. 
Usher  Maillard  himself  is  not  always  perfectly  measured  in 
speech ;  but  if  rebuked,  he  can  justly  excuse  himself  by  the 
peculiarity  of  the  circumstances.1 

But  finally,  this  Decree  wrell  passed,  and  the  disorder  con¬ 
tinuing  ;  and  Members  melting  away,  and  no  President  Mou¬ 
rner  returning,  —  what  can  the  Vice-President  do  but  also  melt 
away  ?  The  Assembly  melts,  under  such  pressure,  into  de- 
liquium;  or,  as  it  is  officially  called,  adjourns.  Maillard  is 
despatched  to  Paris,  with  the  “  Decree  concerning  Grains  ”  in 
his  pocket ;  he  and  some  women,  in  carriages  belonging  to  the 
King.  Thitherward  slim  Louison  Chabray  has  already  set 
forth,  with  that  “ written  answer”  which  the  Twelve  She- 
deputies  returned  in  to  seek.  Slim  sylph,  she  has  set  forth, 
through  the  black  muddy  country :  she  has  much  to  tell,  her 
poor  nerves  so  flurried ;  and  travels,  as  indeed  to-day  on  this 
road  all  persons  do,  with  extreme  slowness.  President  Mou- 
nier  has  not  come,  nor  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple ; 
though  six  hours  with  their  events  have  come ;  though  courier 
on  courier  reports  that  Lafayette  is  coming.  Coming,  with 
war  or  with  peace  ?  It  is  time  that  the  Chateau  also  should 
determine  on  one  thing  or  another ;  that  the  Chateau  also 
should  show  itself  alive,  if  it  would  continue  living ! 

Victorious,  joyful  after  such  delay,  Mounier  does  arrive  at 
last,  and  the  hard-earned  Acceptance,  with  him ;  which  now, 
alas,  is  of  small  value.  Fancy  Mounier’s  surprise  to  find  his 
Senate,  whom  he  hoped  to  charm  by  the  Acceptance  pure  and 
simple,  all  gone  ;  and  in  its  stead  a  Senate  of  Menads  !  For 
as  Erasmus’s  Ape  mimicked,  say  with  wrooden  splint,  Erasmus 
shaving,  so  do  these  Amazons  hold,  in  mock  majesty,  some 
confused  parody  of  National  Assembly.  They  make  motions  ; 

1  Moniteur  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  105). 


THE  EQUAL  DIET. 


263 


Chap.  VIII. 
October  5. 


deliver  speeches ;  pass  enactments  ;  productive  at  least  of  loud 
laughter.  All  galleries  and  benches  are  filled  ;  a  Strong  Dame 
of  the  Market  is  in  Mourner’s  Chair.  Not  without  difficulty, 
Mounier,  by  aid  of  macers  and  persuasive  speaking,  makes 
his  way  to  the  Female  President ;  the  Strong  Dame,  before 
abdicating,  signifies  that,  for  one  thing,  she  and  indeed  her 
whole  senate  male  and  female  (for  what  was  one  roasted  war- 
horse  among  so  many  ?)  are  suffering  very  considerably  from 
hunger. 

Experienced  Mounier,  in  these  circumstances,  takes  a  two¬ 
fold  resolution:  To  reconvoke  his  Assembly  Members  by 
sound  of  drum;  also  to  procure  a  supply  of  food.  Swift 
messengers  fly,  to  all  bakers,  cooks,  pastrycooks,  vintners, 
restorers;  drums  beat,  accompanied  with  shrill  vocal  proclama¬ 
tion,  through  all  streets.  They  come  :  the  Assembly  Members 
come ;  what  is  still  better,  the  provisions  come.  On  tray  and 
barrow  come  these  latter ;  loaves,  wine,  great  store  of  sau¬ 
sages.  The  nourishing  baskets  circulate  harmoniously  along 
the  benches  ;  nor ,  according  to  the  Father  of  Epics,  did  any 
sold  lack  a  fair  share  of  victual  (Safros  cwnys,  an  equal  diet) ; 
highly  desirable  at  the  moment.1 

Gradually  some  hundred  or  so  of  Assembly  Members  get 
edged  in,  Menadism  making  way  a  little,  round  Mounier’s 
chair ;  listen  to  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple ;  and  begin, 
what  is  the  order  of  the  night,  “  discussion  of  the  Penal 
Code.”  All  benches  are  crowded;  in  the  dusky  galleries, 
duskier  with  unwashed  heads,  is  a  strange  “  coruscation,”  — 
of  impromptu  billhooks.2  It  is  exactly  five  months  this  day 
since  these  same  galleries  were  filled  with  high-plumed  jew¬ 
elled  Beauty,  raining  bright  influences ;  and  now  ?  To  such 
length  have  we  got  in  regenerating  France.  Methinks  the 
travail-throes  are  of  the  sharpest !  —  Menadism  will  not  be 
restrained  from  occasional  remarks ;  asks,  “  What  is  the  use 
of  Penal  Code  ?  The  thing  we  want  is  Bread.”  Mirabeau 
turns  round  with  lion-voiced  rebuke ;  Menadism  applauds 
him;  but  recommences. 


1  Deux  Amis,  iii.  208. 

2  Courvier  de  Provence  (Mirabeau’s  Newspaper),  No.  50,  p.  19. 


264  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

Thus  they,  chewing  tough  sausages,  discussing  the  Penal 
Code,  make  night  hideous.  What  the  issue  will  be  ?  Lafay¬ 
ette  with  his  thirty  thousand  must  arrive  first :  him,  who 
cannot  now  be  distant,  all  men  expect,  as  the  messenger  of 
Destiny. 


♦ 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LAFAYETTE. 

Towards  midnight  lights  fiare  on  the  hill;  Lafayette’s 
lights !  The  roll  of  his  drums  comes  up  the  Avenue  de  Ver¬ 
sailles.  With  peace,  or  with  war  ?  Patience,  friends  !  With 
neither.  Lafayette  is  come,  but  not  yet  the  catastrophe. 

He  has  halted  and  harangued  so  often,  on  the  march  ;  spent 
nine  hours  on  four  leagues  of  road.  At  Montreuil,  close  on 
Versailles,  the  whole  Host  had  to  pause ;  and,  with  uplifted 
right  hand,  in  the  murk  of  Night,  to  these  pouring  skies, 
swear  solemnly  to  respect  the  King’s  Dwelling ;  to  be  faithful 
to  King  and  National  Assembly.  Rage  is  driven  down  out  of 
sight,  by  the  laggard  march ;  the  thirst  of  vengeance  slaked 
in  weariness  and  soaking  clothes.  Flandre  is  again  drawn 
out  under  arms :  but  Flandre,  grown  so  patriotic,  now  needs 
no  “  exterminating.”  The  wayworn  Battalions  halt  in  the 
Avenue  :  they  have,  for  the  present,  no  wish  so  pressing  as 
that  of  shelter  and  rest. 

Anxious  sits  President  Mounier ;  anxious  the  Chateau. 
There  is  a  message  coming  from  the  Chateau,  that  M.  Mou¬ 
nier  would  please  to  return  thither  with  a  fresh  Deputation, 
swiftly ;  and  so  at  least  unite  our  two  anxieties.  Anxious 
Mounier  does  of  himself  send,  meanwhile,  to  apprise  the 
General  that  his  Majesty  has  been  so  gracious  as  to  grant 
us  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple.  The  General,  with  a 
small  advance  column,  makes  answer  in  passing;  speaks 
vaguely  some  smooth  words  to  the  National  President,  — 
glances,  only  with  the  eye,  at  that  so  mixtiform  National 


LAFAYETTE. 


265 


Chap.  IX. 

October  5-6. 

Assembly;  then  fares  forward  towards  the  Chateau.  There 
are  with  him  two  Paris  Municipals  ;  they  were  chosen  from 
the  Three  Hundred  for  that  errand.  He  gets  admittance 
through  the  locked  and  padlocked  Grates,  through  sentries 
and  ushers,  to  the  Eoyal  Halls. 

The  Court,  male  and  female,  crowds  on  his  passage,  to  read 
their  doom  on  his  face;  which  exhibits,  say  Historians,  a 
mixture  “  of  sorrow,  of  fervor  and  valor,”  singular  to  behold.1 
The  King,  with  Monsieur,  with  Ministers  and  Marshals,  is 
waiting  to  receive  him  :  He  “  is  come,”  in  his  high-flown  chiv¬ 
alrous  way,  “to  offer  his  head  for  the  safety  of  his  Majesty’s.” 
The  two  Municipals  state  the  wish  of  Paris :  four  things,  of 
quite  pacific  tenor.  First,  that  the  honor  of  guarding  his 
sacred  person  be  conferred  on  patriot  National  Guards;  —  say, 
the  Centre  Grenadiers,  who  as  Gardes  Francises  were  wont 
to  have  that  privilege.  Second,  that  provisions  be  got,  if  pos¬ 
sible.  Third,  that  the  Prisons,  all  crowded  with  political  de¬ 
linquents,  may  have  judges  sent  them.  Fourth,  that  it  would 
please  his  Majesty  to  come  and  live  in  Paris.  To  all  which 
four  wishes,  except  the  fourth,  his  Majesty  answers  readily, 
Yes ;  or  indeed  may  almost  say  that  he  has  already  answered 
it.  To  the  fourth  he  can  answer  only,  Yes  or  No ;  would  so 
gladly  answer,  Yes  and  No! — But,  in  any  case,  are  not  their 
dispositions,  thank  Heaven,  so  entirely  pacific  ?  There  is 
time  for  deliberation.  The  brunt  of  the  danger  seems  past ! 

Lafayette  and  D’Estaing  settle  the  watches ;  Centre  Grena¬ 
diers  are  to  take  the  Guard-room  they  of  old  occupied  as 
Gardes  Franchises  ;  —  for  indeed  the  Gardes-du-Corps,  its  late 
ill-advised  occupants,  are  gone  mostly  to  Rambouillet.  That 
is  the  order  of  this  night ;  sufficient  for  the  night  is  the  evil 
thereof.  Whereupon  Lafayette  and  the  two  Municipals,  with 
high-flown  chivalry,  take  their  leave. 

So  brief  has  the  interview  been,  Mounier  and  his  Depu¬ 
tation  were  not  yet  got  up.  So  brief  and  satisfactory.  A 
stone  is  rolled  from  every  heart.  The  fair  Palace  Dames 
publicly  declare  that  this  Lafayette,  detestable  though  he  be, 
is  their  savior  for  once.  Even  the  ancient  vinaigro'as  Tantes 

1  Mimoire  de  M.  le  Comte  de  Lally-Tollendal  (Janvier,  1790),  pp.  161-165. 


266  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

admit  it ;  the  King’s  Aunts,  ancient  Graille  and  Sisterhood, 
known  to  us  of  old.  Queen  Marie- Antoinette  has  been  heard 
often  to  say  the  like.  She  alone,  among  all  women  and  all  men, 
wore  a  face  of  courage,  of  lofty  calmness  and  resolve,  this 
day.  She  alone  saw  clearly  what  she  meant  to  do ;  and  The¬ 
resa’s  Daughter  dares  do  what  she  means,  were  all  France 
threatening  her :  abide  where  her  children  are,  where  her  hus¬ 
band  is. 

Towards  three  in  the  morning  all  things  are  settled:  the 
watches  set,  the  Centre  Grenadiers  put  into  their  old  Guard- 
room,  and  harangued;  the  Swiss,  and  few  remaining  Body¬ 
guards  harangued.  The  wayworn  Paris  Battalions,  consigned 
to  “the  hospitality  of  Versailles,”  lie  dormant  in  spare-beds, 
spare-barracks,  coffee-houses,*  empty  churches.  A  troop  of 
them,  on  their  way  to  the  Church  of  Saint-Louis,  awoke  poor 
Weber,  dreaming  troublous,  in  the  Rue  Sartory.  Weber  has 
had  his  waistcoat-pocket  full  of  balls  all  day ;  “  two  hundred 
balls,  and  two  pears  of  powder”  !  For  waistcoats  were  waist¬ 
coats  then,  and  had  flaps  down  to  mid-thigh.  So  many  balls 
lie  has  had  all  day ;  but  no  opportunity  of  using  them :  lie 
turns  over  now,  execrating  disloyal  bandits;  swears  a  prayer 
or  two,  and  straight  to  sleep  again. 

Finally  the  National  Assembly  is  harangued ;  which,  there¬ 
upon,  on  motion  of  Mirabeau,  discontinues  the  Penal  Code, 
and  dismisses  for  this  night.  Menadism,  Sansculottism  has 
cowered  into  guard-houses,  barracks  of  Flandre,  to  the  light 
of  cheerful  fire ;  failing  that,  to  churches,  office-houses,  sentry- 
boxes,  wheresoever  wretchedness  can  find  a  lair.  The  troub¬ 
lous  Day  has  brawled  itself  to  rest:  no  lives  yet  lost  but 
that  of  one  war-horse.  Insurrectionary  Chaos  lies  slumbering 
round  the  Palace,  like  Ocean  round  a  Diving-bell,  —  no  crevice 
yet  disclosing  itself. 

Deep  sleep  has  fallen  promiscuously  on  the  high  and  on  the 
low ;  suspending  most  things,  even  wrath  and  famine.  Dark¬ 
ness  covers,  the  Earth.  But,  far  on  the  Northeast,  Paris 
flings  up  her  great  yellow  gleam;  far  into  the  wet  black 
Night.  For  all  is  illuminated  there,  as  in  the  old  July 


LAFAYETTE. 


267 


Chap.  IX. 

October  5-6. 

Nights;  the  streets  deserted,  for  alarm  of  war;  the  Munici¬ 
pals  all  wakeful ;  Patrols  hailing,  with  their  hoarse  Wlio-goes. 
There,  as  we  discover,  our  poor  slim  Louison  Ohabray,  her 
poor  nerves  all  fluttered,  is  arriving  about  this  very  hour. 
There  Usher  Maillard  will  arrive,  about  an  hour  hence,  “  to¬ 
wards  four  in  the  morning.’’  They  report,  successively,  to  a 
wakeful  H6tel-de-Yille  what  comfort  they  can ;  which  again, 
with  early  dawn,  large  comfortable  Placards  shall  impart  to 
all  men. 

Lafayette,  in  the  Hotel-de-Noailles,  not  far  from  the  Cha¬ 
teau,  having  now  finished  haranguing,  sits  with  his  Officers 
consulting :  at  five  o’clock  the  unanimous  best  counsel  is,  that 
a  man  so  tost  and  toiled  for  twenty-four  hours  and  more,  fling 
himself  on  a  bed,  and  seek  some  rest. 

Thus,  then,  has  ended  the  First  Act  of  the  Insurrection  of 
Women.  How  it  will  turn  on  the  morrow  ?  The  morrow,  as 
always,  is  with  the  Fates !  But  his  Majesty,  one  may  hope, 
will  consent  to  come  honorably  to  Paris ;  at  all  events,  he  can 
visit  Paris.  Anti-National  Body-guards,  here  and  elsewhere, 
must  take  the  National  Oath;  make  reparation  to  the  Tri¬ 
color;  Flandre  will  swear.  There  may  be  much  swearing; 
much  public  speaking  there  will  infallibly  be :  and  so,  with 
harangues  and  vows,  may  the  matter  in  some  handsome  way 
wind  itself  up. 

Or,  alas,  may  it  not  be  all  otherwise,  imhandsome;  the 
consent  not  honorable,  but  extorted,  ignominious  ?  Bound¬ 
less  Chaos  of  Insurrection  presses  slumbering  round  the 
Palace,  like  Ocean  round  a  Diving-bell;  and  may  penetrate 
at  any  crevice.  Let  but  that  accumulated  insurrectionary 
mass  find  entrance !  Like  the  infinite  inburst  of  water ;  or 
say  rather,  of  inflammable,  self-igniting  fluid;  for  example, 
“  turpentine-and-phosphorus  oil,”  —  fluid  known  to  Spinola 
Santerre ! 


268 


THE  IN SURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  GRAND  ENTRIES. 

The  dull  dawn  of  a  new  morning,  drizzly  and  chill,  had  but 
broken  over  Versailles,  when  it  pleased  Destiny  that  a  Body¬ 
guard  should  look  out  of  window,  on  the  right  wing  of  the 
Chateau,  to  see  what  prospect  there  was  in  Heaven  and  in 
Earth.  Rascality  male  and  female  is  prowling  in  view  of  him. 
His  fasting  stomach  is,  with  good  cause,  sour;  he  perhaps 
cannot  forbear  a  passing  malison  on  them ;  least  of  all  can  he 
forbear  answering  such. 

Ill  words  breed  worse :  till  the  worst  word  come ;  and  then 
the  ill  deed.  Did  the  maledicent  Body-guard,  getting  (as  was 
too  inevitable)  better  malediction  than  he  gave,  load  his 
musketoon,  and  threaten  to  fire ;  nay  actually  fire  ?  Were 
wise  who  wist !  It  stands  asserted ;  to  us  not  credibly.  But 
be  this  as  it  may,  menaced  Rascality,  in  whinnying  scorn,  is 
shaking  at  all  Grates  :  the  fastening  of  one  (some  write,  it  was 
a  chain  merely)  gives  way ;  Rascality  is  in  the  Grand  Court, 
whinnying  louder  still. 

The  maledicent  Body-guard,  more  Body-guards  than  he  do 
now  give  fire ;  a  man’s  arm  is  shattered.  Lecointre  will  de¬ 
pose1  that  “the  Sieur  Cardine,  a  National  Guard  without 
arms,  was  stabbed.”  But  see,  sure  enough,  poor  Jerome 
l’Heritier,  an  unarmed  National  Guard  he  too,  “cabinet-maker, 
a  saddler’s  son,  of  Paris,”  with  the  down  of  youthhood  still  on 
his  chin, — he  reels  death-stricken;  rushes  to  the  pavement, 
scattering  it  with  his  blood  and  brains !  —  Alleleu !  Wilder 
than  Irish  wakes  rises  the  howl ;  of  pity,  of  infinite  revenge. 
In  few  moments,  the  Grate  of.  the  inner  and  inmost  Court, 
which  they  name  Court  of  Marble,  this  too  is  forced,  or  sur¬ 
prised,  and  bursts  open:  the  Court  of  Marble  too  is  over- 
1  Deposition  de  Lecointre  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  111-115). 


chap.  X.  THE  GRAND  ENTRIES.  269 

October  6. 

flowed:  up  the  Grand  Staircase,  up  all  stairs  and  entrances 
rushes  the  living  Deluge !  Deshuttes  and  Varigny,  the  two 
sentry  Body-guards,  are  trodden  down,  are  massacred  with  a 
hundred  pikes.  Women  snatch  their  cutlasses,  or  any  weapon, 
and  storm  in  Menadic :  —  other  women  lift  the  corpse  of  shot 
Jerome  ;  lay  it  down  on  the  Marble  steps ;  there  shall  the 
livid  face  and  smashed  head,  dumb  forever,  speak. 

Woe  now  to  all  Body-guards,  mercy  is  none  for  them  !  Mio- 
mandre  de  Sainte-Marie  pleads  with  soft  words,  on  the  Grand 
Staircase,  “  descending  four  steps  :  ”  —  to  the  roaring  tornado. 
His  comrades  snatch  him  up,  by  the  skirts  and  belts ;  liter¬ 
ally,  from  the  jaws  of  Destruction;  and  slam  to  their  Door. 
This  also  will  stand  few  instants ;  the  panels  shivering  in, 
like  potsherds.  Barricading  serves  not:  fly  fast,  ye  Body¬ 
guards  :  rabid  Insurrection,  like  the  Hell-hound  Chase,  uproar- 
ing  at  your  heels  ! 

The  terror-struck  Body-guards  fly,  bolting  and  barricading ; 
it  follows.  Whitherward  ?  Through  hall  on  hall :  woe,  now ! 
towards  the  Queen’s  Suite  of  Rooms,  in  the  farthest  room  of 
which  the  Queen  is  now  asleep.  Five  sentinels  rush  through 
that  long  Suite ;  they  are  in  the  Anteroom  knocking  loud : 
“  Save  the  Queen !  ”  Trembling  women  fall  at  their  feet  with 
tears  :  are  answered  :  “  Yes,  we  will  die ;  save  ye  the  Queen !  ” 

Tremble  not,  women,  but  haste :  for,  lo,  another  voice  shouts 
far  through  the  outermost  door,  “  Save  the  Queen !  ”  and  the 
door  is  shut.  It  is  brave  Miomandre’s  voice  that  shouts  this 
second  warning.  He  has  stormed  across  imminent  death  to 
do  it ;  fronts  imminent  death,  having  done  it.  Brave  Tardi- 
vet  du  Repaire,  bent  on  the  same  desperate  service,  was  borne 
down  with  pikes ;  his  comrades  hardly  snatched  him  in  again 
alive.  Miomandre  and  Tardivet :  let  the  names  of  these  two 
Body-guards,  as  the  names  of  brave  men  should,  live  long. 

Trembling  Maids-of-Honor,  one  of  whom  from  afar  caught 
glimpse  of  Miomandre  as  well  as  heard  him,  hastily  wrap  the 
Queen;  not  in  robes  of  state.  She  flies  for  her  life,  across 
the  CEil-de-Boeuf ;  against  the  main  door  of  which  too  In¬ 
surrection  batters.  She  is  in  the  King’s  Apartment,  in  the 


270  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  Vir. 

1789. 

King’s  arms;  she  clasps  her  children  amid  a  faithful  few. 
The  Imperial-hearted  bursts  into  mother’s  tears :  “  0  my 
friends,  save  me  and  my  children ;  0  mes  amis,  sauvez-moi  et 
vies  enfans !  ”  The  battering  of  Insurrectionary  axes  clangs 
audible  across  the  (Eil-de-Boeiif.  What  an  hour ! 

Yes,  Friends ;  a  hideous  fearful  hour ;  shameful  alike  to 
Governed  and  Governor;  wherein  Governed  and  Governor 
ignominiously  testify  that  their  relation  is  at  an  end.  Rage, 
which  had  brewed  itself  in  twenty  thousand  hearts  for  the 
last  four-and-twenty  hours,  has  taken  fire :  J erome’s  brained 
corpse  lies  there  as  live  coal.  It  is,  as  we  said,  the  infinite 
Element  bursting  in;  wild-surging  through  all  corridors  and 
conduits. 

Meanwhile  the  poor  Body-guards  have  got  hunted  mostly  into 
the  GSil-de-Boeuf.  They  may  die  there,  at  the  King’s  thresh¬ 
old;  they  can  do  little  to  defend  it.  They  are  heaping 
tabourets  (stools  of  honor),  benches  and  all  movables  against 
the  door;  at  which  the  axe  of  Insurrection  thunders. — But 
did  brave  Miomandre  perish,  then,  at  the  Queen’s  outer  door  ? 
No,  he  was  fractured,  slashed,  lacerated,  left  for  dead;  he  has 
nevertheless  crawled  hither ;  and  shall  live,  honored  of  loyal 
France.  Remark  also,  in  flat  contradiction  to  much  which  has 
been  said  and  sung,  that  Insurrection  did  not  burst  that  door 
he  had  defended  ;  but  hurried  elsewhither,  seeking  new  Body¬ 
guards.1 

Poor  Body-guards,  with  their  Thyestes  Opera-Repast !  Well 
for  them  that  Insurrection  has  only  pikes  and  axes ;  no  right 
sieging-tools  !  It  shakes  and  thunders.  Must  they  all  perish 
miserably,  and  Royalty  with  them  ?  Deshuttes  and  Varigny, 
massacred  at  the  first  inbreak,  have  been  beheaded  in  the 
Marble  Court;  a  sacrifice  to  Jerome’s  manes:  Jourdan  with 
the  tile-beard  did  that  duty  willingly ;  and  asked,  If  there 
were  no  more  ?  Another  captive  they  are  leading  round  the 
corpse,  with  howl-chantings :  may  not  Jourdan  again  tuck  up 
his  sleeves  ? 

And  louder  and  louder  rages  Insurrection  within,  plunder- 

1  Campan,  ii.  75-87. 


chap.  X.  THE  GRAND  ENTRIES.  271 

October  6. 

in g  if  it  cannot  kill ;  louder  and  louder  it  thunders  at  the  (Eil- 
de-Boeuf :  what  can  now  hinder  its  bursting  in  ?  —  On  a  sudden 
it  ceases;  the  battering  has  ceased!  Wild  rushing;  the  cries 
grow  fainter ;  there  is  silence,  or  the  tramp  of  regular  steps ; 
then  a  friendly  knocking:  “ We  are  the  Centre  Grenadiers, 
old  Gardes  Franchises :  Open  to  us,  Messieurs  of  the  Garde- 
du-Corps ;  we  have  not  forgotten  how  you  saved  us  at  Fonte- 
noy  !  ” 1  The  door  is  opened ;  enter  Captain  Gondran  and  the 
Centre  Grenadiers :  there  are  military  embracings ;  there  is 
sudden  deliverance  from  death  into  life. 

Strange  Sons  of  Adam !  It  was  to  “  exterminate  ”  these 
Gardes-du-Corps  that  the  Centre  Grenadiers  left  home :  and 
now  they  have  rushed  to  save  them  from  extermination.  The 
memory  of  common  peril,  of  old  help,  melts  the  rough  heart ; 
bosom  is  clasped  to  bosom,  not  in  war.  The  King  shows  him¬ 
self,  one  moment,  through  the  door  of  his  Apartment,  with : 
“  Do  not  hurt  my  Guards  !  ”  —  “  Soi/ons  freres,  Let  us  be  broth¬ 
ers  !  ”  cries  Captain  Gondran ;  and  again  dashes  off,  with  lev¬ 
elled  bayonets,  to  sweep  the  Palace  clear. 

Now  too  Lafayette,  suddenly  roused,  not  from  sleep  (for 
his  eyes  had  not  yet  closed),  arrives  ;  with  passionate  popular 
eloquence,  with  prompt  military  word  of  command.  National 
Guards,  suddenly  roused,  by  sound  of  trumpet  and  alarm- 
drum,  are  all  arriving.  The  death-melly  ceases  :  the  first  sky- 
lambent  blaze  of  Insurrection  is  got  damped  down ;  it  burns 
now,  if  unextinguished  yet  flameless,  as  charred  coals  do,  and 
not  inextinguishable.  The  King’s  Apartments  are  safe.  Min¬ 
isters,  Officials,  and  even  some  loyal  National  Deputies  are 
assembling  round  their  Majesties.  The  consternation  will, 
with  sobs  and  confusion,  settle  down  gradually,  into  plan  and 
counsel,  better  or  worse. 

But  glance  now,  for  a  moment,  from  the  royal  windows  ! 
A  roaring  sea  of  human  heads,  inundating  both  Courts ;  bil¬ 
lowing  against  all  passages  :  Menadic  women ;  infuriated  men, 
mad  with  revenge,  with  love  of  mischief,  love  of  plunder  ! 
Rascality  has  slipped  its  muzzle ;  and  now  bays,  three-tliroated, 

1  Toulongeon,  i.  144. 


272 


THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

like  the  Dog  of  Erebus.  Fourteen  Body-guards  are  wounded ; 
two  massacred,  and  as  we  saw,  beheaded;  Jourdan  asking, 
“  Was  it  worth  while  to  come  so  far  for  two  ?  ”  Hapless 
Deshuttes  and  Varigny  !  Their  fate  surely  was  sad.  Whirled 
down  so  suddenly  to  the  abyss ;  as  men  are,  suddenly,  by  the 
wide  thunder  of  the  Mountain  Avalanche,  awakened  not  by 
them ,  awakened  far  off  by  others  !  When  the  Chateau  Clock 
last  struck,  they  two  were  pacing  languid,  with  poised  muske- 
toon ;  anxious  mainly  that  the  next  hour  would  strike.  It  has 
struck;  to  them  inaudible.  Their  trunks  lie  mangled:  their 
heads  parade,  “  on  pikes  twelve  feet  long,”  through  the  streets 
of  Versailles ;  and  shall,  about  noon,  reach  the  Barriers  of 
Paris,  —  a  too  ghastly  contradiction  to  the  large  comfortable 
Placards  that  have  been  posted  there ! 

The  other  captive  Body-guard  is  still  circling  the  corpse  of 
Jerome,  amid  Indian  war-whooping ;  bloody  Tilebeard,  with 
tucked  sleeves,  brandishing  his  bloody  axe  ;  when  Gondran 
and  the  Grenadiers  come  in  sight.  “  Comrades,  will  you  see 
a  man  massacred  in  cold  blood  ?  ”  —  “  Off,  butchers  !  ”  answer 
they ;  and  the  poor  Body-guard  is  free.  Busy  runs  Gondran, 
busy  run  Guards  and  Captains  ;  scouring  all  corridors  ;  dis¬ 
persing  Rascality  and  Robbery ;  sweeping  the  Palace  clear. 
The  mangled  carnage  is  removed;  Jerome’s  body  to  the  Town- 
hall,  for  inquest :  the  fire  of  Insurrection  gets  damped,  more 
and  more,  into  measurable,  manageable  heat. 

Transcendent  things  of  all  sorts,  as  in  the  general  outburst 
of  multitudinous  Passion,  are  huddled  together ;  the  ludicrous, 
nay  the  ridiculous,  with  the  horrible.  Far  over  the  billowy 
sea  of  heads,  may  be  seen  Rascality,  caprioling  on  horses  from 
the  Royal  Stud.  The  Spoilers  these  ;  for  Patriotism  is  always 
infected  so,  with  a  proportion  of  mere  thieves  and  scoundrels. 
Gondran  snatched  their  prey  from  them  in  the  Chateau ; 
whereupon  they  hurried  to  the  Stables,  and  took  horse  there. 
But  the  generous  Diomedes’  steeds,  according  to  WTeber,  dis¬ 
dained  such  scoundrel-burden  ;  and,  flinging  up  their  royal 
heels,  did  soon  project  most  of  it,  in  parabolic  curves,  to  a 
distance,  amid  peals  of  laughter  ;  and  were  caught.  Mounted 
National  Guards  secured  the  rest. 


FROM  VERSAILLES. 


273 


Chai\  XI. 
October  6. 


Now  too  is  witnessed  the  touching  last  flicker  of  Etiquette  ; 
which  sinks  not  here,  in  the  Cimmerian  World-wreckage,  with¬ 
out  a  sign ;  as  the  house-cricket  might  still  chirp  in  the  pealing 
of  a  Trump  of  Doom.  “  Monsieur,”  said  some  Master  of  Cere¬ 
monies  (one  hopes  it  might  be  De  Breze),  as  Lafayette,  in  these 
fearful  moments,  was  rushing  towards  the  inner  Royal  Apart¬ 
ments,  “  Monsieur,  le  Hoi  vous  accorde  les  grandes  entrees,  Mon¬ 
sieur,  the  King  grants  you  the  Grand  Entries,”  —  not  finding 
it  convenient  to  refuse  them  ! 1 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FROM  VERSAILLES. 

However,  the  Paris  National  Guard,  wholly  under  arms, 
has  cleared  the  Palace,  and  even  occupies  the  nearer  external 
spaces ;  extruding  miscellaneous  Patriotism,  for  most  part,  into 
the  Grand  Court,  or  even  into  the  Eorecourt. 

The  Body-guards,  you  can  observe,  have  now  of  a  verity 
“  hoisted  the  National  Cockade  :”  for  they  step  forward  to  the 
windows  or  balconies,  hat  aloft  in  hand,  on  each  hat  a  huge 
tricolor  ;  and  fling  over  their  bandoleers  in  sign  of  surrender  ; 
and  shout  Vive  la  Nation .  To  which  how  can  the  generous 
heart  respond  but  with,  Viine  le  Hoi ;  vivent  les  Gardes-du- 
Corps  ?  His  Majesty  himself  has  appeared  with  Lafayette 
on  the  balcony,  and  again  appears  :  Vive  le  Hoi  greets  him 
from  all  throats  ;  but  also  from  some  one  throat  is  heard, 
“  Le  Hoi  a  Paris,  The  King  to  Paris !  ” 

Her  Majesty  too,  on  demand,  shows  herself,  though  there 
is  peril  in  it :  she  steps  out  on  the  balcony,  with  her  little  boy 
and  girl.  “No  children,  Point  d’enfans  !  ”  cry  the  voices.  She 
gently  pushes  back  her  children  ;  and  stands  alone,  her  hands 
serenely  crossed  on  her  breast :  “  Should  I  die,”  she  had  said, 
“  I  will  do  it.”  Such  serenity  of  heroism  has  its  effect. 
Lafayette,  with  ready  wit,  in  his  high-flown  chivalrous  way, 

1  Toulongeon,  i.  App.  120. 

18 


VOL.  III. 


274  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

takes  that  fair  queenly  hand,  and,  reverently  kneeling,  kisses 
it :  thereupon  the  people  do  shout  Vive  la  Heine.  Neverthe¬ 
less,  poor  Weber  “  saw  [or  even  thought  he  saw ;  for  hardly 
the  third  part  of  poor  Weber’s  experiences,  in  such  hysterical 
days,  will  stand  scrutiny]  one  of  these  brigands  level  his 
musket  at  her  Majesty,”  —  with  or  without  intention  to  shoot; 
for  another  of  the  brigands  “  angrily  struck  it  down.” 

So  that  all,  and  the  Queen  herself,  nay  the  very  Captain  of 
the  Body-guards,  have  grown  National !  The  very  Captain 
of  the  Body-guards  steps  out  now  with  Lafayette.  On  the  hat 
of  the  repentant  man  is  an  enormous  tricolor  ;  large  as  a  soup- 
platter  or  sunflower ;  visible  to  the  utmost  Forecourt.  He 
takes  the  National  Oath  with  a  loud  voice,  elevating  his  hat; 
at  which  sight  all  the  army  raise  their  bonnets  on  their  bayo¬ 
nets,  with  shouts.  Sweet  is  reconcilement  to  the  heart  of  man. 
Lafayette  has  sworn  Flandre ;  he  swears  the  remaining  Body¬ 
guards,  down  in  the  Marble  Court ;  the  people  clasp  them  in 
their  arms  :  —  0  my  brothers,  why  would  ye  force  us  to  slay 
you  ?  Behold,  there  is  joy  over  you,  as  over  returning  prodi¬ 
gal  sons  !  —  The  poor  Body-guards,  now  National  and  tricolor, 
exchange  bonnets,  exchange  arms  ;  there  shall  be  peace  and 
fraternity.  And  still  u  Vive  le  Hoi ;  ”  and  also  11  Le  Hoi  a 
Paris”  not  now  from  one  throat,  but  from  all  throats  as  one, 
for  it  is  the  heart’s  wish  of  all  mortals. 

Yes,  The  King  to  Paris :  what  else  ?  Ministers  may  con¬ 
sult,  and  National  Deputies  wag  their  heads  :  but  there  is  now 
no  other  possibility.  You  have  forced  him  to  go  willingly. 
“  At  one  o’clock  !  ”  Lafayette  gives  audible  assurance  to  that 
purpose  ;  and  universal  Insurrection,  with  immeasurable  shout, 
and  a  discharge  of  all  the  fire-arms,  clear  and  rusty,  great  and 
small,  that  it  has,  returns  him  acceptance.  What  a  sound ; 
heard  for  leagues  :  a  doom-peal !  —  That  sound  too  rolls  away ; 
into  the  Silence  of  Ages.  And  the  Chateau  of  Versailles 
stands  ever  since  vacant,  hushed-still ;  its  spacious  Courts 
grass-grown,  responsive  to  the  hoe  of  the  weeder.  Times  and 
generations  roll  on,  in  their  confused  Gulf-current ;  and  build¬ 
ings,  like  builders,  have  their  destiny. 


chap.  XI.  FROM  VERSAILLES.  275 

October  6. 

Till  one  o’clock,  then,  there  will  be  three  parties,  National 
Assembly,  National  Rascality,  National  Royalty,  all  busy 
enough.  Rascality  rejoices ;  women  trim  themselves  with 
tricolor.  Nay  motherly  Paris  has  sent  her  Avengers  suffi¬ 
cient  “  cart-loads  of  loaves  ;  ”  which  are  shouted  over,  which 
are  gratefully  consumed.  The  Avengers,  in  return,  are  search¬ 
ing  for  grain-stores  ;  loading  them  in  fifty  wagons  ;  that  so  a 
National  King,  probable  harbinger  of  all  blessings,  may  be  the 
evident  bringer  of  plenty,  for  one. 

And  thus  has  Sansculottism  made  prisoner  its  King ;  re¬ 
voking  his  parole.  The  Monarchy  has  fallen ;  and  not  so  much 
as  honorably  :  no,  ignominiously ;  with  struggle,  indeed,  oft- 
repeated  ;  but  then  with  unwise  struggle  5  wasting  its  strength 
in  fits  and  paroxysms  ;  at  every  new  paroxysm  foiled  more 
pitifully  than  before.  Thus  Broglie’s  whiff  of  grape-shot, 
which  might  have  been  something,  has  dwindled  to  the  pot- 
valor  of  an  Opera-Repast,  and  0  Richard,  0  mon  Roi !  Which, 
again,  we  shall  see  dwindle  to  a  Favras  Conspiracy,  a  thing  to 
be  settled  by  the  hanging  of  one  Chevalier. 

Poor  Monarchy !  But  what  save  foulest  defeat  can  await 
that  man,  who  wills,  and  yet  wills  not  ?  Apparently  the  King 
either  has  a  right,  assertible  as  such  to  the  death,  before  God 
and  man ;  or  else  he  has  no  right.  Apparently,  the  one  or 
the  other  ;  could  he  but  know  which  !  May  Heaven  pity  him  ! 
Were  Louis  wise,  he  would  this  day  abdicate.  —  Is  it  not 
strange  so  few  Kings  abdicate ;  and  none  yet  heard  of  has 
been  known  to  commit  suicide  ?  Fritz  the  First,  of  Prussia, 
alone  tried  it ;  and  they  cut  the  rope.1 

As  for  the  National  Assembly,  which  decrees  this  morning 
that  it  “  is  inseparable  from  his  Majesty,”  and  will  follow  him 
to  Paris,  there  may  one  thing  be  noted :  its  extreme  want  of 
bodily  health.  After  the  Fourteenth  of  July  there  was  a  cer¬ 
tain  sickliness  observable  among  honorable  Members;  so  many 

demanding  passports,  on  account  of  infirm  health.  But  now, 

* 

1  Calumnious  rumor,  current  long  since,  in  loose  vehicles  ( Edinburgh  Re¬ 
view  on  Me'moires  de  Bastille,  for  example),  concerning  Friedrich  Wilhelm 
and  his  ways,  then  so  mysterious  and  miraculous  to  many ;  —  not  the  least 
truth  in  it !  (Note  o/\1868.) 


276  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

for  these  following  days,  there  is  a  perfect  murrain  :  President 
Mounier,  Lally-Tollendal,  Clermont-Tonnerre,  and  all  Constitu¬ 
tional  Two-Chamber  Royalists  needing  change  of  air ;  as  most 
No-Chamber  Royalists  had  formerly  done. 

For,  in  truth,  it  is  the  second  Emigration  this  that  has  now 
come;  most  extensive  among  Commons  Deputies,  Noblesse, 
Clergy :  so  that  “  to  Switzerland  alone  there  go  sixty  thou¬ 
sand.”  They  will  return  in  the  day  of  accounts !  Yes,  and 
have  hot  welcome.  —  But  Emigration  on  Emigration  is  the  pe¬ 
culiarity  of  France.  One  Emigration  follows  another ;  grounded 
on  reasonable  fear,  unreasonable  hope,  largely  also  on  childish 
pet.  The  highflyers  have  gone  first,  now  the  lower  flyers ; 
and  ever  the  lower  will  go,  down  to  the  crawlers.  Whereby, 
however,  cannot  our  National  Assembly  so  much  the  more 
commodiously  make  the  Constitution ;  your  Two-Chamber  An¬ 
glomaniacs  being  all  safe,  distant  on  foreign  shores  ?  Abbe 
Maury  is  seized  and  sent  back  again:  he,  tough  as  tanned 
leather,  with  eloquent  Captain  Cazales  and  some  others,  will 
stand  it  out  for  another  year. 

But  here,  meanwhile,  the  question  arises :  Was  Philippe 
d’Orleans  seen,  this  day,  “in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  in  gray 
surtout ;  ”  waiting  under  the  wet  sere  foliage,  what  the  day 
might  bring  forth  ?  Alas,  yes,  the  Eidolon  of  him  was,  —  in 
Weber’s  and  other  such  brains.  The  Chatelet  shall  make 
large  inquisition  into  the  matter,  examining  a  hundred  and 
seventy  witnesses,  and  Deputy  Chabroud  publish  his  Report ; 
but  disclose  nothing  farther}  What,  then,  has  caused  these 
two  unparalleled  October  Days.  For  surely  such  dramatic 
exhibition  never  yet  enacted  itself  without  Dramatist  and 
Machinist.  Wooden  Punch  emerges  not,  with  his  domestic 
sorrows,  into  the  light  of  day,  unless  the  wire  be  pulled :  how 
can  human  mobs  ?  Was  it  not  D’ Orleans,  then,  and  Laclos, 
Marquis  Sillery,  Mirabeau  and  the  sons  of  confusion ;  hoping 
to  drive  the  King  to  Metz,  and  gather  the  spoil  ?  Nay  was  it 
not,  quite  contrariwise,  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf,  Body-guard  Colonel 
de  G-uiche,  Minister  Saint-Priest  and  high-flying  Loyalists ; 
hoping  also  to  drive  him  to  Metz,  and  try  it  by  the  sword 
1  Rapport  de  Chabroud  ( Moniteur ,  du  31  Decembre,  1789). 


Chap.  XI.  FROM  VERSAILLES.  277 

October  6. 

of  civil  war  ?  Good  Marquis  Toulongeon,  the  Historian  and 
Deputy,  feels  constrained  to  admit  that  it  was  both.1 

Alas,  my  Friends,  credulous  incredulity  is  a  strange  matter. 
But  when  a  whole  Nation  is  smitten  with  Suspicion,  and  sees 
a  dramatic  miracle  in  the  very  operation  of  the  gastric  juices, 
what  help  is  there  ?  Such  Nation  is  already  a  mere  hypo¬ 
chondriac  bundle  of  diseases ;  as  good  as  changed  into  glass  ; 
atrabiliar,  decadent;  and  will  suffer  crises.  Is  not  Suspicion 
itself  the  one  thing  to  be  suspected,  as  Montaigne  feared  only 
fear  ? 

Now,  however,  the  short  hour  has  struck.  His  Majesty  is 
in  his  carriage,  with  his  Queen,  sister  Elizabeth  and  two  royal 
children.  Not  for  another  hour  can  the  infinite  Procession  get 
marshalled  and  under  way.  The  weather  is  dim  drizzling; 
the  mind  confused;  the  noise  great. 

Processional  marches  not  a  few  our  world  has  seen ;  Roman 
triumphs  and  ovations,  Cabiric  cymbal-beatings,  Royal  prog¬ 
resses,  Irish  funerals ;  but  this  of  the  French  Monarchy 
marching  to  its  bed  remained  to  be  seen.  Miles  long,  and  of 
breadth  losing  itself  in  vagueness,  for  all  the  neighboring 
country  crowds  to  see.  Slow ;  stagnating  along,  like  shoreless 
Lake,  yet  with  a  noise  like  Niagara,  like  Babel  and  Bedlam. 
A  splashing  and  a  tramping ;  a  hurrahing,  uproaring,  musket- 
volleying  ;  —  the  truest  segment  of  Chaos  seen  in  these  latter 
Ages !  Till  slowly  it  disembogue  itself,  in  the  thickening 
dusk,  into  expectant  Paris,  through  a  double  row  of  faces  all 
the  way  from  Passy  to  the  Hdtel-de-Ville. 

Consider  this :  Vanguard  of  National  troops  ;  with  trains  of 
artillery;  of  pikemen  and  pikewomen,  mounted  on  cannons, 
on  carts,  hackney-coaches,  or  on  foot;  —  tripudiating,  in  tri¬ 
color  ribbons  from  head  to  heel ;  loaves  stuck  on  the  points  of 
bayonets,  green  boughs  stuck  in  gun-barrels.2  Next,  as  main- 
march,  “  fifty  cart-loads  of  corn/’  which  have  been  lent,  for 
peace,  from  the  stores  of  Versailles.  Behind  which  follow 
stragglers  of  the  Garde-du-Corps ;  all  humiliated,  in  Grena¬ 
dier  bonnets.  Close  on  these  comes  the  Royal  Carriage  ;  come 
1  Toulongeon,  i.  150.  2  Mercier:  Nouveau  Paris,  in.  21. 


278  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN.  Book  VII. 

1789. 

Royal  Carriages :  for  there  are  a  Hundred  National  Deputies 
too,  among  whom  sits  Mirabeau,  —  his  remarks  not  given. 
Then  finally,  pell-mell,  as  rear-guard,  Flandre,  Swiss,  Hundred 
Swiss,  other  Body-guards,  Brigands,  whosoever  cannot  get 
before.  Between  and  among  all  which  masses  flows  without 
limit  Saint- Antoine  and  the  Menadic  Cohort.  Menadic  espe¬ 
cially  about  the  Royal  Carriage;  tripudiating  there,  covered 
with  tricolor ;  singing  “  allusive  songs ;  ”  pointing  with  one 
hand  to  the  Royal  Carriage,  which  the  allusions  hit,  and 
pointing  to  the  Provision-wagons  with  the  other  hand,  and 
these  words:  “ Courage,  Friends !  We  shall  not  want  bread 
now  we  are  bringing  you  the  Baker,  the  Bakeress  and  Baker’s- 
boy  (le  Boulanger ,  la  Boulangere  et  le  petit  Mitron ).” 1 

The  wet  day  draggles  the  tricolor,  but  the  joy  is  unextin- 
guishable.  Is  not  all  well  now  ?  “  Ah,  Madame,  notre  bonne 

Heine,”  said  some  of  these  Strong-women  some  days  hence, 
“  Ah,  Madame,  our  good  Queen,  don’t  be  a  traitor  any  more 
( ne  soy ez  plus  tr afore),  and  we  will  all  love  you  !”  Poor  Weber 
went  splashing  along,  close  by  the  Royal  Carriage,  with  the 
tear  in  his  eye:  “ their  Majesties  did  me  the  honor,”  or  I 
thought  they  did  it,  “  to  testify,  from  time  to  time,  by  shrug¬ 
ging  of  the  shoulders,  by  looks  directed  to  Heaven,  the  emo¬ 
tions  they  felt.”  Thus,  like  frail  cockle,  floats  the  royal  Life¬ 
boat,  helmless,  on  black  deluges  of  Rascality. 

Mercier,  in  his  loose  way,  estimates  the  Procession  and  assist¬ 
ants  at  two  hundred  thousand.  He  says  it  was  one  boundless 
inarticulate  Haha;  —  transcendent  World-Laughter;  compara¬ 
ble  to  the  Saturnalia  of  the  Ancients.  Why  not  ?  Here  too, 
as  we  said,  is  Human  Nature  once  more  human ;  shudder  at  it 
whoso  is  of  shuddering  humor ;  yet,  behold,  it  is  human.  It 
has  “ swallowed  all  formulas;”  it  tripudiates  even  so.  For 
which  reason  they  that  collect  Vases  and  Antiques,  with  fig¬ 
ures  of  Dancing  Bacchantes  “in  wild  and  all  but  impossible 
positions,”  may  look  with  some  interest  on  it. 

Thus,  however,  has  the  slow-moving  Chaos,  or  modern  Satur¬ 
nalia  of  the  Ancients,  reached  the  Barrier ;  and  must  halt,  to 
1  Toulongeon,  i.  134-161  ;  Deux  Amis,  iii.  c.  9;  &c.  &c. 


279 


Chap.  XI.  FROM  VERSAILLES. 

October  6. 

be  harangued  by  Mayor  Bailly.  Thereafter  it  has  to  lumber 
along,  between  the  double  row  of  faces,  in  the  transcendent 
heaven-lashing  Haha ;  two  hours  longer,  towards  the  H6tel-de- 
Ville.  Then  again  to  be  harangued  there,  by  several  persons ; 
by  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery  among  others ;  Moreau  of  the  three 
thousand  orders,  now  National  Deputy  for  St.  Domingo.  To 
all  which  poor  Louis,  “  who  seemed  to  experience  a  slight  emo¬ 
tion  ”  on  entering  this  Town-hall,  can  answer  only  that  he 
“  comes  with  pleasure,  with  confidence  among  his  people.” 
Mayor  Bailly,  in  reporting  it,  forgets  “  confidence :  ”  and  the 
poor  Queen  says  eagerly:  “Add,  with  confidence.”  —  “Mes¬ 
sieurs,”  rejoins  Mayor  Bailly,  “you  are  happier  than  if  I  had 
not  forgotten.” 

Finally,  the  King  is  shown  on  an  upper  balcony,  by  torch¬ 
light,  with  a  huge  tricolor  in  his  hat:  “and  all  the  people,” 
says  Weber,  “grasped  one  another’s  hand;”  —  thinking  now 
surely  the  New  Era  was  born.  Hardly  till  eleven  at  night  can 
Royalty  get  to  its  vacant,  long-deserted  Palace  of  the  Tuile- 
ries ;  to  lodge  there,  somewhat  in  strolling-player  fashion. 
It  is  Tuesday  the  6th  of  October,  1789. 

Poor  Louis  has  two  other  Paris  Processions  to  make :  one 
ludicrous-ignominious  like  this ;  the  other  not  ludicrous  nor 
ignominious,  but  serious,  nay  sublime. 


THE  CONSTITUTION. 


BOOK  VIII. 

% 

THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

■  ■» 

CHAPTER  I. 

IN  THE  TUIIiERIES. 

The  victim  having  once  got  his  stroke-of-grace,  the  catas¬ 
trophe  can  be  considered  as  almost  come.  There  is  small 
interest  now  in  watching  his  long  low  moans :  notable  only 
are  his  sharper  agonies,  what  convulsive  struggles  he  may 
make  to  cast  the  torture  off  from  him  ;  and  then  finally  the 
last  departure  of  life  itself,  and  how  he  lies  extinct  and  ended, 
either  wrapt  like  Caesar  in  decorous  mantle-folds,  or  unseemly 
sunk  together,  like  one  that  had  not  the  force  even  to  die. 

Was  French  Royalty,  when  wrenched  forth  from  its  tapes¬ 
tries  in  that  fashion,  on  that  Sixth  of  October,  1789,  such 
a  victim  ?  Universal  France,  and  Royal  Proclamation  to  all 
the  Provinces,  answers  anxiously,  No.  Nevertheless  one  may 
fear  the  worst.  Royalty  was  beforehand  so  decrepit,  mori¬ 
bund,  there  is  little  life  in  it  to  heal  an  injury.  How  much 
of  its  strength,  which  was  of  the  imagination  merely,  has 
fled  ;  Rascality  having  looked  plainly  in  the  King’s  face,  and 
not  died !  When  the  assembled  crows  can  pluck  up  their 
scarecrow,  and  say  to  it,  Here  shalt  thou  stand  and  not  there : 
and  can  treat  with  it,  and  make  it,  from  an  infinite,  a  quite 
finite  Constitutional  scarecrow,  —  what  is  to  be  looked  for  ? 
Not  in  the  finite  Constitutional  scarecrow,  but  in  what  still 


Chap.  I.  IN  THE  TUILERIES.  281 

October. 

unmeasured,  infinite-seeming  force  may  rally  round  it,  is  there 
thenceforth  any  hope.  For  it  is  most  true  that  all  available 
Authority  is  mystic  in  its  conditions,  and  comes  “  by  the  grace 
of  God.” 

Cheerfuler  than  watching  the  death-struggles  of  Boyalism 
will  it  be  to  watch  the  growth  and  gambollings  of  Sanscu- 
lottism ;  for,  in  human  things,  especially  in  human  society, 
all  death  is  but  a  death-birth :  thus  if  the  sceptre  is  departing 
from  Louis,  it  is  only  that,  in  other  forms,  other  sceptres,  were 
it  even  pike-sceptres,  may  bear  sway.  In  a  prurient  element, 
rich  with  nutritive  influences,  we  shall  find  that  Sansculottism 
grows  lustily,  and  even  frisks  in  not  ungraceful  sport :  as 
indeed  most  young  creatures  are  sportful ;  nay,  may  it  not  be 
noted  further,  that  as  the  grown  cat,  and  cat  species  generally, 
is  the  cruelest  thing  known,  so  the  merriest  is  precisely  the 
kitten,  or  growing  cat  ? 

But  fancy  the  Boyal  Family  risen  from  its  truckle-beds  on 
the  morrow  of  that  mad  day  :  fancy  the  Municipal  inquiry, 
u  How  would  your  Majesty  please  to  lodge  ?  ”  —  and  then  that 
the  King’s  rough  answer,  “  Each  may  lodge  as  he  can,  I  am 
well  enough,”  is  congeed  and  bowed  away,  in  expressive  grins, 
by  the  Town-hall  Functionaries,  with  obsequious  upholsterers 
at  their  back;  and  how  the  Chateau  of  the  Tuileries  is 
repainted,  regarnished  into  a  golden  Boyal  Besidence  ;  and 
Lafayette  with  his  blue  National  Guards  lies  encompassing 
it,  as  blue  Neptune  (in  the  language  of  poets)  does  an  island, 
wooingly.  Thither  may  the  wrecks  of  rehabilitated  Loyalty 
gather,  if  it  will  become  Constitutional ;  for  Constitutionalism 
thinks  no  evil ;  Sansculottism  itself  rejoices  in  the  King’s 
countenance.  The  rubbish  of  a  Menadic  Insurrection,  as  in 
this  ever-kindly  world  all  rubbish  can  and  must  be,  is  swept 
aside  ;  and  so  again,  on  clear  arena,  under  new  conditions, 
with  something  even  of  a  new  stateliness,  we  begin  a  new 
course  of  action. 

Arthur  Young  has  witnessed  the  strangest  scene :  Majesty 
walking  unattended  in  the  Tuileries  Gardens  ;  and  miscella- 

V 

neous  tricolor  crowds,  who  cheer  it,  and  reverently  make  way 


282  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Boo*  VIII. 

1789. 

for  it :  the  very  Queen  commands  at  lowest  respectful  silence, 
regretful  avoidance.1  Simple  ducks,  in  those  royal  waters, 
quackle  for  crumbs  from  young  royal  fingers :  the  little  Dau¬ 
phin  has  a  little  railed  garden,  where  he  is  seen  delving,  with 
ruddy  cheeks  and  flaxen  curled  hair ;  also  a  little  hutch  to 
put  his  tools  in,  and  screen  himself  against  showers.  What 
peaceable  simplicity !  Is  it  peace  of  a  Father  restored  to  his 
children  ?  Or  of  a  Taskmaster  who  has  lost  his  whip  ?  La¬ 
fayette  and  the  Municipality  and  universal  Constitutionalism 
assert  the  former,  and  do  what  is  in  them  to  realize  it.  Such 
Patriotism  as  snarls  dangerously  and  shows  teeth,  Patrollotism 
shall  suppress  ;  or  far  better,  Eoyalty  shall  soothe  down  the 
angry  hair  of  it,  by  gentle  pattings ;  and,  most  effectual  of 
all,  by  fuller  diet.  Yes,  not  only  shall  Paris  be  fed,  but  the 
King’s  hand  be  seen  in  that  work.  The  household  goods  of 
the  Poor  shall,  up  to  a  certain  amount,  by  royal  bounty,  be 
disengaged  from  pawn,  and  that  insatiable  Mont  de  Piete  shall 
disgorge ;  rides  in  the  city  with  their  Vive-le-Boi  need  not  fail : 
and  so,  by  substance  and  show,  shall  Royalty,  if  man’s  art  can 
popularize  it,  be  popularized.2 

Or,  alas,  is  it  neither  restored  Father  nor  diswhipped  Task¬ 
master  that  walks  there ;  but  an  anomalous  complex  of  both 
these,  and  of  innumerable  other  heterogeneities :  reducible  to 
no  rubric,  if  not  to  this  newly  devised  one :  King  Louis  Re¬ 
storer  of  French  Liberty  ?  Man  indeed,  and  King  Louis  like 
other  men,  lives  in  this  world  to  make  rule  out  of  the  ruleless ; 
by  his  living  energy,  he  shall  force  the  absurd  itself  to  become 
less  absurd.  But  then  if  there  be  no  living  energy  ;  living  pas¬ 
sivity  only  ?  King  Serpent,  hurled  into  its  unexpected  watery 
dominion,  did  at  least  bite,  and  assert  credibly  that  he  w~as 
there  :  but  as  for  the  poor  King  Log,  tumbled  hither  and 
thither  as  thousand-fold  chance  and  other  will  than  his  might 
direct,  how  happy  for  him  that  he  was  indeed  wooden ;  and, 
doing  nothing,  could  also  see  and  suffer  nothing!  It  is  a 
distracted  business. 

For  his  French  Majesty,  meanwhile,  one  of  the  worst  things 
is,  that  he  can  get  no  hunting.  Alas,  no  hunting  henceforth  $ 
1  Arthur  Young’s  Travels ,  i.  264-280.  2  Deux  Amis ,  iii.  c.  10. 


283 


Chap.  I.  IN  THE  TUILERIES. 

October. 

only  a  fatal  being-hunted !  Scarcely,  in  the  next  June  weeks, 
shall  he  taste  again  the  joys  of  the  game-destroyer ;  in  next 
June,  and  never  more.  He  sends  for  his  smith-tools ;  gives, 
in  the  course  of  the  day,  official  or  ceremonial  business  being 
ended,  u  a  few  strokes  of  the  file,  quelques  coups  de  lime.”  1 
Innocent  brother  mortal,  why  wert  thou  not  an  obscure  sub¬ 
stantial  maker  of  locks;  but  doomed  in  that  other  far-seen 
craft,  to  be  a  maker  only  of  world-follies,  unrealities  ;  things 
self-destructive,  which  no  mortal  hammering  could  rivet  into 
coherence  ! 

Poor  Louis  is  not  without  insight,  nor  even  without  the  ele¬ 
ments  of  will ;  some  sharpness  of  temper,  spurting  at  times 
from  a  stagnating  character.  If  harmless  inertness  could 
save  him,  it  were  well ;  but  he  will  slumber  and  painfully 
dream,  and  to  do  aught  is  not  given  him.  Royalist  Antiqua¬ 
rians  still  show  the  rooms  where  Majesty  and  suite,  in  these 
extraordinary  circumstances,  had  their  lodging.  Here  sat  the 
Queen;  reading, * — for  she  had  her  library  brought  hither, 
though  the  King  refused  his ;  taking  vehement  counsel  of  the 
vehement  uncounselled;  sorrowing  over  altered  times;  yet 
with  sure  hope  of  better :  in  her  young  rosy  Boy  has  she  not 
the  living  emblem  of  hope  ?  It  is  a  murky,  working  sky ; 
yet  with  golden  gleams  —  of  dawn,  or  of  deeper  meteoric 
night  ?  Here  again  this  chamber,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
main  entrance,  was  the  King’s :  here  his  Majesty  breakfasted, 
and  did  official  work ;  here  daily  after  breakfast  he  received 
*  the  Queen ;  sometimes  in  pathetic  friendliness  ;  sometimes  in 
human  sulkiness,  for  flesh  is  weak ;  and  when  questioned 
about  business,  would  answer :  u  Madame,  your  business  is 
with  the  children.”  Kay,  Sire,  were  it  not  better  you,  your 
Majesty’s  self,  took  the  children  ?  So  asks  impartial  His¬ 
tory  ;  scornful  that  the  thicker  vessel  was  not  also  the 
stronger ;  pity-struck  for  the  porcelain-clay  of  humanity  rather 
than  for  the  tile-clay,  —  though  indeed  both  were  broken  ! 

So,  however,  in  this  Medicean  Tuileries,  shall  the  French 
King  and  Queen  now  sit  for  one-and-forty  months  ;  and  see  a 
wild-fermenting  France  work  out  its  own  destiny,  and  theirs. 

1  Le  Chateau  des  Tuileries,  ou  recit,  frc.,  par  Roussel  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iv.  195-219). 


284 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  YIII. 
1789. 


Months  bleak,  ungenial,  of  rapid  vicissitude ;  yet  with  a  mild 
pale  splendor,  here  and  there  :  as  of  an  April  that  were  lead¬ 
ing  to  leafiest  Summer;  as  of  an  October  that  led  only  to 
everlasting  Frost.  Medicean  Tuileries,  how  changed  since  it 
was  a  peaceful  Tile-field  !  Or  is  the  ground  itself  fate-stricken, 
accursed ;  an  Atreus’  Palace  ;  for  that  Louvre  window  is  still 
nigh,  out  of  which  a  Capet,  whipt  of  the  Furies,  fired  his 
signal  of  the  Saint  Bartholomew  !  Dark  is  the  way  of  the 
Eternal  as  mirrored  in  this  world  of  Time  :  God’s  way  is  in 
the  sea,  and  His  path  in  the  great  deep. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANAGE. 

To  believing  Patriots,  however,  it  is  now  cltear  that  the  Con¬ 
stitution  will  march,  marcher ,  —  had  it  once  legs  to  stand  on. 
Quick,  then,  ye  Patriots,  bestir  yourselves,  and  make  it ;  shape 
legs  for  it !  In  the  Archer  eche,  or  Archbishop’s  Palace,  his 
Grace  himself  having  fled ;  and  afterwards  in  the  Riding-hall, 
named  Manege,  close  on  the  Tuileries  :  there  does  a  National 
Assembly  apply  itself  to  the  miraculous  work.  Successfully, 
had  there  been  any  heaven-scaling  Prometheus  among  them  ; 
not  successfully,  since  there  was  none  !  There,  in  noisy  debate, 
for  the  sessions  are  occasionally  “  scandalous,”  and  as  many  as 
three  speakers  have  been  seen  in  the  Tribune  at  once,  —  let 
us  continue  to  fancy  it  wearing  the  slow  months. 

Tough,  dogmatic,  long  of  wind  is  Abbe  Maury :  Ciceronian 
pathetic  is  Cazales.  Keen-trenchant,  on  the  other  side,  glitters 
a  young  Barnave ;  abhorrent  of  sophistry ;  shearing,  like  keen 
Damascus  sabre,  all  sophistry  asunder,  —  reckless  what  else 
he  shear  with  it.  Simple  seemest  thou,  0  solid  Dutch-built 
Petion  ;  if  solid,  surely  dull.  Nor  life-giving  is  that  tone  of 
thine,  livelier  polemical  Rabaut.  With  ineffable  serenity  sniffs 
gfeat  Sieyes,  aloft,  alone ;  his  Constitution  ye  may  babble 
over,  ye  may  mar,  but  can  by  no  possibility  mend  :  is  not 


CHAP.  II.  IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANEGE.  285 

Oct.-Nov. 

Polity  a  science  he  has  exhausted  ?  Cool,  slow,  two  military 
Lameths  are  visible,  with  their  quality  sneer,  or  demi-sneer ; 
they  shall  gallantly  refund  their  Mother’s  Pension,  when  the 
Red  Book  is  produced ;  gallantly  be  wounded  in  duels.  A 
Marquis  Toulongeon,  whose  Pen  we  yet  thank,  sits  there ;  in 
stoical  meditative  humor,  oftenest  silent,  accepts  what  Destiny 
will  send.  Thouret  and  Parlementary  Duport  produce  moun¬ 
tains  of  Reformed  Law ;  liberal,  Anglomaniac ;  available  and 
unavailable.  Mortals  rise  and  fall.  Shall  goose  Gobel,  for 
example,  —  or  Gobel,  for  he  is  of  Strasburg  German  breed,  — 
be  a  Constitutional  Archbishop  ? 

Alone  of  all  men  there,  Mirabeau  may  begin  to  discern 
clearly  whither  all  this  is  tending.  Patriotism,  accordingly, 
regrets  that  his  zeal  seems  to  be  getting  cool.  In  that  famed 
Pentecost-Night  of  the  Fourth  of  August,  when  new  Faith 
rose  suddenly  into  miraculous  fire,  and  old  Feudality  was 
burnt  up,  men  remarked  that  Mirabeau  took  no  hand  in  it ; 
that,  in  fact,  he  luckily  happened  to  be  absent.  But  did  he 
not  defend  the  Veto,  nay  Veto  Absolu  ;  and  tell  vehement  Bar- 
nave  that  six  hundred  irresponsible  senators  would  make  of 
all  tyrannies  the  insupportablest  ?  Again,  how  anxious  was 
he  that  the  King’s  Ministers  should  have  seat  and  voice  in 
the  National  Assembly ;  —  doubtless  with  an  eye  to  being 
Minister  himself !  Whereupon  the  National  Assembly  decides, 
what  is  very  momentous,  that  no  Deputy  shall  be  Minister ; 
he,  in  his  haughty  stormful  manner,  advising  us  to  make  it, 
u  no  Deputy  called  Mirabeau.”  1  A  man  of  perhaps  inveterate 
Feudalisms  ;  of  stratagems  ;  too  often  visible  leanings  towards 
the  Royalist  side :  a  man  suspect ;  whom  Patriotism  will  un¬ 
mask  !  Thus,  in  these  June  days,  when  the  question,  Who 
shall  have  right  to  declare  war?  comes  on,  you  hear  hoarse 
Hawkers  sound  dolefully  through  the  streets,  “  Grand  Treason 
of  Count  Mirabeau,  price  only  one  sou ;  ”  —  because  he  pleads 
that  it  shall  be  not  the  Assembly,  but  the  King !  Pleads  ;  nay 
prevails :  for  in  spite  of  the  hoarse  Hawkers,  and  an  endless 
Populace  raised  by  them  to  the  pitch  even  of  “  Lanterne ,”  he 
mounts  the  Tribune  next  day ;  grim-resolute  ;  murmuring  aside 
1  Moniteur,  Nos.  65,  86  (29th  September,  7th  November,  1789). 


286  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

to  his  friends  that  speak  of  danger  :  “  I  know  it :  I  must  come 
hence  either  in  triumph,  or  else  tom  in  fragments :  ”  and  it 
was  in  triumph  that  he  came. 

A  man  stout  of  heart ;  whose  popularity  is  not  of  the  popu¬ 
lace,  u  pas  populaciere  ;  ”  whom  no  clamor  of  unwashed  mobs 
without  doors,  or  of  washed  mobs  within,  can  scare  from  his 
way !  Dumont  remembers  hearing  him  deliver  a  Report  on 
Marseilles  ;  “  every  word  was  interrupted  on  the  part  of  the 
Cote  Droit  by  abusive  epithets ;  calumniator,  liar,  assassin, 
scoundrel  ( scelerat )  :  Mirabeau  pauses  a  moment,  and,  in  a 
honeyed  tone,  addressing  the  most  furious,  says  :  ‘  I  wait, 
Messieurs,  till  these  amenities  be  exhausted.’  ” 1  A  man  enig¬ 
matic,  difficult  to  unmask !  For  example,  whence  comes  his 
money  ?  Can  the  profit  of  a  Newspaper,  sorely  eaten  into  by 
Dame  Le  Jay ;  can  this,  and  the  eighteen  francs  a  day  your 
National  Deputy  has,  be  supposed  equal  to  this  expenditure  ? 
House  in  the  Chaussee  d’Antin ;  Country-house  at  Argenteuil ; 
splendors,  sumptuosities,  orgies  ;  —  living  as  if  he  had  a  mint ! 
All  saloons,  barred  against  Adventurer  Mirabeau,  are  flung 
wide  open  to  King  Mirabeau,  the  cynosure  of  Europe,  whom 
female  France  flutters  to  behold,  —  though  the  Man  Mirabeau 
is  one  and  the  same.  As  for  money,  one  may  conjecture  that 
Royalism  furnishes  it ;  which  if  Royalism  do,  will  not  the 
same  be  welcome,  as  money  always  is  to  him  ? 

u  Sold,”  whatever  Patriotism  thinks,  he  cannot  readily  be  : 
the  spiritual  fire  which  is  in  that  man ;  which  shining  through 
such  confusions  is  nevertheless  Conviction,  and  makes  him 
strong,  and  without  which  he  had  no  strength,  —  is  not  buy¬ 
able  nor  salable ;  in  such  transference  of  barter,  it  would 
vanish  and  not  be.  Perhaps  “  paid  and  not  sold,  paye  pas 
vendu :  ”  as  poor  Rivarol,  in  the  unhappier  converse  way,  calls 
himself  “  sold  and  not  paid ”  !  'A  man  travelling,  comet-like, 
in  splendor  and  nebulosity,  his  wild  way;  whom  telescopic 
Patriotism  may  long  watch,  but,  without  higher  mathematics, 
will  not  make  out.  A  questionable,  most  blamable  man ;  yet 
to  us  the  far  notablest  of  all.  With  rich  munificence,  as  we 
often  say,  in  a  most  blinkard,  bespectacled,  logic-chopping 

1  Dumont,  Souvenirs,  p.  278. 


Chap.  II.  IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANEGE.  287 

Dec.  1789. 

generation,  Nature  lias  gifted  this  man  with  an  eye.  Welcome 
is  his  word,  there  where  he  speaks  and  works  5  and  growing 
ever  welcomer ;  for  it  alone  goes  to  the  heart  of  the  business  : 
logical  cobwebbery  shrinks  itself  together;  and  thou  seest  a 
thing,  how  it  is,  how  it  may  be  worked  with. 

Unhappily  our  National  Assembly  has  much  to  do  :  a  Trance 
to  regenerate ;  and  France  is  short  of  so  many  requisites,  short 
even  of  cash.  These  same  Finances  give  trouble  enough; 
no  choking  of  the  Deficit ;  which  gapes  ever,  Give,  give !  To 
appease  the  Deficit  we  venture  on  a  hazardous  step,  sale  of 
the  Clergy’s  Lands  and  superfluous  Edifices ;  most  hazardous. 
Nay,  given  the  sale,  who  is  to  buy  them,  ready  money  having 
fled?  Wherefore,  on  the  19th  day  of  December,  a  paper- 
money  of  “  Assignats ,”  of  Bonds  secured,  or  assigned,  on  that 
Clerico-National  Property,  and  unquestionable  at  least  in  pay¬ 
ment  of  that,  —  is  decreed :  the  first  of  a  long  series  of  like 
financial  performances,  which  shall  astonish  mankind.  So 
that  now,  while  old  rags  last,  there  shall  be  no  lack  of  circu¬ 
lating  medium :  whether  of  commodities  to  circulate  thereon, 
is  another  question.  But,  after  all,  does  not  this  Assignat 
business  speak  volumes  for  modern  science  ?  Bankruptcy, 
we  may  say,  was  come,  as  the  end  of  all  Delusions  needs 
must  come:  yet  how  gently,  in  softening  diffusion,  in  mild 
succession,  was  it  hereby  made  to  fall ;  —  like  no  all-destroying 
avalanche ;  like  gentle  showers  of  a  powdery  impalpable  snow, 
shower  after  shower,  till  all  was  indeed  buried,  and  yet  little 
was  destroyed  that  could  not  be  replaced,  be  dispensed  with ! 
To  such  length  has  modern  machinery  reached.  Bankruptcy, 
we  said,  was  great ;  but  indeed  Money  itself  is  a  standing 
miracle. 

On  the  whole,  it  is  a  matter  of  endless  difficulty,  that  of  the 
Clergy.  Clerical  property  may  be  made  the  Nation’s,  and  the 
Clergy  hired  servants  of  the  State ;  but  if  so,  is  it  not  an 
altered  Church  ?  Adjustment  enough,  of  the  most  confused 
sort,  has  become  unavoidable.  Old  landmarks,  in  any  sense, 
avail  not  in  a  new  France.  Nay  literally,  the  very  Ground 
is  new  divided ;  your  old  parti-colored  Provinces  become  new 
uniform  Departments  Eighty-three  in  number;  —  whereby,  as 


288  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

in  some  sudden  shifting  of  the  Earth’s  axis,  no  mortal  knows 
his  new  latitude  at  once.  The  Twelve  old  Parlements  too,, 
what  is  to  be  done  with  them  ?  The  old  Parlements  are 
declared  to  be  all  u  in  permanent  vacation,”  —  till  once  the 
new  equal-justice,  of  Departmental  Courts,  National  Appeal- 
Court,  of  elective  Justices,  Justices  of  Peace,  and  other 
Thouret-and-Duport  apparatus  be  got  ready.  They  have  to 
sit  there,  these  old  Parlements,  uneasily  waiting ;  as  it  were, 
with  the  rope  round  their  neck ;  crying  as  they  can,  Is  there 
none  to  deliver  us  ?  But  happily  the  answer  being,  None ,  none, 
they  are  a  manageable  class,  these  Parlements.  They  can  be 
bullied,  even,  into  silence ;  the  Paris  Parlement,  wiser  than 
most,  has  never  whimpered.  They  will  and  must  sit  there ; 
in  such  vacation  as  is  fit;  their  Chamber' of  Vacation  dis¬ 
tributes  in  the  interim  what  little  justice  is  going.  With  the 
rope  round  their  neck,  their  destiny  may  be  succinct !  On  the 
13th  of  November,  1790,  Mayor  Bailly  shall  walk  to  the  Palais 
de  Justice,  few  even  heeding  him;  and  with  municipal  seal- 
stamp  and  a  little  hot  wax,  seal  up  the  Parlementary  Paper- 
rooms, —  and  the  dread  Parlement  of  Paris  pass  away,  into 
Chaos,  gently  as  does  a  Dream !  So  shall  the  Parlements 
perish,  succinctly ;  and  innumerable  eyes  be  dry. 

Not  so  the  Clergy.  For,  granting  even  that  Beligion  were 
dead;  that  it  had  died,  half-centuries  ago,  with  unutterable 
Dubois  ;  or  emigrated  lately  to  Alsace,  with  Necklace-Cardinal 
Rohan ;  or  that  it  now  walkedqas  goblin  revenant ,  with  Bishop 
Talleyrand  of  Autun ;  yet  does  not  the  Shadow  of  Religion, 
the  Cant  of  Religion,  still  linger  ?  The  Clergy  have  means 
and  material :  means,  of  number,  organization,  social  weight ; 
a  material,  at  lowest,  of  public  ignorance,  known  to  be  the 
mother  of  devotion.  Nay  withal,  is  it  incredible  that  there 
might,  in  simple  hearts,  latent  here  and  there  like  gold-grains 
in  the  mud-beach,  still  dwell  some  real  Faith  in  God,  of  so 
singular  and  tenacious  a  sort  that  even  a  Maury  or  a  Talley¬ 
rand  could  still  be  the  symbol  for  it?  —  Enough,  the  Clergy 
has  strength,  the  Clergy  has  craft  and  indignation.  It  is  a 
most  fatal  business  this  of  the  Clergy.  A  weltering  hydracoil, 
which  the  National  Assembly  has  stirred  up  about  its  ears ; 


289 


Chap.  II.  IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANEGE. 

1789-90. 

hissing,  stinging ;  which  cannot  be  appeased,  alive  ;  which 
cannot  be  trampled  dead  !  Fatal,  from  first  to  last !  Scarcely 
after  fifteen  months’  debating,  can  a  Civil  Constitution  of  the 
Clergy  be  so  much  as  got  to  paper ;  and  then  for  getting  it  into 
reality  ?  Alas,  such  Civil  Constitution  is  but  an  agreement  to 
disagree.  It  divides  France  from  end  to  end,  with  a  new  split, 
infinitely  complicating  all  the  other  splits  :  —  Catholicism,  what 
of  it  there  is  left,  with  the  Cant  of  Catholicism,  raging  on  the 
one  side,  and  sceptic  Heathenism  on  the  other ;  both,  by  contra¬ 
diction,  waxing  fanatic.  What  endless  jarring,  of  Eefractory 
hated  Priests,  and  Constitutional  despised  ones ;  of  tender 
consciences,  like  the  King’s,  and  consciences  hot-seared,  like 
certain  of  his  People’s :  the  whole  to  end  in  Feasts  of  Reason 
and  a  War  of  La  Vendee  !  So  deep-seated  is  Religion  in  the 
heart  of  man,  and  holds  of  all  infinite  passions.  If  the  dead 
echo  of  it  still  did  so  much,  what  could  not  the  living  voice 
of  it  once  do  ? 

Finance  and  Constitution,  Law  and  Gospel :  this  surely  were 
work  enough ;  yet  this  is  not  all.  In  fact,  the  Ministry,  and 
Keeker  himself,  whom  a  brass  inscription,  “  fastened  by  the 
people  over  his  door-lintel,”  testifies  to  be  the  “  Ministre  adore  f 
are  dwindling  into  clearer  and  clearer  nullity.  Execution  or 
legislation,  arrangement  or  detail,  from  their  nerveless  fingers 
all  drops  undone  ;  all  lights  at  last  on  the  toiled  shoulders 
of  an  august  Representative  Body.  Heavy-laden  National  As¬ 
sembly  !  It  has  to  hear  of  innumerable  fresh  revolts,  Brigand 
expeditions ;  of  Chateaus  in  the  West,  especially  of  Charter- 
chests,  Chartiers ,  set  on  fire ;  for  there  too  the  overloaded  Ass 
frightfully  recalcitrates.  Of  Cities  in  the  South  full  of  heats 
and  jealousies ;  which  will  end  in  crossed  sabres,  Marseilles 
against  Toulon,  and  Carpentras  beleaguered  by  Avignon;  — 
of  so  much  Royalist  collision  in  a  career  of  Freedom ;  nay  of 
Patriot  collision,  which  a  mere  difference  of  velocity  will  bring 
about !  Of  a  Jourdan  Coup-tete,  who  has  skulked  thitherward, 
to  those  southern  regions,  from  the  claws  of  the  Chatelet ;  and 
will  raise  whole  scoundrel  regiments. 

Also  it  has  to  hear  of  Royalist  Camp  of  Jales :  Jales  moun¬ 
tain-girdled  Plain,  amid  the  rocks  of  the  Cevennes;  whence 

19 


VOL.  III. 


290  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

Koyalism,  as  is  feared  and  hoped,  may  dash  down,  like  a 
mountain  deluge,  and  submerge  France !  A  singular  thing 
this  Camp  of  Jales;  existing  mostly  on  paper.  For  the  Sol¬ 
diers  at  Jales,  being  peasants  or  National  Guards,  were  in 
heart  sworn  Sansculottes ;  and  all  that  the  Royalist  Captains 
could  do,  was,  with  false  words,  to  keep  them,  or  rather  keep 
the  report  of  them,  drawn  up  there,  visible  to  all  imagina¬ 
tions,  for  a  terror  and  a  sign,  —  if  peradventure  France  might 
be  reconquered  by  theatrical  machinery,  by  the  picture  of  a 
Royalist  Army  done  to  the  life  ! 1  Not  till  the  third  summer 
was  this  portent,  burning  out  by  fits  and  then  fading,  got 
finally  extinguished ;  was  the  old  Castle  of  Jales,  no  Camp 
being  visible  to  the  bodily  eye,  got  blown  asunder  by  some 
National  Guards. 

Also  it  has  to  hear  not  only  of  Brissot  and  his  Friends  of  the 
Blacks ,  but  by  and  by  of  a  whole  St.  Domingo  blazing  sky¬ 
ward  ;  blazing  in  literal  fire,  and  in  far  worse  metaphorical ; 
beaconing  the  nightly  main.  Also  of  the  shipping  interest, 
and  the  landed  interest,  and  all  manner  of  interests,  reduced 
to  distress.  Of  Industry  everywhere  manacled,  bewildered ; 
and  only  Rebellion  thriving.  Of  sub-officers,  soldiers  and  sail¬ 
ors  in  mutiny  by  land  and  water.  Of  soldiers,  at  Nanci,  as  we 
shall  see,  needing  to  be  cannonaded  by  a  brave  Bouille.  Of 
sailors,  nay  the  very  galley-slaves,  at  Brest,  needing  also  to  be 
cannonaded,  but  with  no  Bouille  to  do  it.  For  indeed,  to  say 
it  in  a  word,  in  those  days  there  was  no  King  in  Israel,  and 
every  man  did  that  which  was  right  in  his  own  eyes.2 

Such  things  has  an  august  National  Assembly  to  hear  of, 
as  it  goes  on  regenerating  France.  Sad  and  stern :  but  what 
remedy  ?  Get  the  Constitution  ready  ;  and  all  men  will  swear 
to  it :  for  do  not  u  Addresses  of  adhesion  ”  arrive  by  the  cart¬ 
load  ?  In  this  manner,  by  Heaven’s  blessing,  and  a  Consti¬ 
tution  got  ready,  shall  the  bottomless  fire-gulf  be  vaulted  in, 

1  Dampmartin,  Evenemens,  i.  208. 

2  See  Deux  Amis,  iii.  c.  14 ;  iv.  c.  2,  3,  4,  7,  9,  14.  Expedition  des  Volontaires 
de  Brest  sur  Lannion;  Les  Lyonnais  Sauveurs  des  Dauphinois;  Massacre  au 
Mans ;  Troubles  du  Maine  (Pamphlets  and  Excerpts,  in  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  251  ; 
iv.  162-168),  &c. 


Chap.  II.  IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANEGE.  291 

1789-90. 

with  rag-paper;  and  Order  will  wed  Freedom,  and  live  with 
her  there, — till.it  grow  too  hot  for  them.  0  Cote  Gauche , 
worthy  are  ye,  as  the  adhesive  Addresses  generally  say,  to  “  fix 
the  regards  of  the  Universe;”  the  regards  of  this  one  poor 
Planet,  at  lowest !  — 

Nay,  it  must  be  owned,  the  Cote  Droit  makes  a  still  madder 
figure.  An  irrational  generation ;  irrational,  imbecile,  and  with 
the  vehement  obstinacy  characteristic  of  that ;  a  generation 
which  will  not  learn.  Falling  Bastilles,  Insurrections  of  Wo¬ 
men,  thousands  of  smoking  Manor-houses,  a  country  bristling 
writh  no  crop  but  that  of  Sansculottic  steel :  these  were  toler¬ 
ably  didactic  lessons  ;  but  them  they  have  not  taught.  There 
are  still  men,  of  whom  it  was  of  old  written,  Bray  them  in  a 
mortar  !  Or,  in  milder  language,  They  have  wedded  their  de¬ 
lusions  :  fire  nor  steel,  nor  any  sharpness  of  Experience,  shall 
sever  the  bond ;  till  death  do  us  part !  On  such  may  the 
Heavens  have  mercy ;  for  the  Earth,  with  her  rigorous  Neces¬ 
sity,  will  have  none. 

Admit,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  was  most  natural.  Man 
lives  by  Hope :  Pandora,  when  her  box  of  gods’-gifts  flew  all 
out,  and  became  gods’-curses,  still  retained  Hope.  How  shall 
an  irrational  mortal,  when  his  high  place  is  never  so  evidently 
pulled  down,  and  he,  being  irrational,  is  left  resourceless,  part 
with  the  belief  that  it  will  be  rebuilt  ?  It  would  make  all  so 
straight  again ;  it  seems  so  unspeakably  desirable ;  so  reason¬ 
able,  —  would  you  but  look  at  it  aright !  For,  must  not  the 
thing  which  was  continue  to  be;  or  else  the  solid  World  dis¬ 
solve  ?  Yes,  persist,  0  infatuated  Sansculottes  of  France  ! 
Bevolt  against  constituted  Authorities;  hunt  out  your  right¬ 
ful  Seigneurs,  who  at  bottom  so  loved  you,  and  readily  shed 
their  blood  for  you,  —  in  country’s  battles  as  at  Bossbach  and 
elsewhere ;  and,  even  in  preserving  game,  were  preserving  you, 
could  ye  but  have  understood  it :  hunt  them  out,  as  if  they 
were  wild  wolves  ;  set  fire  to  their  Chateaus  and  Chartiers  as 
to  wolf-dens ;  .and  what  then  ?  Why,  then  turn  every  man 
his  hand  against  his  fellow !  In  confusion,  famine,  desolation, 
regret  the  days  that  are  gone ;  rueful  recall  them,  recall  us 
with  them.  To  repentant  prayers  we  will  not  be  deaf. 


292  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  BookYIII. 

1789-90. 

So,  with  dimmer  or  clearer  consciousness,  must  the  Right 
side  reason  and  act.  An  inevitable  position  perhaps ;  but  a 
most  false  one  for  them.  Evil,  be  thou  our  good :  this  hence¬ 
forth  must  virtually  be  their  prayer.  The  fiercer  the  effer¬ 
vescence  grows,  the  sooner  will  it  pass ;  for,  after  all,  it  is 
but  some  mad  effervescence  ;  the  World  is  solid,  and  cannot 
dissolve. 

For  the  rest,  if  they  have  any  positive  industry,  it  is  that 
of  plots,  and  backstairs  conclaves.  Plots  which  cannot  be  exe¬ 
cuted  ;  which  are  mostly  theoretic  on  their  part ;  —  for  which 
nevertheless  this  and  the  other  practical  Sieur  Augeard,  Sieur 
Maillebois,  Sieur  Bonne  Savardin,  gets  into  trouble,  gets  im¬ 
prisoned,  and  escapes  with  difficulty.  Nay  there  is  a  poor 
practical  Chevalier  Favras,  who,  not  without  some  passing 
reflex  on  Monsieur  himself,  gets  hanged  for  them,  amid  loud 
uproar  of  the  world.  Poor  Favras,  he  keeps  dictating  his  last 
will  “  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  through  the  whole  remainder  of 
the  day,”  a  weary  February  day ;  offers  to  reveal  secrets,  if 
they  will  save  him ;  handsomely  declines  since  they  will 
not;  then  dies,  in  the  flare  of  torchlight,  with  politest  com¬ 
posure  ;  remarking,  rather  than  exclaiming,  with  outspread 
hands:  “People,  I  die  innocent;  pray  for  me.”1  Poor 
Favras  ;  —  type  of  so  much  that  has  prowled  indefatiga¬ 
ble  over  France,  in  days  now  ending;  and,  in  freer  field, 
might  have  earned  instead  of  prowling,  —  to  thee  it  is  no 
theory  ! 

In  the  Senate-house  again,  the  attitude  of  the  Bight  side  is 
that  of  calm  unbelief.  Let  an  august  National  Assembly  make 
a  Fourth-of- August  Abolition  of  Feudality  ;  declare  the  Clergy 
State-servants,  who  shall  have  wages  ;  vote  Suspensive  Vetoes, 
new  Law-Courts  ;  vote  or  decree  what  contested  thing  it  will ; 
have  it  responded  to  from  the  four  corners  of  France,  nay  get 
King’s  Sanction,  and  what  other  Acceptance  were  conceivable, 
—  the  Bight  side,  as  we  find,  persists,  with  imperturbablest 
tenacity,  in  considering,  and  ever  and  anon  shows  that  it  still 
considers,  all  these  so-called  Decrees  as  mere  temporary  whims, 
which  indeed  stand  on  paper,  but  in  practice  and  fact  are  not, 
1  See  Deux  Amis,  iv.  c.  14,  7  ;  Hist.  Pari,  vi  384. 


Chap.  ii.  IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANAGE.  293 

1789-90. 

and  cannot  be.  Figure  the  brass  head  of  an  Abbe  Maury  flood¬ 
ing  forth  jesuitic  eloquence  in  this  strain ;  dusky  D’Espreme- 
nil,  Barrel  Mirabeau  (probably  in  liquor),  and  enough  of  others, 
cheering  him  from  the  Bight ;  and,  for  example,  with  what 
visage  a  sea-green  Kobespierre  eyes  him  from  the  Left.  And 
how  Sieyes  ineffably  sniffs  on  him,  or  does  not  deign  to  sniff ; 
and  how  the  Galleries  groan  in  spirit,  or  bark  rabid  on  him : 
so  that  to  escape  the  Lanterne,  on  stepping  forth,  he  needs 
presence  of  mind,  and  a  pair  of  pistols  in  his  girdle !  For  he 
is  one  of  the  toughest  of  men. 

Here  indeed  becomes  notable  one  great  difference  between 
our  two  kinds  of  civil  war;  between  the  modern  lingual  or 
Parliamentary-logical  kind,  and  the  ancient  or  manual  kind  in 
the  steel  battle-field ;  —  much  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  for¬ 
mer.  In  the  manual  kind,  where  you  front  your  foe  with 
drawn  weapon,  one  right  stroke  is  final ;  for,  physically  speak¬ 
ing,  when  the  brains  are  out  the  man  does  honestly  die,  and 
trouble  you  no  more.  But  how  different  when  it  is  with  argu¬ 
ments  you  fight !  Here  no  victory  yet  definable  can  be  con¬ 
sidered  as  final.  Beat  him  down  with  Parliamentary  invective, 
till  sense  be  fled ;  cut  him  in  two,  hanging  one  half  on  this 
dilemma-horn,  the  other  on  that ;  blow  the  brains  or  thinking- 
faculty  quite  out  of  him  for  the  time  :  it  skills  not ;  he  rallies 
and  revives  on  the  morrow ;  to-morrow  he  repairs  his  golden 
fires  !  The  thing  that  ivill  logically  extinguish  him  is  perhaps 
still  a  desideratum  in  Constitutional  civilization.  For  how, 
till  a  man  know,  in  some  measure,  at  what  point  he  becomes 
logically  defunct,  can  Parliamentary  Business  be  carried  on, 
and  Talk  cease  or  slake  ? 

Doubtless  it  was  some  feeling  of  this  difficulty ;  and  the 
clear  insight  how  little  such  knowledge  yet  existed  in  the 
French  Nation,  new  in  the  Constitutional  career,  and  how 
defunct  Aristocrats  would  continue  to  walk  for  unlimited 
periods,  as  Partridge  the  Almanac-maker  did,  —  that  had  sunk 
into  the  deep  mind  of  People’s-friend  Marat,  an  eminently 
practical  mind ;  and  had  grown  there,  in  that  richest  putres¬ 
cent  soil,  into  the  most  original  plan  of  action  ever  submitted 
to  a  People.  Not  yet  has  it  grown  ;  but  it  has  germinated,  it 


294  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  viii. 

1789-90. 

is  growing  ;  rooting  itself  into  Tartarus,  branching  towards 
Heaven :  the  second  season  hence,  we  shall  see  it  risen  out  of 
the  bottomless  Darkness,  full-grown,  into  disastrous  Twilight, 
—  a  Hemlock-tree,  great  as  the  world  ;  on  or  under  whose 
boughs  all  the  People’s-friends  of  the  world  may  lodge.  “  Two 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  Aristocrat  heads  :”  that  is  the 
precise st  calculation,  though  one  would  not  stand  on  a  few 
hundreds ;  yet  we  never  rise  as  high  as  the  round  three  hun¬ 
dred  thousand.  Shudder  at  it,  0  People  ;  but  it  is  as  true  as 
that  ye  yourselves,  and  your  People’s-friend,  are  alive.  .  These 
prating  Senators  of  yours  hover  ineffectual  on  the  barren 
letter,  and  will  never  save  the  Revolution.  A  Cassandra- 
Marat  cannot  do  it,  with  his  single  shrunk  arm  ;  but  with  a 
few  determined  men  it  were  possible.  “  Give  me,”  said  the 
People ’s-friend,  in  his  cold  way,  when  young  Barbaroux,  once 
his  pupil  in  a  course  of  what  was  called  Optics,  went  to  see 
him,  “  Give  me  two  hundred  Naples  Bravoes,  armed  each  with 
a  good  dirk,  and  a  muff  on  his  left  arm  by  way  of  shield  : 
with  them  I  will  traverse  France,  and  accomplish  the  Revo¬ 
lution.”  1  Nay,  be  grave,  young  Barbaroux  ;  for  thou  seest 
there  is  iro  jesting  in  those  rheumy  eyes,  in  that  soot-bleared 
figure,  most  earnest  of  created  things ;  neither  indeed  is  there 
madness,  of  the  strait-waistcoat  sort. 

Such  produce  shall  the  Time  ripen  in  cavernous  Marat,  the 
man  forbid  ;  living  in  Paris  cellars,  lone  as  fanatic  Anchorite 
in  his  Theba’id  ;  say,  as  far-seen  Simon  on  his  Pillar,  —  taking 
peculiar  views  therefrom.  Patriots  may  smile  ;  and,  using 
him  as  bandog  now  to  be  muzzled,  now  to  be  let  bark,  name 
him,  as  Desmoulins  does,  “  Maximum  of  Patriotism  ”  and 
“  Cassandra-Marat :  ”  but  were  it  not  singular  if  this  dirk-and- 
muff  plan  of  his  (with  superficial  modifications)  proved  to  be 
precisely  the  plan  adopted  ? 

After  this  manner,  in  these  circumstances,  do  august  Sena¬ 
tors  regenerate  France.  Nay,  they  are,  in  very  deed,  believed 
to  be  regenerating  it;  on  account  of  which  great  fact,  main 
fact  of  their  history,  the  wearied  eye  can  never  be  permitted 
wholly  to  ignore  them.  • 

1  M&noires  de  Barbaroux  (Paris,  1822),  p.  57. 


Chap.  II.  IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANEGE.  '  295 

October  21. 

But,  looking  away  now  from  these  precincts  of  the  Tuileries, 
where  Constitutional  Royalty,  let  Lafayette  water  it  as  he 
will,  languishes  too  like  a  cut  branch;  and  august  Senators 
are  perhaps  at  bottom  only  perfecting  their  “  theory  of  defec¬ 
tive  verbs,”  —  how  does  the  young  Reality,  young  Sansculot- 
tism  thrive  ?  The  attentive  observer  can  answer :  It  thrives 
bravely ;  putting  forth  new  buds  ;  expanding  the  old  buds 
into  leaves,  into  boughs.  Is  not  French  Existence,  as  before, 
most  prurient,  all  loosened ,  most  nutrient  for  it  ?  Sansculot- 
tism  has  the  property  of  growing  by  what  other  things  die  of  : 
by  agitation,  contention,  disarrangement ;  nay  in  a  word,  by 
what  is  the  symbol  and  fruit  of  all  these :  Hunger. 

In  such  a  France  as  this,  Hunger,  as  we  have  remarked,  can 
hardly  fail.  The  Provinces,  the  Southern  Cities  feel  it  in 
their  turn ;  and  what  it  brings :  Exasperation,  preternatural 
Suspicion.  In  Paris  some  halcyon  days  of  abundance  followed 
the  Menadic  Insurrection,  with  its  Versailles  grain-carts,  and 
recovered  Restorer  of  Liberty  ;  but  they  could  not  continue. 
The  month  is  still  October,  when  famishing  Saint- Antoine,  in 
a  moment  of  passion,  seizes  a  poor  Baker,  innocent  “  Frangois 
the  Baker ;  ”  1  and  hangs  him,  in  Constantinople  wise ;  —  but 
even  this,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  does  not  cheapen  bread  ! 
Too  clear  it  is,  no  Royal  bounty,  no  Municipal  dexterity  can 
adequately  feed  a  Bastille-destroying  Paris.  Wherefore,  on 
view  of  the  hanged  Baker,  Constitutionalism  in  sorrow  and 
anger  demands  “  Loi  Martiale a  kind  of  Riot  Act  ;  —  and 
•indeed  gets  it  most  readily,  almost  before  the  sun  goes  down. 

This  is  that  famed  Martial  Law ,  with  its  Red  Flag,  its 
“ Drapeau  Rouge”  in  virtue  of  which  Mayor  Bailly,  or  any 
Mayor,  has  but  henceforth  to  hang  out  that  new  Oriflamme 
of  his ;  then  to  read  or  mumble  something  about  the  King’s 
peace ;  and,  after  certain  pauses,  serve  any  undispersing  As¬ 
semblage  with  musket-shot,  or  whatever  shot  will  disperse  it. 
A  decisive  Law  ;  and  most  just  on  one  proviso  :  that  all 
Patrollotism  be  of  God,  and  all  mob-assembling  be  of  the 
Devil ;  —  otherwise  not  so  just.  Mayor  Bailly,  be  unwilling 
to  use  it !  Hang  not  out  that  new  Oriflamme,  flame  not  of  gold 
1  21st  October,  1789  ( Mon iteur,  No.  76). 


296  *  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

but  of  the  want  of  gold !  The  thrice-blessed  Revolution  is 
done,  thou  thinkest  ?  If  so,  it  will  be  well  with  thee. 

But  now  let  no  mortal  say  henceforth  that  an  august 
National  Assembly  wants  riot  :  all  it  ever  wanted  was  riot 
enough  to  balance  Court-plotting;  all  it  now  wants,  of  Heaven 
or  of  Earth,  is  to  get  its  theory  of  defective  verbs  perfected. 


V  CHAPTER  III. 

THE  MUSTER. 

With  Famine  and  a  Constitutional  theory  of  defective* 
verbs  going  on,  all  other  excitement  is  conceivable.  A  uni¬ 
versal  shaking  and  sifting  of  French  Existence  this  is  :  in  the 
course  of  which,  for  one  thing,  what  a  multitude  of  low-lying 
figures  are  sifted  to  the  top,  and  set  busily  to  work  there  ! 

Dogleech  Marat,  now  far-seen  as  Simon  Stylites,  we  already 
know ;  him  and  others,  raised  aloft.  The  mere  sample  these 
of  what  is  coming,  of  what  continues  coming,  upwards  from 
the  realm  of  Night !  —  Chaumette,  by  and  by  Anaxagoras 
Chaumette,  one  already  descries  :  mellifluous  in  street-groups  ; 
not  now  a  sea-boy  on  the  high  and  giddy  mast :  a  mellifluous 
tribune  of  the  common  people,  with  long  curling  locks,  on 
bournestone  of  the  thoroughfares ;  able  sub-editor  too ;  who 
shall  rise,  —  to  the  very  gallows.  Clerk  Tallien,  he  also  is 
become  sub-editor ;  shall  become  able-editor  ;  and  more.  Bibli- 
opolic  Momoro,  Typographic  Prudhomme  see  new  trades  open¬ 
ing.  Collot  d’Herbois,  tearing  a  passion  to  rags,  pauses  on 
the  Thespian  boards ;  listens,  with  that  black  bushy  head,  to 
the  sound  of  the  world’s  drama:  shall  the  Mimetic  become 
Real  ?  Did  ye  hiss  him,  0  men  of  Lyons  ?  1  Better  had  ye 
clapped ! 

Happy  now,  indeed,  for  all  manner  of  mimetic,  half-original 
men  !  Tumid  blustering,  with  more  or  less  of  sincerity,  which 
need  not  be  entirely  sincere,  yet  the  sincerer  the  better,  is  like 

1  Buzot,  Mtmoires  (Paris,  1823),  p.  90. 


Chap.  III.  THE  MUSTER.  297 

1789-90. 

to  go  far.  Shall  we  say,  the  Revolution-element  works  itself 
rarer  and  rarer ;  so  that  only  lighter  and  lighter  bodies  will 
float  in  it ;  till  at  last  the  mere  blown-bladder  is  your  only 
swimmer  ?  Limitation  of  mind,  then  vehemence,  promptitude, 
audacity,  shall  all  be  available  ;  to  which  add  only  these  two  : 
cunning  and  good  lungs.  Good  fortune  must  be  presupposed. 
Accordingly,  of  all  classes  the  rising  one,  we  observe,  is  now 
the  Attorney  class :  witness  Bazires,  Carriers,  Fouquier-Tin- 
villes,  Basoche-Captain  Bourdons :  more  than  enough.  Such 
figures  shall  Night,  from  her  wonder-bearing  bosom,  emit; 
swarm  after  swarm.  Of  another  deeper  and  deepest  swarm, 
not  yet  dawned  on  the  astonished  eye ;  of  pilfering  Candle- 
snuffers,  Thief-valets,  disfrocked  Capuchins,  and  so  many 
Heberts,  Henriots,  Ronsins,  Rossignols,  let  us,  as  long  as 
possible,  forbear  speaking. 

Thus,  over  France,  all  stirs  that  has  what  the  Physiologists 
call  irritability  in  it :  how  much  more  all  wherein  irritability 
has  perfected  itself  into  vitality,  into  actual  vision,  and  force 
that  can  will !  All  stirs  ;  and  if  not  in  Paris,  flocks  thither. 
Great  and  greater  waxes  President  Danton  in  his  Cordeliers 
Section ;  his  rhetorical  tropes  are  all  “  gigantic :  ”  energy 
flashes  from  his  black  brows,  menaces  in  his  athletic  figure, 
rolls  in  the  sound  of  his  voice  “  reverberating  from  the 
domes  :  ”  this  man  also,  like  Mirabeau,  has  a  natural  eye ,  and 
begins  to  see  whither  Constitutionalism  is  tending,  though 
with  a  wish  in  it  different  from  Mirabeau’s. 

Remark,  on  the  other  hand,  how  General  Dumouriez  has 
quitted  Normandy  and  the  Cherbourg  Breakwater,  to  come  — 
whither  we  may  guess.  It  is  his  second  or  even  third  trial  at 
Paris,  since  this  New  Era  began;  but  now  it  is  in  right  earnest, 
for  he  has  quitted  all  else.  Wiry,  elastic,  unwearied  man; 
whose  life  was  but  a  battle  and  a  march !  No,  not  a  creature 
of  Choiseul’s  ;  “  the  creature  of  God  and  of  my  sword/’  —  he 
fiercely  answered  in  old  days.  Overfalling  Corsican  batteries, 
in  the  deadly  fire-hail ;  wriggling  invincible  from  under  his 
horse,  at  Closterkamp  of  the  Netherlands,  though  tethered 
with  “  crushed  stirrup-iron  and  nineteen  wounds ;  ”  tough, 
minatory,  standing  at  bay,  as  forlorn  hope,  on  the  skirts  of 


298  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII 

1789-90. 

Poland  ;  intriguing,  battling  in  cabinet  and  field  ;  roaming  far 
out,  obscure,  as  King’s  spial,  or  sitting  sealed  up,  enchanted  in 
Bastille ;  fencing,  pamphleteering,  scheming  and  struggling 
from  the  very  birth  of  him,1  —  the  man  has  come  thus  far. 
How  repressed,  how  irrepressible  !  Like  some  incarnate  spirit 
in  prison,  which  indeed  he  was ;  hewing  on  granite  walls  for 
deliverance ;  striking  fire-flashes  from  them.  And  now  has 
the  general  earthquake  rent  his  cavern  too  ?  Twenty  years 
younger,  what  might  he  not  have  done !  But  his  hair  has  a 
shade  of  gray ;  his  way  of  thought  is  all  fixed,  military.  He 
can  grow  no  further,  and  the  new  world  is  in  such  growth. 
We  will  name  him,  on  the  whole,  one  of  Heaven’s  Swiss;  with* 
out  faith ;  wanting  above  all  things  work,  work  on  any  side. 
Work  also  is  appointed  him;  and  he  will  do  it. 

Hot  from  over  France  only  are  the  unrestful  flocking 
towards  Paris;  but  from  all  sides  of  Europe.  Where  the 
carcass  is,  thither  will  the  eagles  gather.  Think  how  many  ,a 
Spanish  Guzman,  Martinico  Fournier  named  “  Fournier  VAme- 
ricain,”  Engineer  Miranda  from  the  very  Andes,  were  flocking 
or  had  flocked.  Walloon  Pereyra  might  boast  of  the  strangest 
parentage :  him,  they  say,  Prince  Kaunitz  the  Diplomatist 
heedlessly  dropped ;  like  ostrich-egg,  to  be  hatched  of  Chance, 
—  into  an  ostrich-eater*  /  Jewish  or  German  Freys  do  business 
in  the  great  Cesspool  of  Agio ;  which  Cesspool  this  Assignat- 
fiat  has  quickened,  into  a  Mother  of  dead  dogs.  Swiss  Claviere 
could  found  no  Socinian  Genevese  Colony  in  Ireland ;  but  he 
paused,  years  ago,  prophetic,  before  the  Minister’s  Hotel  at 
Paris ;  and  said,  it  was  borne  on  his  mind  that  he  one  day  was 
to  be  Minister,  and  laughed.2  Swiss  Pache,  on  the  other  hand, 
sits  sleek-headed,  frugal ;  the  wonder  of  his  own  alley,  and 
even  of  neighboring  ones,  for  humility  of  mind,  and  a  thought 
deeper  than  most  men’s  :  sit  there,  Tartuffe,  till  wanted  !  Ye 
Italian  Dufournys,  Flemish  Prolys,  flit  hither  all  ye  bipeds 
of  prey !  Come  whosesoever  head  is  hot ;  thou  of  mind  un¬ 
governed,  be  it  chaos  as  of  undevelopment  or  chaos  as  of  ruin ; 

1  Dumouriez,  Memoires,  i.  28,  &c. 

2  Dumont,  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  399. 


Chap.  HI.  THE  MUSTER.  299 

1789-90. 

the  man  who  cannot  get  known,  the  man  who  is  too  well 
known ;  if  thou  have  any  vendible  faculty,  nay  if  thou  have 
but  edacity  and  loquacity,  come  !  They  come ;  with  hot  unut- 
terabilities  in  their  heart ;  as  Pilgrims  towards  a  miraculous 
shrine.  Nay  how  many  come  as  vacant  Strollers,  aimless,  of 
whom  Europe  is  full,  merely  towards  something!  For  be¬ 
nighted  fowls,  when  you  beat  their  bushes,  rush  towards  any 
light.  Thus  Frederick  Baron  Trenck  too  is  here  5  mazed,  pur¬ 
blind,  from  the  cells  of  Magdeburg ;  Minotauric  cells,  and  his 
Ariadne  lost !  Singular  to  say,  Trenck,  in  these  years,  sells 
wine ;  not  indeed  in  bottle,  but  in  wood. 

Nor  is  our  England  without  her  missionaries.  She  has  her 
life-saving  Needham ; 1  to  whom  was  solemnly  presented  a 
“  civic  sword,”  —  long  since  rusted  into  nothingness.  Her 
Paine  :  rebellious  Stay  maker  ;  unkempt ;  who  feels  that  he,  a 
single  Needleman,  did,  by  his  Common- Sense  Pamphlet,  free 
America  ;  —  that  he  can  and  will  free  all  this  World  ;  perhaps 
even  the  other.  Price-Stanhope  Constitutional  Association 
sends  over  to  congratulate ; 2  welcomed  by  National  Assembly, 
though  they  are  but  a  London  Club ;  whom  Burke  and  Toryism 

eve  askance. 

%/ 

On  thee  too,  for  country’s  sake,  0  Chevalier  John  Paul,  be  a 
word  spent,  or  misspent !  In  faded  naval  uniform,  Paul  J ones 
lingers  visible  here ;  like  a  wineskin  from  which  the  wine  is  all 
drawn.  Like  the  ghost  of  himself!  Low  is  his  once  loud 
bruit ;  scarcely  audible,  save,  with  extreme  tedium,  in  minis¬ 
terial  antechambers,  in  this  or  the  other  charitable  dining¬ 
room,  mindful  of  the  past.  What  changes ;  culminatings  and 
declinings  !  Not  now,  poor  Paul,  thou  lookest  wistful  over  the 
Solway  brine,  by  the  foot  of  native  Criffel,  into  blue  moun¬ 
tainous  Cumberland,  into  blue  Infinitude;  environed  with 
thrift,  with  humble  friendliness ;  thyself,  young  fool,  longing 

1  A  trustworthy  gentleman  writes  to  me,  three  years  ago,  with  a  feeling 
which  I  cannot  hut  respect,  that  his  Father,  “the  late  Admiral  Nesliam”  (not 
Needham ,  as  the  French  Journalists  give  it)  is  the  Englishman  meant;  and 
furthermore  that  the  sword  is  “  not  rusted  at  all,”  but  still  lies,  with  the  due 
memory  attached  to  it,  in  his  (the  son’s)  possession,  at  Plymouth,  in  a  clear 
state.  (Note  of  1857.) 

*  Moniteur ,  10  Novembre,  7  Decembre,  1789. 


300  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

to  be  aloft  from  it,  or  even  to  be  away  from  it.  Yes,  beyond 
that  sapphire  Promontory,  which  men  name  St.  Bees,  which  is 
not  sapphire  either,  but  dull  sandstone,  when  one  gets  close  to 
it,  there  is  a  world.  Which  world  thou  too  shalt  taste  of !  — 
From  yonder  White  Haven  rise  his  smoke-clouds  ;  ominous 
though  ineffectual.  Proud  Forth  quakes  at  his  bellying  sails ; 
had  not  the  wind  suddenly  shifted.  Flamborough  reapers, 
home-going,  pause  on  the  hill-side :  for  what  sulphur-cloud  is 
that  that  defaces  the  sleek  sea :  sulpliur-cloud  spitting  streaks 
of  fire  ?  A  sea  cock-fight  it  is,  and  of  the  hottest ;  where  Brit¬ 
ish  Scrap  is  and  French- American  Bon  Homme  Richard  do  lash 
and  throttle  each  other,  in  their  fashion ;  and  lo  the  desperate 
valor  has  suffocated  the  deliberate,  and  Paul  Jones  too  is  of 
the  Kings  of  the  Sea ! 

The  Euxine,  the  Meotian  waters  felt  thee  next,  and  long- 
skirted  Turks,  0  Paul ;  and  thy  fiery  soul  has  wasted  itself 
in  thousand  contradictions ;  —  to  no  purpose.  For,  in  far 
lands,  with  scarlet  Nassau-Siegens,  with  sinful  Imperial  Cath¬ 
erines,  is  not  the  heart  broken,  even  as  at  home  with  the 
mean  ?  Poor  Paul !  hunger  and  dispiritment  track  thy  sinking 
footsteps :  once,  or  at  most  twice,  in  this  Bevolution-tumult 
the  figure  of  thee  emerges  ;  mute,  ghostlike,  as  “  with  stars 
dim-twinkling  through.”  And  then,  when  the  light  is  gone 
quite  out,  a  National  Legislature  grants  “ceremonial  funeral”  ! 
As  good  had  been  the  natural  Presbyterian  Kirk-bell,  and  six 
feet  of  Scottish  earth,  among  the  dust  of  thy  loved  ones.  — 
Such  world  lay  beyond  the  Promontory  of  St.  Bees.  Such  is 
the  life  of  sinful  mankind  here  below. 

But  of  all  strangers  far  the  notablest  for  us  is  Baron  Jean 
Baptiste  de  Clootz ;  —  or,  dropping  baptisms  and  feudalisms, 
World-Citizen  Anacharsis  Clootz,  from  Cleves.  Him  mark, 
judicious  Header.  Thou  hast  known  his  Uncle,  sharp-sighted, 
thoroughgoing  Cornelius  de  Pauw,  who  mercilessly  cuts  down 
cherished  illusions ;  and  of  the  finest  antique  Spartans  will 
make  mere  modern  cutthroat  Mainots.1  The  like  stuff  is 
in  Anacharsis :  hot  metal :  full  of  scoriae,  which  should  and  , 
1  De  Pauw,  Recherches  sur  les  Grecs,  &c. 


Chap.  III.  THE  MUSTER.  301 

1789-90. 

could  have  been  smelted  out,  but  which,  will  not.  He  has 
wandered  over  this  terraqueous  Planet  ;  seeking,  one  may  say, 
the  Paradise  we  lost  long  ago.  He  has  seen  English  Burke ; 
has  been  seen  of  the  Portugal  Inquisition;  has  roamed,  and 
fought,  and  written ;  is  writing,  among  other  things,  “  Evi¬ 
dences  of  the  Mahometan  Religion.”  But  now,  like  his  Scyth¬ 
ian  adoptive  godfather,  he  finds  himself  in  the  Paris  Athens ; 
surely,  at  last,  the  haven  of  his  soul.  A  dashing  man,  beloved 
at  Patriotic  dinner-tables  ;  with  gayety,  nay  with  humor ;  head¬ 
long,  trenchant,  of  free  purse ;  in  suitable  costume ;  though 
what  mortal  ever  more  despised  costumes  ?  Under  all  cos¬ 
tumes  Anacharsis  seeks  the  man ;  not  Stylites  Marat  will  more 
freely  trample  costumes,  if  they  hold  no  man.  This  is  the 
faith  of  Anacharsis  :  That  there  is  a  Paradise  discoverable ;  that 
all  costumes  ought  to  hold  men.  0  Anacharsis,  it  is  a  head¬ 
long,  swift-going  faith.  Mounted  thereon,  meseems,  thou  art 
bound  hastily  for  the  City  of  Nowhere ;  and  wilt  arrive  !  At 
best,  we  may  say,  arrive  in  good  riding  attitude  ;  which  indeed 
is  something. 

So  many  new  persons  and  new  things  have  come  to  occupy 
this  France.  Her  old  Speech  and  Thought,  and  Activity  which 
springs  from  these,  are  all  changing;  fermenting  towards 
unknown  issues.  To  the  dullest  peasant,  as  he  sits  sluggish, 
overtoiled,  by  his  evening  hearth,  one  idea  has  come :  that  of 
Chateaus  burnt;  of  Chateaus  combustible.  How  altered  all 
Coffee-houses,  in  Province  or  Capital !  The  Antre  de  Procope 
has  now  other  questions  than  the  Three  Stagyrite  Unities  to 
settle ;  not  theatre-controversies,  but  a  world-controversy :  there, 
in  the  ancient  pigtail  mode,  or  with  modern  Brutus’  heads,  do 
well-frizzed  logicians  hold  hubbub,  and  Chaos  umpire  sits. 
The  ever-enduring  melody  of  Paris  Saloons  has  got  a  new 
ground-tone  :  ever-enduring ;  which  has  been  heard,  and  by  the 
listening  Heaven  too,  since  Julian  the  Apostate’s  time  and 
earlier;  mad  now  as  formerly. 

Ex-Censor  Suard,  A'cc-Censor,  for  we  have  freedom  of  the 
Press ;  he  may  be  seen  there ;  impartial,  even  neutral.  Tyrant 


302  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII 

1789-90. 

Grimm  rolls  large  eyes,  over  a  questionable  coming  Time. 
Atheist  Naigeon,  beloved  disciple  of  Diderot,  crows,  in  his 
small  difficult  way,  heralding  glad  dawn.1  But  on  the  other 
hand,  how  many  Morellets,  Marmontels,  who  had  sat  all  their 
life  hatching  Philosophe  eggs,  cackle  now,  in  a  state  bordering 
on  distraction,  at  the  brood  they  have  brought  out ! 2  It  was 
so  delightful  to  have  one’s  Philosophe  Theorem  demonstrated, 
crowned  in  the  saloons  :  and  now  an  infatuated  people  will  not 
continue  speculative,  but  have  Practice ! 

There  also  observe  Preceptress  Genlis,  or  Sillery,  or  Sillery- 
Genlis,  —  for  our  husband  is  both  Count  and  Marquis,  and  we 
have  more  than  one  title.  Pretentious,  frothy ;  a  puritan  yet 
creedless  ;  darkening  counsel  by  words  without  wisdom  !  For, 
it  is  in  that  thin  element  of  the  Sentimentalist  and  Distin¬ 
guished  Female  that  Sillery-Genlis  works  j  she  would  gladly  be 
sincere,  yet  can  grow  no  sincerer  than  sincere  cant :  sincere 
cant  of  many  forms,  ending  in  the  devotional  form.  For  the 
present,  on  a  neck  still  of  moderate  whiteness,  she  wears  as 
jewel  a  miniature  Bastille,  cut  on  mere  sandstone,  but  then 
actual  Bastille  sandstone.  M.  le  Marquis  is  one  of  D’ Orleans’s 
errandmen;  in  National  Assembly,  and  elsewhere.  Madame, 
for  her  part,  trains  up  a  youthful  D’Orleans  generation  in  what 
superfinest  morality  one  can ;  gives  meanwhile  rather  enigmatic 
account  of  fair  Mademoiselle  Pamela,  the  Daughter  whom  she 
has  adopted.  Thus  she,  in  Palais-Royal  Saloon ;  —  whither, 
we  remark,  D’Orleans  himself,  spite  of  Lafayette,  has  returned 
from  that  English  “  mission  ”  of  his :  surely  no  pleasant  mis¬ 
sion  :  for  the  English  would  not  speak  to  him ;  and  Saint 
Hannah  More  of  England,  so  unlike  Saint  Sillery-Genlis  of 
France,  saw  him  shunned,  in  Vauxhall  Gardens,  like  one  pest- 
struck,3  and  his  red-blue  impassive  visage  waxing  hardly  a 
shade  bluer. 

1  Naigeon,  Adresse  a  V Assemble  Nationale  (Paris,  1790),  sur  la  liberty  des 
opinions. 

2  See  Marmontel,  Me  moires,  passim  ;  Morellet,  moires,  &c. 

3  Hannah  More’s  Life  and  Correspondence ,  ii.  c  5 


Chat.  IV. 
1789-90. 


JOURNALISM. 


303 


CHAPTER  IV. 

JOURNALISM. 

As  for  Constitutionalism,  with  its  National  Guards,  it  is 
doing  what  it  can ;  and  has  enough  to  do :  it  must,  as  ever, 
with  one  hand  wave  persuasively,  repressing  Patriotism ;  and 
keep  the  other  clenched  to  menace  Royalist  plotters.  A  most 
delicate  task ;  requiring  tact. 

Thus,  if  People’s-friend  Marat  has  to-day  his  writ  of  “ prise 
de  corps ,  or  seizure  of  body,”  served  on  him,  and  dives  out  of 
sight,  to-morrow  he  is  left  at  large;  or  is  even  encouraged, 
as  a  sort  of  bandog  whose  baying  may  be  useful.  President 
Danton,  in  open  Hall,  with  reverberating  voice,  declares  that, 
in  a  case  like  Marat’s,  “  force  may  be  resisted  by  force.” 
Whereupon  the  Chatelet  serves  Danton  also  with  a  writ;  — 
which  however,  as  the  whole  Cordeliers  District  responds  to 
it,  what  Constable  will  be  prompt  to  execute  ?  Twice  more, 
on  new  occasions,  does  the  Chatelet  launch  its  writ ;  and 
twice  more  in  vain :  the  body  of  Danton  cannot  be  seized  by 
Chatelet;  he  unseized,  should  he  even  fly  for  a  season,  shall 
behold  the  Chatelet  itself  flung  into  Limbo. 

Municipality  and  Brissot,  meanwhile,  are  far  on  with  their 
Municipal  Constitution.  The  Sixty  Districts  shall  become 
Porty-eight  Sections ;  much  shall  be  adjusted,  and  Paris  have 
its  Constitution.  A  Constitution  wholly  Elective ;  as  indeed 
all  French  Government  shall  and  must  be.  And  yet,  one 
fatal  element  has  been  introduced :  that  of  citoyen  actif.  No 
man  who  does  not  pay  the  marc  d’ argent,  or  yearly  tax  equal  to 
three-days’  labor,  shall  be  other  than  a  passive  citizen :  not  the 
slightest  vote  for  him ;  were  he  acting ,  all  the  year  round,  with 
sledge-hammer,  with  forest-levelling  axe  !  Unheard  of !  cry 
Patriot  Journals.  Yes  truly,  my  Patriot  Friends,  if  Liberty, 
the  passion  and  prayer  of  all  men’s  kouls,  means  Liberty  to 


304  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  Vlii. 

1789-90. 

send  your  fifty-thousandth  part  of  a  new  Tongue-fencer  into 
National  Debating-club,  then,  be  the  gods  witness,  ye  are 
hardly  entreated.  Oh,  if  in  National  Palaver  (as  the  Africans 
name  it),  such  blessedness  is  verily  found,  what  tyrant  would 
deny  it  to  Son  of  Adam !  Nay,  might  there  not  be  a  Female 
Parliament  too,  with  “  screams  from  the  Opposition  benches,” 
and  “  the  honorable  Member  borne  out  in  hysterics  ”  ?  To  a 
Children’s  Parliament  would  I  gladly  consent ;  or  even  lower 
if  ye  wished  it.  Beloved  Brothers  !  Liberty,  one  may  fear, 
is  actually,  as  the  ancient  wise  men  said,  of  Heaven.  On  this 
Earth,  where,  thinks  the  enlightened  public,  did  a  brave  little 
Dame  de  Staal  (not  Necker’s  Daughter,  but  a  far  shrewder 
than  she)  find  the  nearest  approach  to  Liberty  ?  After  mature 
computation,  cool  as  Dilworth’s,  her  answer  is,  In  the  Bastille} 
“Of  Heaven?  ”  answer  many,  asking.  Woe  that  they  should 
ask ;  for  that  is  the  very  misery !  “  Of  Heaven  ”  means 

much ;  share  in  the  National  Palaver  it  may,  or  may  as  prob¬ 
ably  not  mean. 

One  Sansculottic  bough  that  cannot  fail  to  flourish  is 
J ournalism.  The  voice  of  the  People  being  the  voice  of  God, 
shall  not  such  divine  voice  make  itself  heard  ?  To  the  ends 
of  France ;  and  in  as  many  dialects  as  when  the  first  great 
Babel  was  to  be  built !  Some  loud  as  the  lion ;  some  small 
as  the  sucking  dove.  Mirabeau  himself  has  his  instructive 
Journal  or  Journals,  with  Geneva  hodmen  working  in  them; 
and  withal  has  quarrels  enough  with  Dame  le  Jay,  his  Female 
Bookseller,  so  ultra-compliant  otherwise.2 

King's  friend  Boyou  still  prints  himself.  Barrere  sheds 
tears  of  loyal  sensibility  in  Break-of-Day  Journal,  though 
with  declining  sale.  But  why  is  Freron  so  hot,  democratic; 
Freron,  the  King’s-friend’s  Nephew  ?  He  has  it  by  kind,  that 
heat  of  his:  wasp  Freron  begot  him;  Voltaire’s  Frelon ;  who 
fought  stinging,  while  sting  and  poison-bag  were  left,  were 
it  only  as  Reviewer,  and  over  Printed  Waste-paper.  Con¬ 
stant,  illuminative,  as  the  nightly  lamplighter,  issues  the 
useful  Moniteur ,  for  it  is  now  become  diurnal,  with  facts  and 

1  De  Staal,  M€ moires  (Paris,  1821),  i.  169-280. 

2  Dumont,  Souvenirs,  6. 


JOURNALISM. 


805 


Chap.  IY. 

1789-90. 

few  commentaries  ;  official,  safe  in  the  middle ;  —  its  Able 
Editors  sunk  long  since,  recoverably  or  irrecoverably,  in  deep 
darkness.  Acid  Loustalot,  with  his  “vigor,”  as  of  young 
sloes,  shall  never  ripen,  but  die  untimely :  his  Prudliomme, 
however,  will  not  let  that  Revolutions  de  Paris  die ;  but  edit 
it  himself,  with  much  else,  —  dull-blustering  Printer  though 
he  be. 

Of  Cassandra-Marat  we  have  spoken  often ;  yet  the  most 
surprising  truth  remains  to  be  spoken :  that  he  actually  does 
not  want  sense ;  but,  with  croaking  gelid  throat,  croaks  out 
masses  of  the  truth,  on  several  things.  Nay  sometimes,  one 
might  almost  fancy  he  had  a  perception  of  humor,  and  were 
laughing  a  little,  far  down  in  his  inner  man.  Camille  is  wit¬ 
tier  than  ever,  and  more  outspoken,  cynical ;  yet  sunny  as 
ever.  A  light  melodious  creature;  “born,”  as  he  shall  yet 
say  with  bitter  tears,  “  to  write  verses ;  ”  light  Apollo,  so 
clear,  soft-lucent,  in  this  war  of  the  Titans,  wherein  he  shall 
not  conquer ! 

Folded  and  hawked  Newspapers  exist  in  all  countries;  but, 
in  such  a  Journalistic  element  as  this  of  Prance,  other  and 
stranger  sorts  are  to  be  anticipated.  What  says  the  English 
reader  to  a  Journal  Affiche ,  Placard  Journal;  legible  to  him 
that  has  no  halfpenny ;  in  bright  prismatic  colors,  calling  the 
eye  from  afar  ?  Such,  in  the  coming  months,  as  Patriot 
Associations,  public  and  private,  advance,  and  can  subscribe 
funds,  shall  plenteously  hang  themselves  out:  leaves ,  limed 
leaves,  to  catch  what  they  can !  The  very  Government  shall 
have  its  Pasted  Journal;  Louvet,  busy  yet  with  a  new 
“charming  romance,”  shall  write  Sentmelles,  and  post  them 
with  effect ;  nay  Bertrand  de  Moleville,  in  his  extremity,  shall 
still  more  cunningly  try  it.1  Great  is  Journalism.  Is  not 
every  Able  Editor  a  Ruler  of  the  World,  being  a  persuader 
'of  it;  though  self-elected,  yet  sanctioned,  by  the  sale  of  his 
Numbers  ?  Whom  indeed  the  world  has  the  readiest  method 
of  deposing,  should  need  be :  that  of  merely  doing  nothing  to 
him  ;  which  ends  in  starvation. 

Nor  esteem  it  small  what  those  Bill-stickers  had  to  do  in 

1  See  Bertrand-Moleville,  Mtfmoires,  ii.  100,  &c. 

20 


TOL.  III. 


306  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

Paris:  above  Threescore  of  them:  all  with  their  crosspoles, 
haversacks,  paste-pots ;  nay  with  leaden  badges,  for  the  Muni¬ 
cipality  licenses  them.  A  Sacred  College,  properly  of  World- 
rulers’  Heralds,  though  not  respected  as  such  in  an  Era  still 
incipient  and  raw.  They  made  the  walls  of  Paris  didactic, 
suasive,  with  an  ever-fresh  Periodical  Literature,  wherein  he 
that  ran  might  read:  Placard  Journals,  Placard  Lampoons, 
Municipal  Ordinances,  Eoyal  Proclamations ;  the  whole  other 
or  vulgar  Placard-department  superadded, — or  omitted  from 
contempt !  What  unutterable  things  the  stone-walls  spoke, 
during  these  five  years  !  But  it  is  all  gone ;  To-day  swallow¬ 
ing  Yesterday,  and  then  being  in  its  turn  swallowed  of  To¬ 
morrow,  even  as  Speech  ever  is.  Nay  what,  0  thou  immortal 
Man  of  Letters,  is  Writing  itself  but  Speech  conserved  for  a 
time  ?  The  Placard  Journal  conserved  it  for  one  day ;  some 
Books  conserve  it  for  the  matter  of  ten  years ;  nay  some  for 
three  thousand :  but  what  then  ?  Why,  then,  the  years  being 
all  run,  it  also  dies,  and  the  world  is  rid  of  it.  Oh,  were  there 
not  a  spirit  in  the  word  of  man,  as  in  man  himself,  that  sur¬ 
vived  the  audible  bodied  word,  and  tended  either  godward 
or  else  devilward  forevermore,  why  should  he  trouble  himself 
much  with  the  truth  of  it,  or  the  falsehood  of  it,  except  for 
commercial  purposes  ?  His  immortality  indeed,  and  whether 
it  shall  last  half  a  lifetime  or  a  lifetime  and  half;  is  not 
that  a  very  considerable  thing?  Immortality,  mortality:  — 
there  were  certain  runaways  whom  Fritz  the  Great  bullied 
back  into  the  battle  with  a  :  “  R — ,  wollt  ihr  ewig  leben,  Un¬ 
printable  Offscouring  of  Scoundrels,  would  ye  live  forever !  ” 
This  is  the  Communication  of  Thought ;  how  happy  when 
there  is  any  Thought  to  communicate  !  Neither  let  the  simpler 
old  methods  be  neglected,  in  their  sphere.  The  Palais-Koyal 
Tent,  a  tyrannous  Patrollotism  has  removed ;  but  can  it  re¬ 
move  the  lungs  of  man  ?  Anaxagoras  Chaumette  we  saw  * 
mounted  on  bourne-stones,  while  Tallien  worked  sedentary  at 
the  sub-editorial  desk.  In  any  corner  of  the  civilized  world, 
a  tub  can  be  inverted,  and  an  articulate-speaking  biped  mount 
thereon.  Nay,  with  contrivance,  a  portable  trestle,  or  folding- 
stool,  can  be  procured,  for  love  or  money  ;  this  the  peripatetic 


CLUBBISM. 


307 


Chap.  Y. 

1789-90. 

Orator  can  take  in  his  hand,  and,  driven  out  here,  set  it  up 
again  there:  saying  mildly,  with  a  Sage  Bias,  Omnia  mea 
mecum  porto. 

Such  is  J ournalism,  hawked,  pasted,  spoken.  How  changed 
since  One  old  Metra  walked  this  same  Tuileries  Garden,  in 
gilt  cocked-hat,  with  Journal  at  his  nose,  or  held  loose-folded 
behind  his  back ;  and  was  a  notability  of  Paris,  “  Metra  the 
Newsman  ;  ”  1  and  Louis  himself  was  wont  to  say  :  Qu’en  dit 
Metra?  Since  the  first  Venetian  News-sheet  was  sold  for  a 
gazza ,  or  farthing,  and  named  Gazette  !  We  live  in  a  fertile 
world. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CLUBBISM. 

Where  the  heart  is  full,  it  seeks,  for  a  thousand  reasons,  in 
a  thousand  ways,  to  impart  itself.  How  sweet,  indispensable, 
in  such  cases,  is  fellowship;  soul  mystically  strengthening 
soul !  The  meditative  Germans,  some  think,  have  been  of 
opinion  that  Enthusiasm  in  general  means  simply  excessive 
Congregating  —  Schicarmerey ,  or  Swarming.  At  any  rate,  do 
we  not  see  glimmering  half-red  embers,  if  laid  together ,  get 
into  the  brightest  white  glow  ? 

In  such  a  France,  gregarious  Reunions  will  needs  multiply, 
intensify ;  French  Life  will  step  out  of  doors,  and,  from  do¬ 
mestic,  become  a  public  Club  Life.  Old  Clubs,  which  already 
germinated,  grow  and  flourish;  new  everywhere  bud  forth. 
It  is  the  sure  symptom  of  Social  Unrest :  in  such  way,  most 
infallibly  of  all,  does  Social  Unrest  exhibit  itself ;  find  solace- 
ment,  and  also  nutriment.  In  every  French  head  there  hangs 
now,  whether  for  terror  or  for  hope,  some  prophetic  picture  of 
a  New  France :  prophecy  which  brings,  nay  which  almost  is, 
its  own  fulfilment;  and  in  all  ways,  consciously  and  uncon¬ 
sciously,  works  towards  that. 


1  Dulaure,  Histoire  de  Paris,  viii.  483.  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  &c. 


308  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

Observe,  moreover,  liow  the  Aggregative  Principle,  let  it  be 
but  deep  enough,  goes  on  aggregating,  and  this  even  in  a  geo¬ 
metrical  progression  ;  how  when  the  whole  world,  in  such 
a  plastic  time,  is  forming  itself  into  Clubs,  some  One  Club, 
the  strongest  or  luckiest,  shall  by  friendly  attracting,  by  vic¬ 
torious  compelling,  grow  ever  stronger,  till  it  become  im¬ 
measurably  strong;  and  all  the  others,  with  their  strength, 
be  either  lovingly  absorbed  into  it,  or  hostilely  abolished 
by  it.  This  if  the  Club-spirit  is  universal;  if  the  time 
is  plastic.  Plastic  enough  is  the  time,  universal  the  Club- 
spirit  :  such  an  all-absorbing,  paramount  One  Club  cannot  be 
wanting. 

What  a  progress,  since  the  first  salient-point  of  the  Breton 
Committee  !  It  worked  long  in  secret,  not  languidly ;  it  has 
come  with  the  National  Assembly  to  Paris ;  calls  itself  Club  ; 
calls  itself,  in  imitation,  as  is  thought,  of  those  generous  Price- 
Stanliope  English  who  sent  over  to  congratulate,  French  Revo¬ 
lution  Club  ;  but  soon,  with  more  originality,  Club  of  Friends 
of  the  Constitution.  Moreover  it  has  leased  for  itself,  at  a  fair 
rent,  the  Hall  of  the  Jacobins  Convent,  one  of  our  “super¬ 
fluous  edifices ;  ”  and  does  therefrom  now,  in  these  spring 
months,  begin  shining  out  on  an  admiring  Paris.  And  so,  by 
degrees,  under  the  shorter  popular  title  of  Jacobins  Club ,  it 
shall  become  memorable  to  all  times  and  lands.  Glance  into 
the  interior  :  strongly  yet  modestly  benched  and  seated ;  as 
many  as  Thirteen  Hundred  chosen  Patriots ;  Assembly  Mem¬ 
bers  not  a  few.  ’  Barnave,  the  two  Lameths  are  seen  there ; 
occasionally  Mirabeau,  perpetually  Robespierre  ;  also  the  fer¬ 
ret  visage  of  Fouquier-Tinville  with  other  attorneys;  Anachar- 
sis  of  Prussian  Scythia,  and  miscellaneous  Patriots,  —  though 
all  is  yet  in  the  most  perfectly  cleanwashed  state  ;  decent,  nay 
dignified.  President  on  platform,  President’s  bell  are  not 
wanting ;  oratorical  Tribune  high-raised ;  nor  strangers’  gal¬ 
leries,  wherein  also  sit  women.  Has  any  French  Antiquarian 
Society  preserved  that  written  Lease  of  the  Jacobins  Convent 
Hall  ?  Or  was  it,  unluckier  even  than  Magna  Charta,  clipt 
by  sacrilegious  Tailors  ?  Universal  History  is  not  indifferent 
to  it. 


CLUBBISM. 


309 


Chap.  V.  _ 

1789-90. 

These  Friends  of  the  Constitution  have  met  mainly,  as  their 
name  may  foreshadow,  to  look  after  Elections  when  an  Elec¬ 
tion  comes,  and  procure  fit  men :  but  likewise  to  consult  gen¬ 
erally  that  the  Commonweal  take  no  damage ;  one  as  yet  sees 
not  how.  For  indeed  let  two  or  three  gather  together  any¬ 
where,  if  it  be  not  in  Church,  where  all  are  bound  to  the  pas¬ 
sive  state  ;  no  mortal  can  say  accurately,  themselves  as  little 
as  any,  for  what  they  are  gathered.  How  often  has  the 
broached  barrel  proved  not  to  be  for  joy  and  heart-effusion, 
but  for  duel  and  head-breakage;  and  the  promised  feast  be¬ 
come  a  Feast  of  the  Lapithae !  This  Jacobins  Club,  which  at 
first  shone  resplendent,  and  was  thought  to  be  a  new  celestial 
Sun  for  enlightening  the  Nations,  had,  as  things  all  have,  to 
work  through  its  appointed  phases :  it  burned  unfortunately 
more  and  more  lurid,  more  sulphurous,  distracted ;  —  and  swam 
at  last,  through  the  astonished  Heaven,  like  a  Tartarean  Por¬ 
tent,  and  lurid-burning  Prison  of  Spirits  in  Pain. 

Its  style  of  eloquence  ?  Eejoice,  Eeader,  that  thou  knowest 
it  not,  that  thou  canst  never  perfectly  know.  The  Jacobins 
published  a  Journal  of  Debates,  where  they  that  have  the 
heart  may  examine :  impassioned,  dull-droning  Patriotic  elo¬ 
quence  ;  implacable,  unfertile  —  save  for  Destruction,  which 
was  indeed  its  work :  most  wearisome,  though  most  deadly. 
Be  thankful  that  Oblivion  covers  so  much ;  that  all  carrion  is 
by  and  by  buried  in  the  green  Earth’s  bosom,  and  even  makes 
her  grow  the  greener.  The  Jacobins  are  buried ;  but  their  work 
is  not ;  it  continues  “  making  the  tour  of  the  world,”  as  it  can. 
It  might  be  seen  lately,  for  instance,  with  bared  bosom  and 
death-defiant  eye,  as  far  on  as  Greek  Missolonghi  ;  strange 
enough,  old  slumbering  Hellas  was  resuscitated,  into  somnam¬ 
bulism  which  will  become  clear  wakefulness,  by  a  voice  from 
the  Eue  St.  Honore  !  All  dies,  as  we  often  say  ;  except  the 
spirit  of  man,  of  what  man  does.  Thus  has  not  the  very 
House  of  the  Jacobins  vanished :  scarcely  lingering  in  a  few 
old  men’s  memories  ?  The  St.  Honore  Market  has  brushed 
it  away,  and  now  where  dull-droning  eloquence,  like  a  Trump 
of  Doom,  once  shook  the  world,  there  is  pacific  chaffering  for 
poultry  and  greens.  The  sacred  National  Assembly  Hall 


310  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  Yin. 

1789-90. 

itself  has  become  common  ground ;  President’s  platform  per¬ 
meable  to  wain  and  dust-cart ;  for  the  Hue  de  Rivoli  runs  there. 
Verily,  at  Cockcrow  (of  this  Cock  or  the  other),  all  Appari¬ 
tions  do  melt  and  dissolve  in  space. 

The  Paris  Jacobins  became  “  the  Mother  Society,  Societe 
Mere  and  had  as  many  as  “  three  hundred”  slirill-tongued 
daughters  in  “  direct  correspondence  ”  with  her.  Of  indirectly 
corresponding,  what  we  may  call  granddaughters  and  minute 
progeny,  she  counted  “  forty-four  thousand  ”  !  —  But  for  the 
present  we  note  only  two  things :  the  first  of  them  a  mere 
anecdote.  One  night,  a  couple  of  brother  Jacobins  are  door¬ 
keepers  ;  for  the  members  take  this  post  of  duty  and  honor 
in  rotation,  and  admit  none  that  have  not  tickets :  one  door¬ 
keeper.  was  the  worthy  Sieur  Lais,  a  patriotic  Opera-singer, 
stricken  in  years,  whose  windpipe  is  long  since  closed  without 
result ;  the  other,  young,  and  named  Louis  Philippe,  D’Or- 
leans’s  first-born,  has  in  this  latter  time,  after  unheard-of 
destinies,  become  Citizen-King,  and  struggles  to  rule  for  a  sea* 
son.  All  flesh  is  grass ;  higher  reed-grass,  or  creeping  herb. 

The  second  thing  we  have  to  note  is  historical :  that  the 
Mother  Society,  even  in  this  its  effulgent  period,  cannot  con¬ 
tent  all  Patriots.  Already  it  must  throw  off,  so  to  speak, 
two  dissatisfied  swarms ;  a  swarm  to  the  right,  a  swarm  to 
the  left.  One  party,  which  thinks  the  Jacobins  lukewarm, 
constitutes  itself  into  Club  of  the  Cordeliers  ;  a  hotter  Club : 
it  is  Danton’s  element ;  with  whom  goes  Desmoulins.  The 
other  party,  again,  which  thinks  the  Jacobins  scalding-hot, 
flies  off  to  the  right,  and  becomes  “Club  of  1789,  Friends 
of  the  Monarchic  Constitution.”  They  are  afterwards  named 
“  Feuillans  Club  ;”  their  place  of  meeting  being  the  Veuillans 
Convent.  Lafayette  is,  or  becomes,  their  chief  man ;  sup¬ 
ported  by  the  respectable  Patriot  everywhere,  by  the  mass 
of  Property  and  Intelligence,  —  with  the  most  flourishing 
prospects.  They,  in  these  June  days  of  1790,  do,  in  the 
Palais  Royal,  dine  solemnly  with  open  windows ;  to  the 
cheers  of  the  people ;  with  toasts,  with  inspiriting  songs,  — 
with  one  song  at  least,  among  the  feeblest  ever  sung.1  They 

1  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  334. 


Chap.  VI.  JE  LE  JURE.  311 

February  4. 

shall,  in  due  time,  be  hooted  forth,  over  the  borders,  into 
Cimmerian  Night. 

Another  expressly  Monarchic  or  Royalist  Club,  “  Club  des 
Monarchiens though  a  Club  of  ample  funds,  and  all  sitting 
on  damask  sofas,  cannot  realize  the  smallest  momentary  cheer : 
realizes  only  scoffs  and  groans  ;  —  till,  ere  long,  certain  Pa¬ 
triots  in  disorderly  sufficient  number,  proceed  thither,  for  a 
night  or  for  nights,  and  groan  it  out  of  pain.  Vivacious 
alone  shall  the  Mother  Society  and  her  family  be.  The  very 
Cordeliers  may,  as  it  were,  return  into  her  bosom,  which  will 
have  grown  warm  enough. 

Fatal-looking !  Are  not  such  Societies  an  incipient  New 
Order  of  Society  itself  ?  The  Aggregative  Principle  anew 
at  work  in  a  Society  grown  obsolete,  cracked  asunder,  dissolv¬ 
ing  into  rubbish  and  primary  atoms  ? 

- ♦ - - 

CHAPTER  VI. 

JE  LE  JURE.  • 

With  these  signs  of  the  times,  is  it  not  surprising  that  the 
dominant  feeling  all  over  France  was  still  continually  Hope  ? 
0  blessed  Hope,  sole  boon  of  man :  whereby,  on  his  strait 
prison-walls,  are  painted  beautiful  far-stretching  landscapes ; 
and  into  the  night  of  very  Death  is  shed  holiest  dawn  !  Thou 
art  to  all  an  indefeasible  possession  in  this  God’s-world ;  to 
the  wise  a  sacred  Constantine’s-bauner,  written  on  the  eternal 
skies;  under  which  they  shall  conquer,  for  the  battle  itself 
is  victory :  to  the  foolish  some  secular  mirage,  or  shadow  of 
still  waters,  painted  on  the  parched  Earth ;  whereby  at  least 
their  dusty  pilgrimage,  if  devious,  becomes  cheerfuler,  becomes 
possible. 

In  the  death-tumults  of  a  sinking  Society,  French  Hope 
sees  only  the  birth-struggles  of  a  new  unspeakably  better 
Society ;  and  sings,  with  full  assurance  of  faith,  her  brisk 
Melody,  which  some  inspired  fiddler  has  in  these  very  days 


312  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1790. 

composed  for  her, — the  world-famous  Ca-ira.  Yes;  “that 
will  go  :  ”  and  then  there  will  come  —  ?  All  men  hope  ;  even 
Marat  hopes  —  that  Patriotism  will  take  muff  and  dirk.  King 
Louis  is  not  without  hope  :  in  the  chapter  of  chances ;  in  a 
flight  to  some  Bouille ;  in  getting  popularized  at  Paris.  But 
what  a  hoping  People  he  had,  judge  by  the  fact,  and  series 
of  facts,  now  to  be  noted. 

Poor  Louis,  meaning  the  best,  with  little  insight  and  even 
less  determination  of  his  own,  has  to  follow,  in  that  dim  way¬ 
faring  of  his,  such  signal  as  may  be  given  him  ;  by  back¬ 
stairs  Boyalism,  by  official  or  backstairs  Constitutionalism, 
whichever  for  the  month  may  have  convinced  the  royal  mind. 
If  flight  to  Bouille,  and  (horrible  to  think  !)  a  drawing  of  the 
civil  sword  do  hang  as  theory,  portentous  in  the  background, 
much  nearer  is  this  fact  of  these  Twelve  Hundred  Kings,  who 
sit  in  the  Salle  de  Manege.  Kings  uncontrollable  by  him,  not 
yet  irreverent  to  him.  Could  kind  management  of  these  but 
prosper,  how  much  better  were  it  than  armed  Emigrants, 
Turin  intrigues,  and  the  help  of  Austria !  Kay  are  the  two 
hopes  inconsistent  ?  Rides  in  the  suburbs,  we  have  found, 
cosj^ little ;  yet  they  always  brought  vivats.1  Still  cheaper  is 
a  soft  word ;  such  as  has  many  times  turned  away  wrath.  In 
these  rapid  days,  while  France  is  all  getting  divided  into 
Departments,  Clergy  about  to  be  remodelled,  Popular  Societies 
rising,  and  Feudalism  and  so  much  else  is  ready  to  be  hurled 
into  the  melting-pot,  —  might  not  one  try  ? 

On  the  4th  of  February,  accordingly,  M.  le  President  reads 
to  his  National  Assembly  a  short  autograph,  announcing  that 
his  Majesty  will  step  over,  quite  in  an  unceremonious  way,, 
probably  about  noon.  Think,  therefore,  Messieurs,  what  it 
may  mean ;  especially,  how  ye  will  get  the  Hall  decorated 
a  little.  The  Secretaries’  Bureau  can  be  shifted  down  from 
the  platform  ;  on  the  President’s  chair  be  slipped  this  cover 
of  velvet,  “  of  a  violet  color  sprigged  with  gold  fleur-de-lys  ;  ” 
—  for  indeed  M.  le  President  has  had  previous  notice  under¬ 
hand,  and  taken  counsel  with  Doctor  Guillotin.  Then  some 
fraction  of  “  velvet  carpet,”  of  like  texture  and  color,  cannot 

1  See  Bertrand-Moleville,  i.  241,  &c. 


fffWTf  $mr  r r  f r  ft r 

Chap.  vr.  JE  LE  JURE.  313 

February  4. 

that  be  spread  in  front  of  the  chair,  where  the  Secretaries 
usually  sit  ?  So  has  judicious  Guillotin  advised :  and  the 
effect  is  found  satisfactory.  Moreover,  as  it  is  probable  that 
his  Majesty,  in  spite  of  the  fleur-de-lys  velvet,  will  stand  and 
not  sit  at  all,  the  President  himself,  in  the  interim,  presides 
standing.  And  so,  while  some  honorable  Member  is  discussing, 
say,  the  division  of  a  Department,  Ushers  announce:  “His 
Majesty  !  ”  In  person,  with  small  suite,  enter  Majesty :  the 
honorable  Member  stops  short ;  the  Assembly  starts  to  its 
feet :  the  Twelve  Hundred  Kings  “  almost  all,”  and  the  Gal¬ 
leries  no  less,  do  welcome  the  Restorer  of  French  Liberty  with 
loyal  shouts.  His  Majesty’s  speech,  in  diluted  conventional 
phraseology, .  expresses  this  mainly  :  That  he,  most  of  all 
Frenchmen,  rejoices  to  see  France  getting  regenerated ;  is 
sure,  at  the  same  time,  that  they  will  deal  gently  with  her 
in  the  process,  and  not  regenerate  her  roughly.  Such  was  his 
Majesty’s  Speech ;  the  feat  he  performed  was  coming  to  speak 
it,  and  going  back  again. 

Surely,  except  to  a  very  hoping  People,  there  was  not  much 
here  to  build  upon.  Yet  what  did  they  not  build !  The  fact 
that  the  King  has  spoken,  that  he  has  voluntarily  come  to 
speak,  how  inexpressibly  encouraging!  Did  not  the  glance 
of  his  royal  countenance,  like  concentrated  sunbeams,  kindle 
all  hearts  in  an  august  Assembly ;  nay  thereby  in  an  inflamma¬ 
ble  enthusiastic  France  ?  To  move  “  Deputation  of  thanks  ” 
can  be  the  happy  lot  of  but  one  man-;  to  go  in  such  Deputation 
the  lot  of  not  many.  The  Deputed  have  gone,  and  returned 
with  what  highest-flown  compliment  they  could ;  whom  also 
the  Queen  met,  Dauphin  in  hand.  And  still  do  not  our  hearts 
burn  with  insatiable  gratitude ;  and  to  one  other  man  a  still 
higher  blessedness  suggests  itself :  To  move  that  we  all  renew 
the  National  Oath. 

Happiest  honorable  Member,  with  his  word  so  in  season 
as  word  seldom  was ;  magic  Fugleman  of  a  whole  National 
Assembly,  which  sat  there  bursting  to  do  somewhat ;  Fugle¬ 
man  of  a  whole  on-looking  France  !  The  President  swears  ; 
declares  that  every  one  shall  swear,  in  distinct  je  le  jure. 
Nay  the  very  Gallery  sends  him  down  a  written  slip  signed, 


314 


N 


i  *  u 

r.  / 


Yfigfn 

THE 


FEAST 


OF  PIKES. 


Book  VIII. 
1790. 


with  their  Oath  on  it ;  and  as  the  Assembly  now  casts  an  eye 
that  way,  the  Gallery  all  stands  up  and  swears  again.  And 
then  out  of  doors,  consider  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville  how  Bailly, 
the  great  Tennis-Court  swearer,  again  swears,  towards  night¬ 
fall,  with  all  the  Municipals,  and  Heads  of  Districts  assembled 
there.  And  “M.  Danton  suggests  that  the  public  would  like 
to  partake :  ”  whereupon  Bailly,  with  escort  of  Twelve,  steps 
forth  to  the  great  outer  staircase ;  sways  the  ebullient  multi¬ 
tude  with  stretched  hand;  takes  their  oath,  with  a  thunder 
of  “  rolling  drums,”  with  shouts  that  rend  the  welkin.  And 
on  all  streets  the  glad  people,  with  moisture  and  fire  in  their 
eyes,  “  spontaneously  formed  groups,  and  swore  one  another,”  1 
—  and  the  whole  City  was  illuminated.  This  was  the  Fourth 
of  February,  1790 ;  a  day  to  be  marked  white  in  Constitutional 
annals. 

Nor  is  the  illumination  for  a  night  only,  but  partially  or 
totally  it  lasts  a  series  of  nights.  For  each  District,  the  Elec¬ 
tors  of  each  District  will  swear  specially ;  and  always  as  the 
District  swears,  it  illuminates  itself.  Behold  them,  District 
after  District,  in  some  open  square,  where  the  Non-Electing 
People  can  all  see  and  join  :  with  their  uplifted  right-hands, 
and  je  le  jure  ;  with  rolling  drums,  with  embracings,  and  that 
infinite  hurrah  of  the  enfranchised,  —  which  any  tyrant  that 
there  may  be  can  consider !  Faithful  to  the  King,  to  the  Law, 
to  the  Constitution  which  the  National  Assembly  shall  make. 

Fancy,  for  example,  the  Professors  of  Universities  parading 
the  streets  with  their  young  France,  and  swearing,  in  an  en¬ 
thusiastic  manner,  not  without  tumult.  By  a  larger  exercise 
of  fancy,  expand  duly  this  little  word  :  The  like  was  repeated 
in  every  Town  and  District  in  France!  Nay  one  Patriot 
Mother,  in  Lagnon  of  Brittany,  assembles  her  ten  children  ; 
and,  with  her  own  aged  hand,  swears  them  all  herself,  the 
high-souled  venerable  woman.  Of  all  which,  moreover,  a  Na¬ 
tional  Assembly  must  be  eloquently  apprised.  Such  three 
weeks  of  swearing  !  Saw  the  Sun  ever  such  a  swearing  peo¬ 
ple  ?  Have  they  been  bit  by  a  swearing  tarantula  ?  No  :  but 
they  are  men  and  Frenchmen  ;  they  have  Hope;  and,  singular 

1  Newspapers  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iv.  445). 


PRODIGIES. 


315 


Chap.  VII. 

1789-90. 

to  say,  they  have  Faith,  were  it  only  in  the  Gospel  according 
to  Jean  Jacques.  0  my  Brothers,  would  to  Heaven  it  were 
even  as  ye  think  and  have  sworn  !  But  there  are  Lover’s 
Oaths,  which,  had  they  been  true  as  love  itself,  cannot  be 
kept;  not  to  speak  of  Dicer’s  Oaths,  also  a  known  sort. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PRODIGIES. 

To  such  length  had  the  Contrat  Social  brought  it,  in  believ¬ 
ing  hearts.  Man,  as  is  well  said,  lives  by  faith ;  each  genera¬ 
tion  has  its  own  faith,  more  or  less ;  and  laughs  at  the  faith  of 
its  predecessor,  —  most  unwisely.  Grant  indeed  that  this 
faith  in  the  Social  Contract  belongs  to  the  stranger  sorts  ;  that 
an  unborn  generation  may  very  wisely,  if  not  laugh,  yet  stare 
at  it,  and  piously  consider.  For,  alas,  what  is  Contrat  ?  If  all 
men  were  such  that  a  mere  spoken  or  sworn  Contract  would 
bind  them,  all  men  were  then  true  men,  and  Government  a 
superfluity.  Not  what  thou  and  I  have  promised  to  each 
other,  but  what  the  balance  of  our  forces  can  make  us  perform 
to  each  other :  that,  in  so  sinful  a  world  as  ours,  is  the  thing 
to  be  counted  on.  But  above  all,  a  People  and  a  Sovereign 
promising  to  one  another ;  as  if  a  whole  People,  changing  from 
generation  to  generation,  nay  from  hour  to  hour,  could  ever 
by  any  method  be  made  to  speak  or  promise;  and  to  speak 
mere  solecisms  :  “We,  be  the  Heavens  witness,  which  Heavens, 
however,  do  no  miracles  now ;  we,  ever-changing  Millions,  will 
allow  thee,  changeful  Unit,  to  force  us  or  govern  us !  ”  The 
world  has  perhaps  seen  few  faiths  comparable  to  that. 

So  nevertheless  had  the  world  then  construed  the  matter. 
Had  they  not  so  construed  it,  how  different  had  their  hopes 
been,  their  attempts,  their  results  !  But  so  and  not  otherwise 
did  the  Upper  Powers  will  it  to  be.  Freedom  by  social  Con¬ 
tract  :  such  was  verily  the  Gospel  of  that  Era.  And  all  men 


316  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

had  believed  in  it,  as  in  a  Heaven’s  Glad-tidings  men  should ; 
and  with  overflowing  heart  and  uplifted  voice  clave  to  it,  and 
stood  fronting  Time  and  Eternity  on  it.  Nay  smile  not;  or 
only  with  a  smile  sadder  than  tears  !  This  too  was  a  better 
faith  than  the  one  it  had  replaced  ;  than  faith  merely  in  the 
Everlasting  Nothing  and  man’s  Digestive  Power ;  lower  than 
which  no  faith  can  go. 

Not  that  such  universally  prevalent,  universally  jurant, 
feeling  of  Hope  could  be  a  unanimous  one.  Ear  from  that. 
The  time  was  ominous :  social  dissolution  near  and  certain ; 
social  renovation  still  a  problem,  difficult  and  distant,  even 
though  sure.  But  if  ominous  to  some  clearest  on-looker, 
whose  faith  stood  not  with  the  one  side  or  with  the  other, 
nor  in  the  ever-vexed  jarring  of  Greek  with  Greek  at  all,  — 
how  unspeakably  ominous  to  dim  Royalist  participators ;  for 
whom  Royalism  was  Mankind’s  palladium:  for  whom,  with 
the  abolition  of  Most-Christian  Kingship  and  Most-Talleyrand 
Bishopship,  all  loyal  obedience,  all  religious  faith  was.  to  ex¬ 
pire,  and  final  Night  envelop  the  Destinies  of  Man !  On 
serious  hearts,  of  that  persuasion,  the  matter  sinks  down 
deep ;  prompting,  as  we  have  seen,  to  backstairs  plots,  to 
Emigration  with  pledge  of  war,  to  Monarchic  Clubs ;  nay  to 
still  madder  things. 

The  Spirit  of  Prophecy,  for  instance,  had  been  considered 
extinct  for  some  centuries  :  nevertheless  these  last-times,  as 
indeed  is  the  tendency  of  last-times,  do  revive  it ;  that  so,  of 
French  mad  things,  we  might  have  sample  also  of  the  mad¬ 
dest.  In  remote  rural  districts,  whither  Philosophism  has 
not  yet  radiated,  where  a  heterodox  Constitution  of  the  Clergy 
is  bringing  strife  round  the  altar  itself,  and  the  very  Church- 
bells  are  getting  melted  into  small  money-coin,  it  appears 
probable  that  the  End  of  the  World  cannot  be  far  off.  Deep- 
musing  artrabiliar  old  men,  especially  old  women,  hint  in  an 
obscure  way  that  they  know  what  they  know.  The  Holy 
Virgin,  silent  so  long,  has  not  gone  dumb  ;  —  and  truly  now, 
if  ever  more  in  this  world,  were  the  time  for  her  to  speak. 
One  Prophetess,  though  careless  Historians  have  omitted  her 


Chap.  VII. 

1789-90. 

name,  condition  and  whereabout,  becomes  audible  to  the  gen¬ 
eral  ear ;  credible  to  not  a  few ;  credible  to  Friar  Gerle,  poor 
Patriot  Chartreux,  in  the  National  Assembly  itself!  She, 
in  Pythoness  recitative,  with  wild-staring  eye,  sings  that 
there  shall  be  a  Sign ;  that  the  heavenly  Sun  himself  will 
hang  out  a  Sign,  or  Mock-Sun,  —  which,  many  say,  shall  be 
stamped  with  the  Head  of  hanged  Favras.  List,  Dom  Gerle, 
with  that  poor  addled  poll  of  thine ;  list,  oh,  list  ;  —  and  hear 
nothing.1 

Notable,  however,  was  that  “magnetic  vellum,  velin  mag- 
netique ,”  of  the  Sieurs  d’Hozier  and  Petit- Jean,  Parlementeers 
of  Rouen.  Sweet  young  D’Hozier,  “bred  in  the  faith  of  his 
Missal,  and  of  parchment  genealogies,”  and  of  parchment 
generally;  adust,  melancholic,  middle-aged  Petit- Jean :  why 
came  these  two  to  Saint-Cloud,  where  his  Majesty  was  hunt¬ 
ing,  on  the  festival  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul;  and  waited 
there,  in  antechambers,  a  wonder  to  whispering  Swiss,  the 
livelong  day ;  and  even  waited  without  the  Grates,  when 
turned  out ;  and  had  dismissed  their  valets  to  Paris,  as  with 
purpose  of  endless  waiting  ?  They  have  a  magnetic  vellum , 
these  two ;  whereon  the  Virgin,  wonderfully  clothing  herself 
in  Mesmerean  Cagliostric  Occult-Philosophy,  has  inspired 
them  to  jot  down  instructions  and  predictions  for  a  much- 
straitened  King.  To  whom,  by  Higher  Order,  they  will  this 
day  present  it ;  and  save  the  Monarchy  and  World.  Unac¬ 
countable  pair  of  visual-objects !  Ye  should  be  men,  and  of 
the  Eighteenth  Century;  but  your  magnetic  vellum  forbids 
us  so  to  interpret.  Say,  are  ye  aught  ?  Thus  ask  the  Guard¬ 
house  Captains,  the  Mayor  of  Saint-Cloud ;  nay,  at  great 
length,  thus  asks  the  Committee  of  Researches,  and  not  the 
Municipal,  but  the  National  Assembly  one.  No  distinct  an¬ 
swer,  for  weeks.  At  last  it  becomes  plain  that  the  right 
answer  is  negative .  Go,  ye  Chimeras,  with  your  magnetic 
vellum ;  sweet  young  Chimera,  adust  middle-aged  one !  The 
Prison-doors  are  open.  Hardly  again  shall  ye  preside  the 
Rouen  Chamber  of  Accounts ;  but  vanish  obscurely  into 
Limbo.2 


firm' 

PRODIGIES. 


is  nr  {/i !  i  mu  iii 


317 


1  Deux  Amis,  v.  7. 


2  See  Deux  Amis,  v.  199. 


f  I 


318 


uiji 


/.  IV/. 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  VIII. 
1789-90. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND  COVENANT. 

Such  dim  masses,  and  specks  of  even  deepest  black,  work 
in  that  white-hot  glow  of  the  French  mind,  now  wholly  in 
fusion  and  confusion.  Old  women  here  swearing  their  ten 
children  on  the  new  Evangel  of  Jean  Jacques ;  old  women 
there  looking  up  for  Favras’  Heads  in  the  celestial  Luminary : 
these  are  preternatural  signs,  prefiguring  somewhat. 

In  fact,  to  the  Patriot  children  of  Hope  themselves  it  is 
undeniable  that  difficulties  exist :  emigrating  Seigneurs  ;  Par- 
lements  in  sneaking  but  most  malicious  mutiny  (though  the 
rope  is  round  their  neck) ;  above  all,  the  most  decided  “  de¬ 
ficiency  of  grains.”  Sorrowful ;  but,  to  a  Nation  that  hopes, 
not  irremediable.  To  a  Nation  which  is  in  fusion  and  ardent 
communion  of  thought ;  which,  for  example,  on  signal  of  one 
Fugleman,  will  lift  its  right-hand  like  a  drilled  regiment,  and 
swear  and  illuminate,  till  every  village  from  Ardennes  to 
the  Pyrenees  has  rolled  its  village-drum,  and  sent  up  its 
little  oath,  and  glimmer  of  tallow-illumination  some  fathoms 
into  the  reign  of  Night ! 

If  grains  are  defective,  the  fault  is  not  of  Nature  or  Na¬ 
tional  Assembly,  but  of  Art  and  Anti-National  Intriguers. 
Such  malign  individuals,  of  the  scoundrel  species,  have  power 
to  vex  us,  while  the  Constitution  is  a-making.  Endure  it,  ye 
heroic  Patriots  :  nay  rather,  why  not  cure  it  ?  Grains  do 
grow,  they  lie  extant  there  in  sheaf  or  sack ;  only  that  re¬ 
graters  and  Royalist  plotters,  to  provoke  the  People  into  ille¬ 
gality,  obstruct  the  transport  of  grains.  Quick,  ye  organized 
Patriot  Authorities,  armed  National  Guards,  meet  together; 
unite  your  good-will;  in  union  is  tenfold  strength:  let  the 
concentred  flash  of  your  Patriotism  strike  stealthy  Scoun- 
drelism  blind,  paralytic,  as  with  a  coup  de  soleil. 


CHAP.vnL  SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND  COVENANT.  319 

1/89-90. 

Under  which,  hat  or  nightcap  of  the  Twenty-five  Millions, 
this  pregnant  Idea  first  arose,  for  in  some  one  head  it  did 
rise,  no  man  can  now  say.  A  most  small  idea,  near  at  hand 
for  the  whole  world :  but  a  living  one,  fit ;  and  which  waxed, 
whether  into  greatness  or  not,  into  immeasurable  size.  When 
a  Nation  is  in  this  state  that  the  Fugleman  can  operate  on 
it,  what  will  the  word  in  season,  the  act  in  season,  not  do ! 
It  will  grow  verily,  like  the  Boy’s  Bean,  in  the  Fairy-Tale, 
heaven-high,  with  habitations  and  adventures  on  it,  in  one 
night.  It  is  nevertheless  unfortunately  still  a  Bean  (for  your 
long-lived  Oak  grows  not  so) ;  and  the  next  night,  it  may  lie 
felled,  horizontal,  trodden  into  common  mud.  —  But  remark, 
at  least,  how  natural  to  any  agitated  Nation,  which  has  Faith, 
this  business  of  Covenanting  is,  The  Scotch,  believing  in  a 
righteous  Heaven  above  them,  and  also  in  a  Gospel  far  other 
than  the  Jean-Jacques  one,  swore,  in  their  extreme  need,  a 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  —  as  Brothers  on  the  forlorn- 
hope,  and  imminence  of  battle,  who  embrace,  looking  godward : 
and  got  the  whole  Isle  to  swear  it :  and  even,  in  their  tough 
Old-Saxon  Hebrew-Presbyterian  way,  to  keep  it  more  or  less ; 
—  for  the  thing,  as  such  things  are,  was  heard  in  Heaven  and 
partially  ratified  there :  neither  is  it  yet  dead,  if  thou  wilt 
look,  nor  like  to  die.  The  French  too,  with  their  Gallic-Ethnic 
excitability  and  effervescence,  have,  as  we  have  seen,  real 
Faith,  of  a  sort ;  they  are  hard  bested,  though  in  the  middle 
of  Hope  :  a  National  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  there  may 
be  in  France  too ;  under  how  different  conditions ;  with  how 
different  development  and  issue  ! 

Note,  accordingly,  the  small  commencement ;  first  spark 
of  a  mighty  fire-work :  for  if  the  particular  hat  cannot  be  fixed 
upon,  the  particular  District  can.  On  the  29th  day  of  last 
November,  were  National  Guards  by  the  thousand  seen  filing, 
from  far  and  near,  with  military  music,  with  Municipal  officers 
in  tricolor  sashes,  towards  and  along  the  Bhone-stream,  to  the 
little  town  of  Etoile.  There  with  ceremonial  evolution  and 
♦  manoeuvre,  with  fanfaronading,  musketry  salvos,  and  what 
else  the  Patriot  genius  could  devise,  they  made  oath  and  ob¬ 
testation  to  stand  faithfully  by  one  another,  under  Law  and 


820  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1789-90. 

King;  in  particular,  to  have  all  manner  of  grains,  while 
grains  there  were,  freely  circulated,  in  spite  both  of  robber 
and  regrater.  This  was  the  meeting  of  Etoile,  in  the  mild 
end  of  November,  1789. 

But  now,  if  a  mere  empty  Beview,  followed  by  Beview- 
dinner,  ball,  and  such  gesticulation  and  flirtation  as  there  may 
be,  interests  the  happy  County-town,  and  makes  it  the  envy 
of  surrounding  County-towns,  how  much  more  might  this  ! 
In  a  fortnight,  larger  Montelimart,  half  ashamed  of  itself, 
will  do  as  good,  and  better.  On  the  plain  of  Montelimart, 
or  what  is  equally  sonorous,  “under  the  Walls  of  Monteli¬ 
mart/’  the  13th  of  December  sees  new  gathering  and  obtesta¬ 
tion  ;  six  thousand  strong ;  and  now  indeed,  with  these  three 
remarkable  improvements,  as  unanimously  resolved  on  there. 
First,  that  the  men  of  Montelimart  do  federate  with  the 
already  federated  men  of  Etoile.  Second,  that,  implying  not 
expressing  the  circulation  of  grain,  they  “swear  in  the  face 
of  God  and  their  Country”  with  much  more  emphasis  and 
comprehensiveness,  “to  obey  all  decrees  of  the  National 
Assembly,  and  see  them  obeyed,  till  death,  jusqu’a  la  mort .” 
Third,  and  most  important,  that  official  record  of  all  this  be 
solemnly  delivered  in,  to  the  National  Assembly,  to  M.  de 
Lafayette,  and  “  to  the  Bestorer  of  French  Liberty ;  ”  who 
shall  all  take  what  comfort  from  it  they  can.  Thus  does 
larger  Montelimart  vindicate  its  Patriot  importance,  and  main¬ 
tain  its  rank  in  the  municipal  scale.1 

And  so,  with  the  New-year,  the  signal  is  hoisted :  for  is 
not  a  National  Assembly,  and  solemn  deliverance  there,  at 
lowest  a  National  Telegraph  ?  Not  only  grain  shall  circulate, 
while  there  is  grain,  on  highways  or  the  Bhone-waters,  over 
all  that  Southeastern  region,  —  where  also  if  Monseigneur 
d’ Artois  saw  good  to  break  in  from  Turin,  hot  welcome  might 
await  him;  but  whatsoever  Province  of  France  is  straitened 
for  grain,  or  vexed  with  a  mutinous  Parlement,  unconstitu¬ 
tional  plotters,  Monarchic  Clubs,  or  any  other  Patriot  ailment, 
can  go  and  do  likewise,  or  even  do  better.  And  now,  espe- . 
cially,  when  the  February  swearing  has  set  them  all  agog! 

1  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  4. 


321 


Chap.  VIII.  SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND  COVENANT. 

1789-90. 

From  Brittany  to  Burgundy,  on  most  Plains  of  Prance,  under 
most  City-walls,  it  is  a  blaring  of  trumpets,  waving  of  banners, 
a  Constitutional  manoeuvring :  under  the  vernal  skies,  while 
Nature  too  is  putting  forth  her  green  Hopes,  under  bright 
sunshine  defaced  by  the  stormful  East;  like  Patriotism  vic¬ 
torious,  though  with  difficulty,  over  Aristocracy  and  defect  of 
grain !  There  march  and  constitutionally  wheel,  to  the  ga-ira- 
ing  mood  of  fife  and  drum,  under  their  tricolor  Municipals, 
our  clear-gleaming  Phalanxes ;  or  halt,  with  uplifted  right- 
hand,  and  artillery  salvos  that  imitate  Jove’s  thunder;  and 
all  the  Country,  and  metaphorically  all  “the  Universe,”  is 
looking  on.  Wholly,  in  their  best  apparel,  brave  men,  and 
beautifully  dizened  women,  most  of  whom  have  lovers  there ; 
swearing,  by  the  eternal  Heavens  and  this  green-growing  all¬ 
nutritive  Earth,  that  Prance  is  free  ! 

Sweetest  days,  when  (astonishing  to  say)  mortals  have 
actually  met  together  in  communion  and  fellowship ;  and 
man,  were  it  only  once  through  long  despicable  centuries,  is 
for  moments  verily  the  brother  of  man !  —  And  then  the  Dep¬ 
utations  to  the  National  Assembly,  with  high-flown  descrip¬ 
tive  harangue ;  to  M.  de  Lafayette,  and  the  Bestorer ;  very 
frequently  moreover  to  the  Mother  of  Patriotism,  sitting  on 
her  stout  benches  in  that  Hall  of  the  Jacobins  !  The  general 
ear  is  filled  with  Federation.  New  names  of  Patriots  emerge, 
which  shall  one  day  become  familiar :  Boyer-Fonfrede  elo¬ 
quent  denunciator  of  a  rebellious  Bordeaux  Parlement ;  Max 
Isnard  eloquent  reporter  of  the  Federation  of  Draguignan; 
eloquent  pair,  separated  by  the  whole  breadth  of  France,  who 
are  nevertheless  to  meet.  Ever  wider  burns  the  flame  of 
Federation ;  ever  wider  and  also  brighter.  Thus  the  Brittany 
and  Anjou  brethren  mention  a  Fraternity  of  all  true  French¬ 
men  ;  and  go  the  length  of  invoking  “  perdition  and  death  ” 
on  any  renegade :  moreover,  if  in  their  National-Assembly 
harangue,  they  glance  plaintively  at  the  marc  d’ argent  which 
makes  so  many  citizens  passive,  they,  over  in  the  Mother- 
Society,  ask,  being  henceforth  themselves  “neither  Bretons 
nor  Angevins  but  French,”  Why  all  France  has  not  one 
Federation,  and  universal  Oath  of  Brotherhood,  once  for 

21 


VOL.  III. 


322 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  VIII. 
1790. 


all  ? 1  A  most  pertinent  suggestion ;  dating  from  the  end  of 
March.  Which  pertinent  suggestion  the  whole  Patriot  world 
cannot  but  catch,  and  reverberate  and  agitate  till  it  become 
loud ;  which  in  that  case  the  Town-hall  Municipals  had  bet¬ 
ter  take  up,  and  meditate. 

Some  universal  F ederation  seems  inevitable :  the  Where  is 
given;  clearly  Paris:  only  the  When,  the  How?  These  also 
productive  Time  will  give ;  is  already  giving.  For  always  as 
the  Federative  work  goes  on,  it  perfects  itself,  and  Patriot 
genius  adds  contribution  after  contribution.  Thus,  at  Lyons, 
in  the  end  of  the  May  month,  we  behold  as  many  as  fifty,  or 
some  say  sixty  thousand,  met  to  federate  ;  and  a  multitude 
looking  on,  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  number.  From 
dawn  to  dusk!  For  our  Lyons  Guardsmen  took  rank,  at  five 
in  the  bright  dewy  morning ;  came  pouring  in,  bright-gleaming, 
to  the  Quai  de  Rhone,  to  march  thence  to  the  Federation- 
field  ;  amid  wavings  of  hats  and  lady-handkerchiefs ;  glad 
shoutings  of  some  two  hundred  thousand  Patriot  voices  and 
hearts ;  the  beautiful  and  brave  !  Among  whom,  courting  no 
notice,  and  yet  the  notablest  of  all,  what  queenlike  Figure  is 
this ;  with  her  escort  of  house-friends  and  Champagneux  the 
Patriot  Editor ;  come  abroad  with  the  earliest  ?  Radiant 
with  enthusiasm  are  those  dark  eyes,  is  that  strong  Minerva- 
face,  looking  dignity  and  earnest  joy;  joyfulest  she  where 
all  are  joyful.  It  is  Roland  de  la  Platriere’s  Wife ! 2  Strict 
elderly  Roland,  King’s  Inspector  of  Manufactures  here ;  and 
now  likewise,  by  popular  choice,  the  strictest  of  our  new  Lyons 
Municipals :  a  man  who  has  gained  much,  if  worth  and  faculty 
be  gain;  but,  above  all  things,  has  gained  to  wife  Phlipon 
the  Paris  Engraver’s  daughter.  Reader,  mark  that  queenlike 
burgher-woman :  beautiful,  Amazonian-graceful  to  the  eye ; 
more  so  to  the  mind.  Unconscious  of  her  worth  (as  all  worth 
is),  of  her  greatness,  of  her  crystal  clearness ;  genuine,  the 
creature  of  Sincerity  and  Nature,  in  an  age  of  Artificiality, 
Pollution  and  Cant ;  there,  in  her  still  completeness,  in  her 
still  invincibility,  she,  if  thou  knew  it,  is  the  noblest  of  all 

1  Reports,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  122-147). 

2  Madame  Roland,  M€moires,  i.  (Discours  Preliminaire,  p.  23). 


Chap.  VIII.  SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND  COVENANT.  323 

May. 

living  Frenchwomen,  — and  will  be  seen,  one  day.  Oh,  blessed 
rather  while  zmseen,  even  of  herself !  For  the  present  she 
gazes,  nothing  doubting,  into  this  grand  theatricality;  and 
thinks  her  young  dreams  are  to  be  fulfilled. 

From  dawn  to  dusk,  as  we  said,  it  lasts ;  and  truly  a  sight 
like  few.  Flourishes  of  drums  and  trumpets  are  something : 
but  think  of  an  u  artificial  Bock  fifty  feet  high,”  all  cut  into 
crag-steps,  not  without  the  similitude  of  “  shrubs  ”  !  The  inte¬ 
rior  cavity  —  for  in  sooth  it  is  made  of  deal  —  stands  solemn, 
a  “  Temple  of  Concord :  ”  on  the  outer  summit  rises  “  a  Statue 
of  Liberty,”  colossal,  seen  for  miles,  with  her  Pike  and  Phry¬ 
gian  Cap,  and  civic  column;  at  her  feet  a  Country’s  Altar, 
“  Autel  de  la  Patrie :  ”  —  on  all  which  neither  deal-timber  nor 
lath-and-plaster,  with  paint  of  various  colors,  has  been  spared. 
But  fancy  then  the  banners  all  placed  on  the  steps  of  the 
Eock ;  high  mass  chanted ;  and  the  civic  oath  of  fifty  thou¬ 
sand  :  with  what  volcanic  outburst  of  sound  from  iron  and 
other  throats,  enough  to  frighten  back  the  very  Saone  and 
Ehone  ;  and  how  the  brightest  fire-works,  and  balls,  and  even 
repasts  closed  in  that  night  of  the  gods  ! 1  And  so  the  Lyons 
Federation  vanishes  too,  swallowed  of  darkness ;  —  and  yet 
not  wholly,  for  our  brave  fair  Eoland  was  there  ;  also  she, 
though  in  the  deepest  privacy,  writes  her  Narrative  of  it  in 
Champagneux’s  Courrier  de  Lyons  ;  a  piece  which  “  circulates 
to  the  extent  of  sixty  thousand ;  ”  which  one  would  like  now 
to  read. 

But  on  the  whole,  Paris,  we  may  see,  will  have  little  to 
devise  ;  will  only  have  to  borrow  and  apply.  And  then  as  to 
the  day,  what  day  of  all  the  calendar  is  fit,  if  the  Bastille 
Anniversary  be  not  ?  The  particular  spot  too,  it  is  easy  to 
see,  must  be  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  where  many  a  Julian  the 
Apostate  has  been  lifted  on  bucklers,  to  France’s  or  the  world’s 
sovereignty;  and  iron  Franks,  loud-clanging,  have  responded 
to  the  voice  of  a  Charlemagne ;  and  from  of  old  mere  sublimi¬ 
ties  have  been  familiar. 


1  Hist.  Pari.  xii.  274. 


324 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  VIII. 
179Q 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SYMBOLIC. 

How  natural,  in  all  decisive  circumstances,  is  Symbolic 
Representation  to  all  kinds  of  'men !  Nay,  what  is  man’s 
whole  terrestrial  Life  but  a  Symbolic  Representation,  and 
making  visible,  of  the  Celestial  invisible  Force  that  is  in  him  ?  ■ 
By  act  and  word  he  strives  to  do  it ;  with  sincerity,  if  pos¬ 
sible  ;  failing  that,  with  theatricality,  which  latter  also  may 
have  its  meaning.  An  Almacks  Masquerade  is  not  nothing ; 
in  more  genial  ages,  your  Christmas  Guisings,  Feasts  of  the 
Ass,  Abbots  of  Unreason,  were  a  considerable  something: 
sincere  sport  they  were ;  as  Almacks  may  still  be  sincere 
wish  for  sport.  But  what,  on  the  other  hand,  must  not  sin¬ 
cere  earnest  have  been;  say,  a  Hebrew  Feast  of  Tabernacles 
have  been !  A  whole  Nation  gathered,  in  the  name  of  the 
Highest,  under  the  eye  of  the  Highest;  Imagination  herself 
flagging  under  the  reality;  and  all  noblest  Ceremony  as  yet 
not  grown  ceremonial,  but  solemn,  significant  to  the  outmost 
fringe  !  Neither,  in  modern  private  life,  are  theatrical  scenes, 
of  tearful  women  wetting  whole  ells  of  cambric  in  concert,  of 
impassioned  bushy-whiskered  youth  threatening  suicide,  and 
such  like,  to  be  so  entirely  detested :  drop  thou  a  tear  over 
them  thyself  rather. 

At  any  rate,  one  can  remark  that  no  Nation  will  throw  by 
its  work,  and  deliberately  go  out  to  make  a  scene,  without 
meaning  something  thereby.  For  indeed  no  scenic  individual, 
with  knavish  hypocritical  views,  will  take  the  trouble  to  solilo¬ 
quize  a  scene  :  and  now  consider,  is  not  a  scenic  Nation  placed 
precisely  in  that  predicament  of  soliloquizing;  for  its  own 
behoof  alone ;  to  solace  its  own  sensibilities,  maudlin  or  other  ? 
—  Yet  in  this  respect,  of  readiness  for  scenes,  the  difference 
of  Nations,  as  of  men,  is  very  great.  If  our  Saxon  Puritanic 


Chap.  IX.  SYMBOLIC.  325 

1790. 

friends,  for  example,  swore  and  signed  their  National  Cove¬ 
nant,  without  discharge  of  gunpowder,  or  the  beating  of  any 
drum,  in  a  dingy  Covenant-Close  of  the  Edinburgh  High-street, 
in  a  mean  room,  where  men  now  drink  mean  liquor,  it  was 
consistent  with  their  ways  so  to  swear  it.  Our  Gallic-Ency¬ 
clopedic  friends,  again,  must  have  a  Champ-de-Mars,  seen  of 
all  the  world,  or  universe  ;  and  such  a  Scenic  Exhibition,  to 
which  the  Coliseum  Amphitheatre  was  but  a  strollers’  barn, 
as  this  old  Globe  of  ours  had  never  or  hardly  ever  beheld. 
Which  method  also  we  reckon  natural,  then  and  there.  Nor 
perhaps  was  the  respective  keeping  of  these  two  Oaths  far  out 
of  due  proportion  to  such  respective  display  in  taking  them : 
inverse  proportion,  namely.  Eor  the  theatricality  of  a  People 
goes  in  a  compound  ratio :  ratio  indeed  of  their  trustfulness, 
sociability,  fervency ;  but  then  also  of  their  excitability,  of  their 
porosity,  not  continent ;  or  say,  of  their  explosiveness,  hot-flash¬ 
ing,  but  which  does  not  last. 

How  true  also,  once  more,  is  it  that  no  man  or  Nation  of 
men,  conscious  of  doing  a  great  thing,  was  ever,  in  that  thing, 
doing  other  than  a  small  one  !  0  Champ-de-Mars  Federation, 

with  three  hundred  drummers,  twelve  hundred  wind-musicians, 
and  artillery  planted  on  height  after  height  to  boom  the  tid¬ 
ings  of  it  all  over  France,  in  few  minutes  !  Could  no  Atheist- 
Naigeon  contrive  to  discern,  eighteen  centuries  off,  those 
Thirteen  most  poor  mean-dressed  men,  at  frugal  Supper,  in 
a  mean  Jewish  dwelling,  with  no  symbol  but  hearts  god- 
initiated  into  the  “  Divine  depth  of  Sorrow,”  and  a  Do  this 
in  remembrance  of  me ;  —  and  so  cease  that  small  difficult 
crowing  of  his,  if  he  were  not  doomed  to  it  ? 


326 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  YIII. 
1790. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MANKIND. 

Pardonable  are  human  theatricalities ;  nay,  perhaps  touch¬ 
ing,  like  the  passionate  utterance  of  a  tongue  which  with  sin¬ 
cerity  stammers  j  of  a  head  which  with  insincerity  babbles,  — 
having  gone  distracted.  Yet,  in  comparison  with  unpremedi¬ 
tated  outbursts  of  Nature,  such  as  an  Insurrection  of  Women, 
how  foisonless,  unedifying,  undelightful ;  like  small  ale  palled, 
like  an  effervescence  that  has  effervesced  !  Such  scenes,  com¬ 
ing  of  forethought,  were  they  world-great,  and  never  so  cun¬ 
ningly  devised,  are  at  bottom  mainly  pasteboard  and  paint. 
But  the  others  are  original  ;  emitted  from  the  great  ever- 
living  heart  of  Nature  herself  :  what  figure  they  will  as¬ 
sume  is  unspeakably  significant.  To  us,  therefore,  let  the 
French  National  Solemn  League  and  Federation  be  the  high¬ 
est  recorded  triumph  of  the  Thespian  Art :  triumphant  surely, 
since  the  whole  Pit,  which  was  of  Twenty-five  Millions,  not 
only  clap  hands,  but  does  itself  spring  on  the  boards  and 
passionately  set  to  playing  there.  And  being  such,  be  it 
treated  as  such :  with  sincere  cursory  admiration ;  with  won¬ 
der  from  afar.  A  whole  Nation  gone  mumming  deserves  so 
much ;  but  deserves  not  that  loving  minuteness  a  Menadic 
Insurrection  did.  Much  more  let  prior,  and  as  it  were  re¬ 
hearsal  scenes  of  Federation  come  and  go,  henceforward,  as 
they  list ;  and,  on  Plains  and  under  City-walls,  innumerable 
regimental  bands  blare  off  into  the  Inane,  without  note 
from  us. 

One  scene,  however,  the  hastiest  reader  will  momentarily 
pause  on  :  that  of  Anaeharsis  Clootz  and  the  Collective  sinful 
Posterity  of  Adam.  —  For  a  Patriot  Municipality  has  now,  on 
the  4th  of  June,  got  its  plan  concocted,  and  got  it  sanctioned 
by  National  Assembly;  a  Patriot  King  assenting;  to  whom, 
were  he  even  free  to  dissent,  Federative  harangues,  overflow- 


Chap.  X.  MANKIND.  327 

1790. 

ing  witli  loyalty,  have  doubtless  a  transient  sweetness.  There 
shall  come  Deputed  National  Guards,  so  many  in  the  hundred, 
from  each  of  the  Eighty -three  Departments  of  France.  Like¬ 
wise  from  all  naval  and  military  King’s  Forces  shall  Deputed 
quotas  come;  such  Federation  of  National  with  Koyal  Soldier 
has,  taking  place  spontaneously,  been  already  seen  and  sanc¬ 
tioned.  For  the  rest,  it  is  hoped,  as  many  as  forty  thousand 
may  arrive :  expenses  to  be  borne  by  the  Deputing  District ; 
of  all  which  let  District  and  Department  take  thought,  and 
elect  fit  men,  —  whom  the  Paris  brethren  will  fly  to  meet  and 
welcome.  . 

Now,  therefore,  judge  if  our  Patriot  Artists  are  busy;  taking 
deep  counsel  how  to  make  the  Scene  worthy  of  a  look  from 
the  Universe  !  As  many  as  fifteen  thousand  men,  spademen, 
barrowmen,  stonebuilders,  rammers,  with  their  engineers,  are 
at  work  on  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  hollowing  it  out  into  a 
National  Amphitheatre,  fit  for  such  solemnity.  For  one  may 
hope  it  will  be  annual  and  perennial  ;  a  “  Feast  of  Pikes, 
Fete  des  Piques”  notablest  among  the  high-tides  of  the  year  : 
in  any  case,  ought  not  a  scenic  Free  Nation  to  have  some  per¬ 
manent  National  Amphitheatre  ?  The  Champ-de-Mars  is  get¬ 
ting  hollowed  out ;  and  the  daily  talk  and  the  nightly  dream 
in  most  Parisian  heads  is  of  Federation  and  that  only.  Fed¬ 
erate  Deputies  are  already  under  way.  National  Assembly, 
what  with  its  natural  work,  what  with  hearing  and  answering 
harangues  of  these  Federates,  of  this  Federation,  will  have 
enough  to  do  !  Harangue  of  “  American  Committee,”  among 
whom  is  that  faint  figure  of  Paul  Jones  as  “  with  the  stars 
dim-twinkling  through  it,”  —  come  to  congratulate  us  on  the 
prospect  of  such  auspicious  day.  Harangue  of  Bastille  Con¬ 
querors,  come  to  “  renounce  ”  any  special  recompense,  any 
peculiar  place  at  the  solemnity; — since  the  Centre  Grenadiers 
rather  grumble.  Harangue  of  “  Tennis-Court  Club,”  who 
enter  with  far-gleaming  Brass-plate,  aloft  on  a  pole,  and  the 
Tennis-Court  Oath  engraved  thereon  ;  which  far-gleaming 
Brass-plate  they  purpose  to  affix  solemnly  in  the  Versailles 
original  locality,  on  the  20th  of  this  month,  which  is  the  anni¬ 
versary,  as  a  deathless  memorial,  for  some  years  :  they  will 


328  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1790. 

then  dine,  as  they  come  back,  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne ; 1  — 
cannot,  however,  do  it  without  apprising  the  world.  To  such 
things  does  the  august  National  Assembly  ever  and  anon 
cheerfully  listen,  suspending  its  regenerative  labors  ;  and  with 
some  touch  of  impromptu  eloquence,  make  friendly  reply ;  — 
as  indeed  the  wont  has  long  been ;  for  it  is  a  gesticulating, 
sympathetic  People,  and  has  a  heart,  and  wears  it  on  its 
sleeve. 

In  which  circumstances,  it  occurred  to  the  mind  of  Ana- 
charsis  Clootz,  that  while  so  much  was  embodying  itself  into 
Club  or  Committee,  and  perorating  applauded,  there  yet  re¬ 
mained  a  greater  and  greatest ;  of  which,  if  it  also  took  body 
and  perorated,  what  might  not  the  effect  be :  Humankind 
namely,  le  Genre  Humain  itself !  In  what  rapt  creative  mo¬ 
ment  the  Thought  rose  in  Anacharsis’s  soul  ;  all  his  throes, 
while  he  went  about  giving  shape  and  birth  to  it ;  how  he 
was  sneered  at  by  cold  worldlings ;  but  did  sneer  again,  being 
a  man  of  polished  sarcasm ;  and  moved  to  and  fro  persuasive 
in  coffee-house  and  soiree,  and  dived  down  assiduous-obscure 
in  the  great  deep  of  Paris,  making  his  Thought  a  Fact :  of 
all  this  the  spiritual  biographies  of  that  period  say  nothing. 
Enough  that  on  the  19th  evening  of  June,  1790,  the  sun’s 
slant  rays  lighted  a  spectacle  such  as  our  foolish  little  Planet 
has  not  often  had  to  show :  Anacharsis  Clootz  entering  the 
august  Salle  de  Manege,  with  the  Human  Species  at  his  heels. 
Swedes,  Spaniards,  Polacks  ;  Turks,  Chaldeans,  Greeks,  dwell¬ 
ers  in  Mesopotamia  ;  behold  them  all ;  they  have  come  to 
claim  place  in  the  grand  Federation,  having  an  undoubted 
interest  in  it. 

“  Our  Ambassador  titles,”  said  the  fervid  Clootz,  “  are  not 
written  on  parchment,  but  on  the  living  hearts  of  all  men.” 
These  whiskered  Polacks,  long-flowing  turbaned  Ishmaelites, 
astrological  Chaldeans,  who  stand  so  mute  here,  let  them 
plead  with  you,  august  Senators,  more  eloquently  than  elo¬ 
quence  could.  They  are  the  mute  representatives  of  their 
tongue-tied,  befettered,  heavy-laden  Nations  ;  who  from  out  of 
that  dark  bewilderment  gaze  wistful,  amazed,  with  half-incredu- 
1  See  Deux  Amis,  v.  122 ;  Hist.  Pad.  &c. 


MANKIND. 


329 


Chap.  X. 
June  19. 


lous  hope,  towards  you,  and  this  your  bright  light  of  a  Drench 
Federation :  bright  particular  daystar,  the  herald  of  universal 
day.  We  claim  to  stand  there,  as  mute  monuments,  patheti¬ 
cally  adumbrative  of  much.  —  From  bench  and  gallery  comes 
“  repeated  applause ;  ”  for  what  august  Senator  but  is  flat¬ 
tered  even  by  the  very  shadow  of  Human  Species  depending 
on  him  ?  From  President  Sieyes,  who  presides  this  remark¬ 
able  fortnight,  in  spite  of  his  small  voice,  there  comes  elo¬ 
quent  though  shrill  reply.  Anacharsis  and  the  “  Foreigners 
Committee  ”  shall  have  place  at  the  Federation ;  on  condition 
of  telling  their  respective  Peoples  what  they  see  there.  In 
the  mean  time,  we  invite  them  to  the  “honors  of  the  sitting, 
Jionneur  de  la  seance .”  A  long-flowing  Turk,  for  rejoinder, 
bows  vTith  Eastern  solemnity,  and  utters  articulate  sounds : 
but  owing  to  his  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  French  dialect,1 
his  words  are  like  spilt  water ;  the  thought  he  had  in  him 
remains  conjectural  to  this  day. 

Anacharsis  and  Mankind  accept  the  honors  of  the  sitting; 
and  have  forthwith,  as  the  old  Newspapers  still  testify,  the 
satisfaction  to  see  several  things.  First  and  chief,  on  the 
motion  of  Lameth,  Lafayette,  Saint-Fargeau  and  other  Pa¬ 
triot  Nobles,  let  the  others  repugn  as  they  will :  all  Titles  of 
Nobility,  from  Duke  to  Esquire,  or  lower,  are  henceforth 
abolished.  Then,  in  like  manner,  Livery  Servants,  or  rather 
the  Livery  of  Servants.  Neither,  for  the  future,  shall  any 
man  or  woman,  self-styled  noble,  be  “incensed,” — foolishly 
fumigated  with  incense,  in  Church  ;  as  the  wont  has  been.  In 
a  word,  Feudalism  being  dead  these  ten  months,  why  should 
her  empty  trappings  and  scutcheons  survive  ?  The  very 
Coats-of-arms  will  require  to  be  obliterated ;  —  and  yet  Cassan- 
dra-Marat  on  this  and  the  other  coach-panel  notices  that  they 
“  are  but  painted  over,”  and  threaten  to  peer  through  again. 

So  that  henceforth  De  Lafayette  is  but  the  Sieur  Motier, 
and  Saint-Fargeau  is  plain  Michel  Lepelletier ;  and  Mirabeau 
soon  after  has  to  say  huffingly,  “  With  your  Riquetti  you  have 
set  Europe  at  cross-purposes  for  three  days.”  For  his  Count- 
hood  is  not  indifferent  to  this  man ;  which  indeed  the  admiring 
1  Moniteur,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xii.  283). 


330  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1790. 

People  treat  him  with  to  the  last.  But  let  extreme  Patriot¬ 
ism  rejoice,  and  chiefly  Anacharsis  and  Mankind ;  for  now  it 
seems  to  be  taken  for  granted  that  one  Adam  is  Father  of 
us  all !  — 

Such  was,  in  historical  accuracy,  the  famed  feat  of  Ana¬ 
charsis.  Thus  did  the  most  extensive  of  Public  Bodies  find 
a  sort  of  spokesman.  Whereby  at  least  we  may  judge  of  one 
thing  :  what  a  humor  the  once  sniffing  mocking  City  of  Paris 
and  Baron  Clootz  had  got  into  ;  when  such  exhibition  could 
appear  a  propriety,  next  door  to  a  sublimity.  It  is  true,  Envy 
did,  in  after-times,  pervert  this  success  of  Anacharsis ;  making 
him,  from  incidental  “  Speaker  of  the  Foreign-Nations  Com¬ 
mittee/’  claim  to  be  official  permanent  “Speaker,  Orateur ,  of 
the  Human  Species,”  which  he  only  deserved  to  be ;  and 
alleging,  calumniously,  that  his  astrological  Chaldeans,  and 
the  rest,  were  a  mere  French  tagrag-and-bobtail  disguised  for 
the  nonce ;  and,  in  short,  sneering  and  fleering  at  him  in  her 
cold  barren  way  :  all  which  however,  he,  the  man  he  was, 
could  receive  on  thick  enough  panoply,  or  even  rebound  there¬ 
from,  and  also  go  his  way. 

Most  extensive,  of  Public  Bodies,  we  may  call  it ;  and  also 
the  most  unexpected :  for  who  could  have  thought  to  see  All 
Nations  in  the  Tuileries  Riding-Hall  ?  But  so  it  is ;  and 
truly  as  strange  things  may  happen  when  a  whole  People 
goes  mumming  and  miming.  Hast  not  thou  thyself  perchance 
seen  diademed  Cleopatra,  daughter  of  the  Ptolemies,  pleading, 
almost  with  bended  knee,  in  unheroic  tea-parlor,  or  dim-lit 
retail-shop,  to  inflexible  gross  Burghal  Dignitary,  for  leave  to 
reign  and  die  ;  being  dressed  for  it,  and  moneyless,  with  small 
children ;  —  while  suddenly  Constables  have  shut  the  Thespian 
barn,  and  her  Antony  pleaded  in  vain  ?  Such  visual  spectra 
flit  across  this  Earth,  if  the  Thespian  Stage  be  rudely  inter¬ 
fered  with :  but  much  more,  when,  as  was  said,  Pit  jumps  on 
Stage,  then  is  it  verily,  as  in  Herr  Tieck’s  Drama,  a  Verkehrte 
Welt,  or  World  Topsy-turvied  ! 

Having  seen  the  Human  Species  itself,  to  have  seen  the 
“  Dean  of  the  Human  Species  ”  ceased  now  to  be  a  miracle. 


Chap.  XI. 
June. 


AS  IN  THE  AGE  OF  GOLD. 


831 


Such  “  Doyen  du  Genre  Humain,  Eldest  of  Men/’  had  shown 
himself  there,  in  these  weeks  :  Jean  Claude  Jacob,  a  born 
Serf,  deputed  from  his  native  Jura  Mountains  to  thank  the 
National  Assembly  for  enfranchising  them.  On  his  bleached 
worn  face  are  ploughed  the  furro wings  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  years.  He  has  heard  dim  patois-tvlk,  of  immortal 
Grand-Monarch  victories ;  of  a  burned  Palatinate,  as  he  toiled 
and  moiled  to  make  a  little  speck  of  this  Earth  greener  ;  of 
Cevennes  Dragoonings ;  of  Marlborough  going  to  the  war. 
Four  generations  have  bloomed  out,  and  loved  and  hated, 
and  rustled  off :  he  was  forty-six  when  Louis  Fourteenth 
died.  The  Assembly,  as  one  man,- spontaneously  rose,  and  did 
reverence  to  the  Eldest  of  the  World;  old  Jean  is  to  take 
seance  among  them,  honorably,  with  covered  head.  He  gazes 
feebly  there,  with  his  old  eyes,  on  that  new  wonder-scene  ; 
dreamlike  to  him,  and  uncertain,  wavering  amid  fragments  of 
old  memories  and  dreams.  For  Time  is  all  growing  unsub¬ 
stantial,  dreamlike;  Jean’s  eyes  and  mind  are  weary,  and 
about  to  close,  —  and  open  on  a  far  other  wonder-scene,  which 
shall  be  real.  Patriot  Subscription,  Eoyal  Pension,  was  got 
for  him,  and  he  returned  home  'glad  ;  but  in  two  months  more 
he  left  it  all,  and  went  on  his  unknown  way.1 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

AS  IN"  THE  AGE  OF  GOLD. 

Meanwhile  to  Paris,  ever  going  and  returning,  day  after 
day,  and  all  day  long,  towards  that  Field  of  Mars,  it  becomes 
painfully  apparent  that  the  spade-work  there  cannot  be  got 
done  in  time.  There  is  such  an  area  of  it ;  three  hundred 
thousand  square  feet :  for  from  the  Ecole  Militaire  (which 
will  need  to  be  done  up  in  wood  with  balconies  and  galleries) 
westward  to  the  Gate  by  the  Eiver  (where  also  shall  be  wood, 
in  triumphal  arches),  we  count  some  thousand  yards  of  length  r* 

1  Deux  Amis ,  iv.  3. 


332  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1790. 

and  for  breadth,  from  this  umbrageous  Avenue  of  eight  rows, 
on  the  South  side,  to  that  corresponding  one  on  the  North, 
some  thousand  feet  more  or  less.  All  this  to  be  scooped  out, 
and  wheeled  up  in  slope  along  the  sides  ;  high  enough  ;  for  it 
must  be  rammed  down  there,  and  shaped  stair-wise  into  as 
many  as  “  thirty  ranges  of  convenient  seats,”  firm-trimmed 
with  turf,  covered  with  enduring  timber;  —  and  then  our  huge 
pyramidal  Fatherland’s- Altar,  Autel  de  la  Patrie,  in  the  centre, 
also  to  be  raised  and  stair-stepped.  Force-work  with  a  ven¬ 
geance  ;  it  is  a  World’s  Amphitheatre  !  There  are  but  fifteen 
days  good :  and  at  this  languid  rate,  it  might  take  half  as 
many  weeks.  What  is  singular  too,  the  spademen  seem  to 
work  lazily;  they  will  not  work  double-tides,  even  for  offer 
of  more  wages,  though  their  tide  is  but  seven  hours ;  they 
declare  angrily  that  the  human  tabernacle  requires  occasional 
rest ! 

Is  it  Aristocrats  secretly  bribing  ?  Aristocrats  were  capable 
of  that.  Only  six  months  since,  did  not  evidence  get  afloat 
that  subterranean  Paris  —  for  we  stand  over  quarries  and  cata¬ 
combs,  dangerously,  as  it  were  midway  between  Heaven  and 
the  Abyss,  and  are  hollow  underground  —  was  charged  with 
gunpowder,  which  should  make  us  “  leap  ”  ?  Till  a  Corde¬ 
liers  Deputation  actually  went  to  examine,  and  found  it  — 
carried  off  again  ! 1  An  accursed,  incurable  brood ;  all  asking 
for  “passports,”  in  these  sacred  days.  Trouble,  of  rioting, 
chateau-burning,  is  in  the  Limousin  and  elsewhere  ;  for  they 
are  busy !  Between  the  best  of  Peoples  and  the  best  of  Be- 
storer  Kings  they  would  sow  grudges ;  wdth  what  a  fiend’s 
grin  would  they  see  this  Federation,  looked  for  by  the  Uni¬ 
verse,  fail! 

Fail  for  want  of  spade-work,  however,  it  shall  not.  He  that 
has  four  limbs  and  a  French  heart  can  do  spade-work;  and 
will!  On  the  first  July  Monday,  scarcely  has  the  signal- 
cannon  boomed;  scarcely  have  the  languescent  mercenary 
Fifteen  Thousand  laid  down  their  tools,  and  the  eyes  of  on¬ 
lookers  turned  sorrowfully  to  the  still  high  Sun;  when  this 
1  23d  December,  1789  (Newspapers  in  Hist.  Pari.  iv.  44). 


333 


Chap.  XI.  AS  IN  THE  AGE  OF  GOLD. 

July  1. 

and  the  other  Patriot,  fire  in  his  eye,  snatches  barrow  and 
mattock,  and  himself  begins  indignantly  wheeling.  Whom 
scores  and  then  hundreds  follow ;  and  soon  a  volunteer  Fifteen 
Thousand  are  shovelling  and  trundling;  with  the  heart  of 
giants :  and  all  in  right  order,  with  that  extemporaneous 
adroitness  of  theirs :  whereby  such  a  lift  has  been  given, 
worth  three  mercenary  ones  ;  —  which  may  end  when  the  late 
twilight  thickens,  in  triumph-shouts,  heard  or  heard  of  beyond 
Montmartre ! 

A  sympathetic  population  will  wait,  next  day,  with  eagerness, 
till  the  tools  are  free.  Or  why  wait  ?  Spades  elsewhere  exist ! 
And  so  now  bursts  forth  that  effulgence  of  Parisian  enthusi¬ 
asm,  good-heartedness  and  brotherly  love ;  such,  if  Chroniclers 
are  trustworthy,  as  was  not  witnessed  since  the  Age  of  Gold. 
Paris,  male  and  female,  precipitates  itself  towards  its  South¬ 
west  extremity,  spade  on  shoulder.  Streams  of  men,  without 
order ;  or  in  order,  as  ranked  fellow-craftsmen,  as  natural  or 
accidental  reunions,  march  towards  the  Field  of  Mars.  Three- 
deep  these  inarch ;  to  the  sound  of  stringed  music ;  preceded 
by  young  girls  with  green  boughs  and  tricolor  streamers  :  they 
have  shouldered,  soldier-wise,  their  shovels  and  picks ;  and 
with  one  throat  are  singing  ga-ira.  Yes,  gpardieu  ga-ira,  cry 
the  passengers  on  the  streets.  All  corporate  Guilds,  and  public 
and  private  Bodies  of  Citizens,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest, 
march ;  the  very  Hawkers,  one  finds,  have  ceased  bawling  for 
one  day.  The  neighboring  Villages  turn  out :  their  able  men 
come  marching,  to  village  fiddle  or  tambourine  and  triangle, 
under  their  Mayor,  or  Mayor  and  Curate,  who  also  walk  be- 
spaded,  and  in  tricolor  sash.  As  many  as  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  workers ;  nay  at  certain  seasons,  as  some  count, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand;  for,  in  the  afternoon  esp> 
cially,  what  mortal  but,  finishing  his  hasty  day’s  work,  would 
run !  A  stirring  City :  from  the  time  you  reach  the  Place 
Louis-Quinze,  southward  over  the  Eiver,  by  all  Avenues,  it  is 
one  living  throng.  So  many  workers ;  and  no  mercenary 
mock-workers,  but  real  ones  that  lie  freely  to  it:  each  Patriot 
stretches  himself  against  the  stubborn  glebe ;  hews  and  wheels 
with  the  whole  weight  that  is  in  him. 


334  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1790. 

Amiable  infants,  aimables  enfans  !  They  do  the  “ police  de 
V atelier  ”  too,  the  guidance  and  governance,  themselves  ;  with 
that  ready  will  of  theirs,  with  that  extemporaneous  adroitness. 
It  is  a  true  brethren’s  work ;  all  distinctions  confounded,  abol¬ 
ished  ;  as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  when  Adam  himself  delved. 
Long-f rocked  tonsured  Monks,  with  short-skirted  Water-car¬ 
riers,  with  swallow-tailed  well-frizzled  Incroyables  of  a  Pa¬ 
triot  turn ;  dark  Charcoal-men,  meal-white  Peruke-makers ;  or 
Peruke-wearers,  for  Advocate  and  Judge  are  there,  and  all 
Heads  of  Districts :  sober  Nuns  sister-like  with  flaunting 
Nymphs  of  the  Opera,  and  females  in  common  circumstances 
named  unfortunate :  the  patriot  Rag-picker,  and  perfumed 
dweller  in  palaces  ;  for  Patriotism,  like  New-birth,  and  also 
like  Death,  levels  all.  The  Printers  have  come  marching, 
Prudhomme’s  all  in  Paper-caps  with  Revolutions  de  Paris 
printed  on  them ;  —  as  Camille  notes ;  wishing  that  in  these 
great  days  there  should  be  a  Pacte  des  Pcrivains  too,  or  Federar 
tion  of  Able  Editors.1  Beautiful  to  see  !  The  snowy  linen 
and  delicate  pantaloon  alternates  with  the  soiled  check-shirt 
and  bushel-breeches ;  for  both  have  cast  their  coats,  and  under 
both  are  four  limbs  and  a  set  of  Patriot  muscles.  There  do 
they  pick  and  shovel ;  or  bend  forward,  yoked  in  long  strings 
to  box-barrow  or  overloaded  tumbril ;  joyous,  with  one  mind. 
Abb4  Sieyes  is  seen  pulling,  wiry,  vehement,  if  too  light  for 
draught ;  by  the  side  of  Beauharnais,  who  shall  get  Kings 
though  he  be  none.  Abbe  Maury  did  not  pull ;  but  the  Char¬ 
coal-men  brought  a  mummer  guised  like  him,  and  he  had  to 
pull  in  effigy.  Let  no  august  Senator  disdain  the  work: 
Mayor  Bailly,  Generalissimo  Lafayette  are  there  ;  —  and,  alas, 
shall  be  there  again  another  day !  The  King  himself  comes 
to  see :  sky-rending  Vive-le-roi !  “  and  suddenly  with  shoul¬ 
dered  spades  they  form  a  guard  of  honor  round  him.”  Who¬ 
soever  can  come  comes;  to  work,  or  to  look,  and  bless  the 
work. 

Whole  families  have  come.  One  whole  family  we  see  clearly 
of  three  generations  :  the  father  picking,  the  mother  shovel¬ 
ling,  the  young  ones  wheeling  assiduous  ;  old  grandfather,  hoary 
1  See  Newspapers,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  381-406). 


Chap.  XI.  AS  IN  THE  AGE  OF  GOLD.  335 

July. 

with  ninety -three  years,  holds  in  his  arms  the  youngest  of  all : 1 
frisky,  not  helpful  this  one ;  who  nevertheless  may  tell  it  to 
his  grandchildren;  and  how  the  Future  and  the  Past  alike 
looked  on,  and  with  failing  or  with  half-formed  voice,  faltered 
thek  ga-ira.  A  vintner  has  wheeled  in,  on  Patriot  truck, 
beverage  of  wine  :  “  Drink  not,  my  brothers,  if  ye  are  not 
thirsty ;  that  your  cask  may  last  the  longer  :  ”  neither  did  any 
drink  but  men  “  evidently  exhausted.”  A  dapper  Abbe  looks 
on,  sneering :  “  To  the  barrow  !  ”  cry  several ;  whom  he,  lest  a 
worse  thing  befall  him,  obeys  :  nevertheless  one  wiser  Patriot 
barrowman,  arriving  now,  interposes  his  “ arretez /”  setting 
down  his  own  barrow,  he  snatches  the  Abbe’s  ;  trundles  it  fast, 
like  an  infected  thing,  forth  of  the  Champ-de-Mars  circuit,  and 
discharges  it  there.  Thus  too  a  certain  person  (of  some  quality, 
or  private  capital,  to  appearance),  entering  hastily,  flings  down 
his  coat,  waistcoat  and  two  watches,  and  is  rushing  to  the  thick 
of  the  work :  “  But  your  watches  ?  ”  cries  the  general  voice.  — 
“  Does  one  distrust  his  brothers  ?  ”  answers  he ;  nor  were  the 
watches  stolen.  How  beautiful  is  noble  sentiment :  like  gossa¬ 
mer  gauze,  beautiful  and  cheap ;  which  will  stand  no  tear  and 
wear !  Beautiful  cheap  gossamer  gauze,  thou  film-shadow  of 
a  raw-material  of  Virtue,  which  art  not  woven,  nor  likely  to  be, 
into  Duty  ;  thou  art  better  than  nothing,  and  also  worse ! 

Young  Boarding-school  Boys,  College  Students,  shout  Vive 
la  Nation ,  and  regret  that  they  have  yet  “only  their  sweat 
to  give.”  What  say  we  of  Boys  ?  Beautifulest  Hebes ;  the 
loveliest  of  Paris,  in  their  light  air-robes,  with  ribbon-girdle 
of  tricolor,  are  there  ;  shovelling  and  wheeling  with  the  rest ; 
their  Hebe  eyes  brighter  with  enthusiasm,  and  long  hair  in 
beautiful  dishevelment ;  broad-pressed  are  their  small  fingers  ; 
but  they  make  the  patriot  barrow  go,  and  even  force  it  to  the 
summit  of  the  slope  (with  a  little  tracing,  which  what  man’s 
arm  were  not  too  happy  to  lend  ?)  —  then  bound  down  with  it 
again,  and  go  for  more  ;  with  their  long  locks  and  tricolors 
blown  back ;  graceful  as  the  rosy  Hours.  Oh,  as  that  evening 
Sun  fell  over  the  Champ-de-Mars,  and  tinted  with  fire  the 
thick  umbrageous  boscage  that  shelters  it  on  this  hand  and 

1  Mercier,  ii.  76,  &c. 


336 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  YIIL 
17U0. 

on  that,  and  struck  direct  on  those  Domes  and  two-and-forty 
Windows  of  the  Ecole  Militaire,  and  made  them  all  of  burn¬ 
ished  gold,  —  saw  he  on  his  wide  zodiac  road  other  such  sight  ? 
A  living  garden  spotted  and  dotted  with  such  flowerage  ;  all 
colors  of  the  prism ;  the  beautifulest  blent  friendly  with  the 
usefulest;  all  growing  and  working  brother-like  there  under 
one  warm  feeling,  were  it  but  for  days ;  once  and  no  second 
time  !  But  Night  is  sinking;  these  Nights,  too,  into  Eternity. 
The  hastiest  traveller  Versailles-ward  has  drawn  bridle  on  the 
heights  of  Chaillot :  and  looked  for  moments  over  the  River  ; 
reporting  at  Versailles  what  he  saw,  not  without  tears.1 


Meanwhile,  from  all  points  of  the  compass,  Federates  are 
arriving :  fervid  children  of  the  South,  “  who  glory  in  their 
Mirabeau;”  considerate  North-blooded  Mountaineers  of  Jura; 
sharp  Bretons,  with  their  Gaelic  suddenness ;  Normans,  not 
to  be  overreached  in  bargain :  all  now  animated  with  one 
noblest  fire  of  Patriotism.  Whom  the  Paris  brethren  march 
forth  to  receive ;  with  military  solemnities,  with  fraternal 
embracing,  and  a  hospitality  worthy  of  the  heroic  ages. 
They  assist  at  the  Assembly’s  Debates,  these  Federates  ;  the 
Galleries  are  reserved  for  them.  They  assist  in  the  toils  of 
the  Champ-de-Mars ;  each  new  troop  will  put  its  hand  to  the 
spade;  lift  a  hod  of  earth  on  the  Altar  of  the  Fatherland. 
But  the  flourishes  of  rhetoric,  for  it  is  a  gesticulating  People ; 
the  moral-sublime  of  those  Addresses  to  an  august  Assembly, 
to  a  Patriot  Restorer !  Our  Breton  Captain  of  Federates 
kneels  even,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  and  gives  up  his  sword ; 
he  wet-eyed  to  a  King  wet-eyed.  Poor  Louis  !  These,  as  he 
said  afterwards,  were  among  the  bright  days  of  his  life. 

Reviews  also  there  must  be ;  royal  Federate-reviews,  with 
King,  Queen  and  tricolor  Court  looking  on  :  at  lowest,  if,  as 
is  too  common,  it  rains,  our  Federate  Volunteers  will  file 
through  the  inner  gateways,  Royalty  standing  dry.  Nay 
there,  should  some  stop  occur,  the  beautifulest  fingers  in 
France  may  take  you  softly  by  the  lapelle,  and,  in  mild  flute- 
voice,  ask :  “  Monsieur,  of  what  Province  are  you  ?  ”  Happy 

1  Mercier,  ii.  81. 


Chap.  XII.  SOUND  AND  SMOKE.  337 

July  13. 

he  who  can  reply,  chivalrously  lowering  his  sword’s  point, 
“Madame,  from  the  Province  your  ancestors  reigned  over.” 
He  that  happy  “  Provincial  Advocate,”  now  Provincial  Feder¬ 
ate,  shall  be  rewarded  by  a  sun-smile,  and  such  melodious  glad 
wrords  addressed  to  a  King :  “  Sire,  these  are  your  faithful 
Lorrainers.”  Cheerier  verily,  in  these  holidays,  is  this  te  sky- 
blue  faced  with  red”  of  a  National  Guardsman,  than  the  dull 
black  and  gray  of  a  Provincial  Advocate,  which  in  work-days 
one  was  used  to.  For  the  same  thrice-blessed  Lorrainer  shall, 
this  evening,  stand  sentry  at  a  Queen’s  door ;  and  feel  that  he 
could  die  a  thousand  deaths  for  her:  then  again,  at  the  outer 
gate,  and  even  a  third  time,  she  shall  see  him ;  nay  he  will 
make  her  do  it ;  presenting  arms  with  emphasis,  “  making  his 
musket  jingle  again :  ”  and  in  her  salute  there  shall  again  be 
a  sun-smile,  and  that  little  blonde-locked  too  hasty  Dauphin 
shall  be  admonished,  “  Salute,  then,  Monsieur ;  don’t  be  un- 
polite ;  ”  and  therewith  she,  like  a  bright  Sky-wanderer  or 
Planet  with  her  little  Moon,  issues  forth  peculiar.1 

But  at  night,  when  Patriot  spade-work  is  over,  figure  the 
sacred  rites  of  hospitality  !  Lepelletier  Saint-Far geau,  a  mere 
private  senator,  but  with  great  possessions,  has  daily  his 
“  hundred  dinner-guests  :  ”  the  table  of  Generalissimo  Lafay¬ 
ette  may  double  that  number.  In  lowly  parlor,  as  in  lofty 
saloon,  the  wine-cup  passes  round ;  crowned  by  the  smiles  of 
Beauty ;  be  it  of  lightly  tripping  Grisette  or  of  high-sailing 
Dame,  for  both  equally  have  beauty,  and  smiles  precious  to 
the  brave. 

•  - ♦ - 

CHAPTEB  XII. 

SOUND  AND  SMOKE. 

And  so  now,  in  spite  of  plotting  Aristocrats,  lazy  hired 
spademen,  and  almost  of  Destiny  itself  (for  there  has  been 
much  rain  too),  the  Champ-de-Mars,  on  the  13th  of  the  month, 
is  fairly  ready  ;  trimmed,  rammed,  buttressed  with  firm  ma- 

1  Narrative  by  a  Lorraine  Federate  (given  in  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  389-391). 
vol.  hi.  22 


338 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  VIII. 

1790. 

sonry ;  and  Patriotism  can  stroll  over  it  admiring ;  and  as  it 
were  rehearsing,  for  in  every  head  is  some  unutterable  image 
of  the  morrow.  Pray  Heaven  there  be  not  clouds.  Nay  what 
far  worse  cloud  is  this,  of  a  misguided  Municipality  that  talks 
of  admitting  Patriotism  to  the  solemnity  by  tickets  !  Was  it 
by  tickets  we  were  admitted  to  the  work ;  and  to  what  brought 
the  work  ?  Did  we  take  the  Bastille  by  tickets  ?  A  mis¬ 
guided  Municipality  sees  the  error ;  at  late  midnight,  rolling 
drums  announce  to  Patriotism  starting  half  out  of  its  bed¬ 
clothes,  that  it  is  to  be  ticketless.  Pull  down  thy  nightcap 
therefore ;  and,  with  demi-articulate  grumble,  significant  of 
several  things,  go  pacified  to  sleep  again.  To-morrow  is 
Wednesday  morning;  unforgettable  among  the  fasti  of  the 
world. 


The  morning  comes,  cold  for  a  July  one ;  but  such  a  festiv¬ 
ity  would  make  Greenland  smile.  Through  every  inlet  of  that 
National  Amphitheatre  (for  it  is  a  league  in  circuit,  cut  with 
openings  at  due  intervals),  floods  in  the  living  throng;  covers, 
without  tumult,  space  after  space.  The  Ecole  Militaire  has 
galleries  and  overvaulting  canopies,  wherein  Carpentry  and 
Painting  have  vied,  for  the  Upper  Authorities ;  triumphal 
arches,  at  the  Gate  by  the  Fiver,  bear  inscriptions,  if  weak, 
yet  well-meant  and  orthodox.  Far  aloft,  over  the  Altar  of 
the  Fatherland,  on  their  tall  crane  standards  of  iron,  swing 
pensile  our  antique  Cassolettes  or  Pans  of  Incense  ;  dispensing 
sweet  incense-fumes,  —  unless  for  the  Heathen  Mythology, 
one  sees  not  for  whom.  Two  hundred  thousand  Patriotic 
Men ;  and,  twice  as  good,  one  hundred  thousand  Patriotic 
Women,  all  decked  and  glorified  as  one  can  fancy,  sit  waiting 
in  this  Champ-de-Mars. 

What  a  picture :  that  circle  of  bright-dyed  Life,  spread  up 
there,  on  its  thirty-seated  Slope  ;  leaning,  one  would  say,  on 
the  thick  umbrage  of  those  Avenue-Trees,  for  the  stems  of 
them  are  hidden  by  the  height ;  and  all  beyond  it  mere  green¬ 
ness  of  Summer  Earth,  with  the  gleams  of  waters,  or  white 
sparklings  of  stone  edifices  :  little  circular  enamel-picture  in 
the  centre  of  such  a  vase  —  of  emerald  !  A  vase  not  empty  : 


Chap.  XII.  SOUND  AND  SMOKE.  339 

July  14. 

the  Invalides  Cupolas  want  not  their  population,  nor  the  distant 
Windmills  of  Montmartre  ;  on  remotest  steeple  and  invisible 
village  belfry  stand  men  with  spy-glasses.  On  the  heights  of 
Chaillot  are  many-colored  undulating  groups  ;  round  and  far 
on,  over  all  the  circling  heights  that  embosom  Paris,  it  is  as 
one  more  or  less  peopled  Amphitheatre ;  which  the  eye  grows 
dim  with  measuring.  Nay  heights,  as  was  before  hinted, 
have  cannon ;  and  a  floating  battery  of  cannon  is  on  the  Seine. 
When  eye  fails,  ear  shall  serve  ;  and  all  France  properly  is  but 
one  Amphitheatre  ;  for  in  paved  town  and  unpaved  hamlet 
men  walk  listening  ;  till  the  muffled  thunder  sound  audible  on 
their  horizon,  that  they  too  may  begin  swearing  and  firing  ! 1 
But  now,  to  streams  of  music,  come  Federates  enough,  — 
for  they  have  assembled  on  the  Boulevard  Saint-Antoine  or 
thereby,  and  come  marching  through  the  City,  with  their 
Eighty-tliree  Department  Banners,  and  blessings  not  loud  but 
deep ;  comes  National  Assembly,  and  takes  seat  under  its 
Canopy ;  comes  Boyalty,  and  takes  seat  on  a  throne  beside  it. 
And  Lafayette,  on  white  charger,  is  here,  and  all  the  civic 
Functionaries  ;  and  the  Federates  form  dances,  till  their  strictly 
military  evolutions  and  manoeuvres  can  begin. 

Evolutions  and  manoeuvres  ?  Task  not  the  pen  of  mortal  to 
describe  them  :  truant  imagination  droops ;  —  declares  that  it 
is  not  worth  while.  There  is  wheeling  and  sweeping,  to  slow, 
to  quick  and  double-quick  time  :  Sieur  Motier,  or  General¬ 
issimo  Lafayette,  for  they  are  one  and  the  same,  and  he  is 
General  of  France,  in  the  King’s  stead,  for  four-and-twenty 
hours  ;  Sieur  Motier  must  step  forth,  with  that  sublime  chival¬ 
rous  gait  of  his  ;  solemnly  ascend  the  steps  of  the  Fatherland’s 
Altar,  in  sight  of  Heaven  and  of  the  scarcely  breathing  Earth  j 
and,  under  the  creak  of  those  swinging  Cassolettes ,  “  pressing 
his  sword’s  point  firmly  there,”  pronounce  the  Oath,  To  King , 
to  Law ,  and  Nation  (not  to  mention  “  grains  ”  with  their  circu¬ 
lating),  in  his  own  name  and  that  of  armed  France.  Whereat 
there  is  waving  of  banners,  and  acclaim  sufficient.  The 
National  Assembly  must  swear,  standing  in  its  place ;  the 
King  himself  audibly.  The  King  swears  ;  and  now  be  the  wel- 

1  Deux  Amis,  v.  168. 


340  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1790. 

kin  split  with,  vivats  :  let  citizens  enfranchised  embrace,  each 
smiting  heartily  his  palm  into  his  fellow’s ;  and  armed  Feder¬ 
ates  clang  their  arms  ;  above  all,  that  floating  battery  speak  ! 
It  has  spoken,  —  to  the  four  corners  of  France.  From  emi¬ 
nence  to  eminence  bursts  the  thunder ;  faint-heard,  loud- 
repeated.  What  a  stone,  cast  into  what  a  lake ;  in  circles  that 
do  not  grow  fainter.  From  Arras  to  Avignon ;  from  Metz  to 
Bayonne !  Over  Orleans  and  Blois  it  rolls,  in  cannon-recita¬ 
tive  ;  Buy  bellows  of  it  amid  his  granite  mountains  ;  Pau 
where  is  the  shell-cradle  of  Great  Henri.  At  far  Marseilles, 
one  can  think,  the  ruddy  evening  witnesses  it ;  over  the  deep- 
blue  Mediterranean  waters,  the  Castle  of  If  ruddy -tinted  darts 
forth,  from  every  cannon’s  mouth,  its  tongue  of  fire ;  and  all 
the  people  shout :  Yes,  France  is  free.  0  glorious  France, 
that  has  burst  out  so ;  into  universal  sound  and  smoke ;  and 
attained  —  the  Phrygian  Cap  of  Liberty  !  In  all  Towns,  Trees 
of  Liberty  also  may  be  planted ;  with  or  without  advantage. 
Said  we  not,  it  was  the  highest  stretch  attained  by  the  Thes¬ 
pian  Art  on  this  Planet,  or  perhaps  attainable  ? 

The  Thespian  Art,  unfortunately,  one  must  still  call  it ;  for 
behold  there,  on  this  Field  of  Mars,  the  National  Banners, 
before  there  could  be  any  swearing,  were  to  be  all  blessed.  A 
most  proper  operation ;  since  surely  without  Heaven’s  blessing 
bestowed,  say  even,  audibly  or  inaudibly  sought ,  no  Earthly 
banner  or  contrivance  can  prove  victorious  :  but  now  the  means 
of  doing  it  ?  By  what  thrice-divine  Franklin  thunder-rod  shall 
miraculous  fire  be  drawn  out  of  Heaven ;  and  descend  gently, 
life-giving,  with  health  to  the  souls  of  men  ?  Alas,  by  the 
simplest:  by  Two  Hundred  shaven-crowned  Individuals,  “in 
snow-white  albs,  with  tricolor  girdles,”  arranged  on  the  steps 
of  Fatherland’s  Altar  ;  and,  at  their  head  for  spokesman,  Soul’s- 
Overseer  Talleyrand-Perigord  !  These  shall  act  as  miraculous 
thunder-rod,  —  to  such  length  as  they  can.  0  ye  deep  azure 
Heavens,  and  thou  green  all-nursing  Earth  ;  ye  Streams  ever- 
flowing;  deciduous  Forests  that  die  and  are  born  again,  con¬ 
tinually,  like  the  sons  of  men ;  stone  Mountains  that  die  daily 
with  every  rain-shower,  yet  are  not  dead  and  levelled  for  ages 
of  ages,  nor  born  again  (it  seems)  but  with  new  world-explo- 


•  1 


Chap.  XII.  SOUND  AND  SMOKE.  341 

July  14. 

sions,  and  such  tumultuous  seething  and  tumbling,  steam  half¬ 
way  to  the  Moon ;  0  thou  unfathomable  mystic  All,  garment 
and  dwelling-place  of  the  Unnamed  ;  and  thou,  articulate¬ 
speaking  Spirit  of  Man,  who  mouldest  and  modellest  that 
Unfathomable  Unnamable  even  as  we  see,  —  is  not  there  a 
miracle  :  That  some  French  mortal  should,  we  say  not  have 
believed,  but  pretended  to  imagine  he  believed  that  Talleyrand 
and  Two  Hundred  pieces  of  white  Calico  could  do  it ! 

Here,  however,  we  are  to  remark  with  the  sorrowing  His¬ 
torians  of  that  day,  that  suddenly,  while  Episcopus  Talleyrand, 
long-stoled,  with  mitre  and  tricolor  belt,  was  yet  but  hitching 
up  the  Altar-steps  to  do  his  miracle,  the  material  Heaven  grew 
black ;  a  north-wind,  moaning  cold  moisture,  began  to  sing ; 
and  there  descended  a  very  deluge  of  rain.  Sad  to  see  !  The 
thirty-staired  Seats  all  round  our  Amphitheatre,  get  instan¬ 
taneously  slated  with  mere  umbrellas,  fallacious  when  so  thick 
set :  our  antique  Cassolettes  become  water-pots ;  their  incense- 
smoke  gone  hissing,  in  a  whiff  of  muddy  vapor.  Alas,  instead 
of  vivats ,  there  is  nothing  now  but  the  furious  peppering  and 
rattling.  From  three  to  four  hundred  thousand  human  indi¬ 
viduals  feel  that  they  have  a  skin  ;  happily  -impervious.  The 
General’s  sash  runs  water :  how  all  military  banners  droop ; 
and  will  not  wave,  but  lazily  flap,  as  if  metamorphosed  into 
painted  tin-banners  !  Worse,  far  worse,  these  hundred  thou¬ 
sand,  such  is  the  Historian’s  testimony,  of  the  fairest  of 
France  !  Their  snowy  muslins  all  splashed  and  draggled ;  the 
ostrich-feather  shrunk  shamefully  to  the  backbone  of  a  feather  : 
all  caps  are  ruined ;  innermost  pasteboard  molten  into  its 
original  pap :  Beauty  no  longer  swims  decorated  in  her  garni¬ 
ture,  like  Love-goddess  hidden-revealed  in  her  Paphian  clouds, 
but  struggles  in  disastrous  imprisonment  in  it,  for  “  the  shape 
was  noticeable ;  ”  and  now  only  sympathetic  interjections, 
titterings,  teheeings,  and  resolute  good-humor  will  avail.  A 
deluge ;  an  incessant  sheet  or  fluid  column  of  rain ;  —  such 
that  our  Overseer’s  very  mitre  must  be  filled ;  not  a  mitre,  but 
a  filled  and  leaky  fire-bucket  on  his  reverend  head  !  —  Regard¬ 
less  of  which,  Overseer  Talleyrand  performs  his  miracle :  the 
Blessing  of  Talleyrand,  another  than  that  of  Jacob,  is  on  all 


342  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES.  Book  VIII. 

1790. 

the  Eighty-three  departmental  flags  of  France  ;  which  wave  or 
flap,  with  such  thankfulness  as  needs.  Towards  three  o’clock, 
the  sun  beams  out  again:  the  remaining  evolutions  can  be 
transacted  under  bright  heavens,  though  with  decorations  much 
damaged.1 

On  Wednesday  our  Federation  is  consummated :  but  the 
festivities  last  out  the  week,  and  over  into  the  next.  Festivi¬ 
ties  such  as  no  Bagdad  Caliph,  or  Aladdin  with  the  Lamp, 
could  have  equalled.  There  is  a  J ousting  on  the  Fiver  ;  with 
its  water-somersets,  splashing  and  haha-ing :  Abbe  Fauchet, 
Te-Deum  Fauchet,  preaches,  for  his  part,  in  the  “  rotunda  of 
the  Corn-market,”  a  funeral  harangue  on  Franklin ;  for  whom 
the  National  Assembly  has  lately  gone  three  days  in  black. 
The  Motier  and  Lepelletier  tables  still  groan  with  viands ; 
roofs  ringing  with  patriotic  toasts.  On  the  fifth  evening, 
which  is  the  Christian  Sabbath,  there  is  a  universal  Ball. 

Paris,  out  of  doors  and  in,  man,  woman  and  child,  is  jigging 

^  # 

it,  to  the  sound  of  harp  and  four-stringed  fiddle.  The  hoariest- 
headed  man  will  tread  one  other  measure,  under  this  nether 
Moon;  -speechless  nurslings,  infants  as  we  call  them,  vrjTna 
TeKva,  crow  in  arms  ;  and  sprawl  out  numb-plump  little  limbs, — 
impatient  for  muscularity,  they  know  not  why.  The  stiff est 
balk  bends  more  or  less  ;  all  joists  creak. 

Or  out,  on  the  Earth’s  breast  itself,  behold  the  Ruins  of 
the  Bastille.  All  lamplit,  allegorically  decorated;  a  Tree  of 
Liberty  sixty  feet  high;  and  Phrygian  Cap  on  it,  of  size 
enormous,  under  which  King  Arthur  and  his  round-table 
might  have  dined !  In  the  depths  of  the  background  is  a 
single  lugubrious  lamp,  rendering  dim-visible  one  of  your 
iron  cages,  half  buried,  and  some  Prison  stones,  —  Tyranny 
vanishing  downwards,  all  gone  but  the  skirt :  the  rest  wholly 
lamp-festoons,  trees  real  or  of  pasteboard;  in  the  similitude 
of  a  fairy  grove  ;  with  this  inscription,  readable  to  runner : 
“Id  Von  danse ,  Dancing  Here.”  As  indeed  had  been  obscurely 
foreshadowed  by  Cagliostro 2  prophetic  Quack  of  Quacks,  when 
he,  four  years  ago,  quitted  the  grim  durance ;  —  to  fall  into  a 
grimmer,  of  the  Roman  Inquisition,  and  not  quit  it. 

1  Deux  Amis,  v.  143-179. 

2  See  his  Lettre  au  Peuple  Frangais  (London,  1786). 


chap.  XII.  SOUND  AND  SMOKE.  343 

July  14-18. 

But,  after  all,  what  is  this  Bastille  business  to  that  of  the 
Champs  Elysees !  Thither,  to  these  Fields  well  named  Ely- 
sian,  all  feet  tend.  It  is  radiant  as  day  with  festooned  lamps ; 
little  oil-cups,  like  variegated  fire-flies,  daintily  illume  the 
highest  leaves :  trees  there  are  all  sheeted  with  variegated 
fire,  shedding  far  a  glimmer  into  the  dubious  wood.  There, 
under  the  free  sky,  do  tight-limbed  Federates,  with  fairest 
newfound  sweethearts,  elastic  as  Diana,  and  not  of  that  coy¬ 
ness  and  tart  humor  of  Diana,  thread  their  jocund  mazes,  all 
through  the  ambrosial  night ;  and  hearts  were  touched  and 
fired;  and  seldom  surely  had  our  old  Planet,  in  that  huge 
conic  Shadow  of  hers,  “ which  goes  beyond  the  Moon,  and  is 
named  Night,”  curtained  such  a  Ball-room.  Oh  if,  according 
to  Seneca,  the  very  gods  look  down  on  a  good  man  struggling 
with  adversity,  and  smile ;  what  must  they  think  of  Five-and- 
twenty  Million  indifferent  ones  victorious  over  it,  —  for  eight 
days  and  more  ? 

In  this  way,  and  in  such  ways,  however,  has  the  Feast  of 
Pikes  danced  itself  off :  gallant  Federates  wending  home¬ 
wards,  towards  every  point  of  the  compass,  with  feverish 
nerves,  heart  and  head  much  heated;  some  of  them,  indeed, 
as  Dampmartin’s  elderly  respectable  friend  from  Strasburg, . 
quite  “  burnt  out  with  liquors,”  and  flickering  towards  extinc¬ 
tion.1  The  Feast  of  Pikes  has  danced  itself  off,  and  become 
defunct,  and  the  ghost  of  a  Feast ;  —  nothing  of  it  now  remain¬ 
ing  but  this  vision  in  men’s  memory ;  and  the  place  that  knew 
it  (for  the  slope  of  that  Champ-de-Mars  is  crumbled  to  half 
the  original  height2)  now  knowing  it  no  more.  Undoubtedly 
one  of  the  memorablest  National  High-tides.  Never  or  hardly 
ever,  as  we  said,  was  Oath  sworn  with  such  heart-effusion, 
emphasis  and  expenditure  of  joyance ;  and  then  it  was  broken 
irremediably  wdthin  year  and  day.  Ah,  why  ?  When  the 
swearing  of  it  was  so  heavenly-joyful,  bosom  clasped  to  bosom, 
and  Five-and-twenty  Million  hearts  all  burning  together;  0 
ye  inexorable  Destinies,  why?  —  Partly  because  it  was  sworn 

1  Dampmartin,  Eoenemens,  i.  144-184. 

2  Dulaure,  Histoire  de  Paris ,  viii.  25. 


.  344 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


Book  VIII. 
1790. 

with  such  overjoyance  ;  but  chiefly,  indeed,  for  an  older  rea¬ 
son  :  that  Sin  had  come  into  the  world,  and  Misery  by  Sin. 
These  Five-and-twenty  Millions,  if  we  will  consider  it,  have 
now  henceforth,  with  that  Phrygian  Cap  of  theirs,  no  force 
over  them,  to  bind  and  guide ;  neither  in  them,  more  than 
heretofore,  is  guiding  force,  or  rule  of  just  living :  how  then, 
while  they  all  go  rushing  at  such  a  pace,  on  unknown  ways, 
with  no  bridle,  towards  no  aim,  can  hurly-burly  unutterable 
fail  ?  For  verily  not  Federation  rose-pink  is  the  color  of  this 
Earth  and  her  work :  not  by  outbursts  of  noble  sentiment,  but 
with  far  other  ammunition,  shall  a  man  front  the  world. 

But  how  wise,  in  all  cases,  to  “  husband  your  fire ;  ”  to  keep 
it  deep  down,  rather,  as  genial  radical-heat !  Explosions,  the 
fOrciblest,  and  never  so  well  directed,  are  questionable  ;  far 
oftenest  futile,  always  frightfully  wasteful :  but  think  of  a 
man,  of  a  Nation  of  men,  spending  its  whole  stock  of  fire  in 
one  artificial  Fire-work  !  So  have  we  seen  fond  weddings  (for 
individuals,  like  Nations,  have  their  High-tides)  celebrated 
with  an  outburst  of  triumph  and  deray,  at  which  the  elderly 
shook  their  heads.  Better  had  a  serious  cheerfulness  been  ; 
for  the  enterprise  was  great.  Fond  pair  !  the  more  triumphant 
ye  feel,  and  victorious  over  terrestrial  evil,  which  seems  all 
abolished,  the  wider-eyed  will  your  disappointment  be  to  find 
terrestrial  evil  still  extant.  “  And  why  extant  ?  ”  will  each 
of  you  cry :  “  Because  my  false  mate  has  played  the  traitor : 
evil  was  abolished;  I,  for  one,  meant  faithfully,  and  did,  or 
would  have  done  !  ”  Whereby  the  over-sweet  moon  of  honey 
changes  itself  into  long  years  of  vinegar :  perhaps  divulsive 
vinegar,  like  Hannibal’s. 

Shall  we  say,  then,  the  French  Nation  has  led  Royalty,  or 
wooed  and  teased  poor  Royalty  to  lead  her,  to  the  hymeneal 
Fatherland’s  Altar,  in  such  over-sweet  manner ;  and  has,  most 
thoughtlessly,  to  celebrate  the  nuptials  with  due  shine  and 
demonstration,  —  burnt  her  bed  ? 


BOOK  IX. 


NANCI. 

- « - 

CHAPTER  I. 

BOUILLE. 

Dimly  visible,  at  Metz  on  the  Northeastern  frontier,  a  cer¬ 
tain  brave  Bouille,  last  refuge  of  Royalty  in  all  straits  and 
meditations  of  flight,  has  for  many  months  hovered  occasion¬ 
ally  in  our  eye ;  some  name  or  shadow  of  a  brave  Bouillti : 
let  us  now,  for  a  little,  look  fixedly  at  him,  till  he  become 
a  substance  and  person  for  us.  The  man  himself  is  worth  a 
glance  ;  his  position  and  procedure  there,  in  these  days,  will 
throw  light  on  many  things. 

For  it  is  with  Bouille  as  with  all  Erench  Commanding  Offi¬ 
cers  ;  only  in  a  more  emphatic  degree.  The  grand  National 
Federation,  we  already  guess,  was  but  empty  sound,  or  worse  : 
a  last  loudest  universal  Hep-hep-hurrah ,  with  full  bumpers, 
in  that  National  Lapithse-feast  of  Constitution-making;  as  in 
loud  denial  of  the  palpably  existing ;  as  if,  with  hurrahings, 
you  would  shut  out  notice  of  the  inevitable,  already  knocking 
at  the  gates  !  Which  new  National  bumper,  one  may  say,  can 
but  deepen  the  drunkenness  ;  and  so,  the  louder  it  swears 
Brotherhood,  will  the  sooner  and  the  more,  surely  lead  to 
Cannibalism.  Ah,  under  that  fraternal  shine  and  clangor, 
what  a  deep  world  of  irreconcilable  discords  lie  momentarily 
assuaged,  dafnped-down  for  one  moment !  Respectable  mili¬ 
tary  Federates  have  barely  got  home  to  their  quarters  ;  and 
the  inflammable st,  u  dying,  burnt  up  with  liquors  and  kind- 


346  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

ness,”  has  not  yet  got  extinct ;  the  shine  is  hardly  out  of 
men’s  eyes,  and  still  blazes  filling  all  men’s  memories, —  when 
your  discords  burst  forth  again,  very  considerably  darker  than 
ever.  Let  us  look  at  Bouille,  and  see  how. 

Bouille  for  the  present  commands  in  the  Garrison  of  Metz, 
and  far  and  wide  over  the  East  and  North ;  being  indeed,  by 
a  late  act  of  Government  with  sanction  of  National  Assembly, 
appointed  one  of  our  Eour  supreme  Generals.  Rochambeau 
and  Mailly,  men  and  Marshals  of  note  in  these  days,  though 
to  us  of  small  moment,  are  two  of  his  colleagues  ;  tough  old  bab¬ 
bling  Liickner,  also  of  small  moment  for  us,  will  probably  be 
the  third.  Marquis  de  Bouille  is  a  determined  Loyalist ;  not 
indeed  disinclined  to  moderate  reform,  but  resolute  against 
immoderate.  A  man  long  suspect  to  Patriotism ;  who  has 
more  than  once  given  the  august  Assembly  trouble ;  who 
would  not,  for  example,  take  the  National  Oath,  as  he  was 
bound  to  do,  but  always  put  it  off  on  this  or  the  other  pretext, 
till  an  autograph  of  Majesty  requested  him  to  do  it  as  a  favor. 
There,  in  this  post,  if  not  of  honor  yet  of  eminence  and  dan¬ 
ger,  he  waits,  in  a  silent  concentred  manner ;  very  dubious  of 
the  future.  “  Alone,”  as  he  says,  or  almost  alone,  of  all  the 
old  military  Notabilities,  he  has  not  emigrated;  but  thinks 
always,  in  atrabiliar  moments,  that  there  will  be  nothing  for 
him  too  but  to  cross  the  marches.  He  might  cross,  say,  to 
Treves  or  Coblentz,  where  Exiled  Princes  will  be  one  day 
ranking ;  or  say,  over  into  Luxemburg,  where  old  Broglie 
loiters  and  languishes.  Or  is  there  not  the  great  dim  Deep  of 
European  Diplomacy;  where  your  Calonnes,  your  Breteuils 
are  beginning  to  hover,  dimly  discernible  ? 

With  immeasurable  confused  outlooks  arid  purposes,  with  no 
clear  purpose  but  this  of  still  trying  to  do  his  Majesty  a  ser¬ 
vice,  Bouille  waits.;  struggling  what  he  can  to  keep  his  district 
loyal,  his  troops  faithful,  his  garrisons  furnished.  He  main¬ 
tains,  as  yet,  with  his  Cousin  Lafayette  some  thin  diplomatic 
correspondence,  by  letter  and  messenger ;  chivalrous  constitu¬ 
tional  professions  on  the  one  side,  military  gravity  and  brevity 
on  the  other ;  which  thin  correspondence  one  can  see  growing 
ever  the  thinner  and  hollower,  towards  the  verge  of  entire 


Chap.  II.  ARREARS  AND  ARISTOCRATS.  347 

1790. 

vacuity.1  A  quick,  choleric,  sharply  discerning,  stubbornly 
endeavoring  man;  with  suppressed-explosive  resolution,  with 
valor,  nay  headlong  audacity :  a  man  who  was  more  in  his 
place,  lion-like  defending  those  Windward  Isles,  or,  as  with 
military  tiger-spring,  clutching  Nevis  and  Montserrat  from  the 
English,  —  than  here  in  this  suppressed  condition,  muzzled 
and  fettered  by  diplomatic  packthreads ;  looking  out  for  a 
civil  war,  which  may  never  arrive.  Few  years  ago  Bouilld 
was  to  have  led  a  French  East-Indian  Expedition,  and  recon¬ 
quered  or  conquered  Pondicherry  and  the  Kingdoms  of  the 
Sun  :  but  the  whole  world  is  suddenly  changed,  and  he  with 
it ;  Destiny  willed  it  not  in  that  way,  but  in  this. 


—  ■■■■■»'  ■  — 

« 

CHAPTER  II. 

ARREARS  AND  ARISTOCRATS. 

Indeed,  as  to  the  general  outlook  of  things,  Bouill^  him¬ 
self  augurs  not  well  of  it.  The  French  Army,  ever  since 
those  old  Bastille  days,  and  earlier,  has  been  universally  in 
the  questionablest  state,  and  growing  daily  worse.  Discipline, 
which  is  at  all  times  a  kind  of  miracle,  and  works  by  faith, 
broke  down  then;  one  sees  not  with  what  near  prospect  of 
recovering  itself.  The  Gardes  Franchises  played  a  deadly 
game  ;  but  how  they  won  it,  and  wear  the  prizes  of  it,  all  men 
know.  In  that  general  overturn,  we  saw  the  Hired  Fighters 
refuse  to  fight.  The  very  Swiss  of  Chateau-Vieux,  which 
indeed  is  a  kind  of  French  Swiss,  from  Geneva  and  the  Pays 
de  Vaud,  are  understood  to  have  declined.  Deserters  glided 
over  ;  Royal- Allemand  itself  looked  disconsolate,  though  stanch 
of  purpose.  In  a  word,  we  there  saw  Military  Rule ,  in  the 
shape  of  poor  Besenval  with  that  convulsive  unmanageable 
Camp  of  his,  pass  two  martyr  days  on  the  Champ-de-Mars ; 
and  then,  veiling  itself,  so  to  speak,  “  under  cloud  of  night,” 
1  Bouille,  M&moires  (London,  1797),  i.  c.  8. 


348  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

depart  “down  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine/’  to  seek  refuge 
elsewhere ;  this  ground  having  clearly  become  too  hot  for  it. 

But  what  new  ground  to  seek,  what  remedy  to  try  ?  Quar¬ 
ters  that  were  “uninfected:”  this  doubtless,  with  judicious 
strictness  of  drilling,  were  the  plan.  Alas,  in  all  quarters 
and  places,  from  Paris  onward  to  the  remotest  hamlet,  is  infec¬ 
tion,  is  seditious  contagion :  inhaled,  propagated  by  contact 
and  converse,  till  the  dullest  soldier  catch  it !  There  is  speech 
of  men  in  uniform  with  men  not  in  uniform  ;  men  in  uni¬ 
form  read  journals,  and  even  write  in  them.1  There  are 
public  petitions  or  remonstrances,  private  emissaries  and 
associations  ;  there  is  discontent,  jealousy,  uncertainty,  sul¬ 
len  suspicious  humor.  The  whole  French  Army,  fermenting 
in  dark  heat,  glooms  ominous,  boding  good  to  no  one. 

So  that,  in  the  general  social  dissolution  and  revolt,  we  are 
to  have  this  deepest  and  dismalest  kind  of  it,  a  revolting  sol¬ 
diery  ?  Barren,  desolate  to  look  upon  is  this  same  business 
of  revolt  under  all  its  aspects ;  but  how  infinitely  more  so, 
when  it  takes  the  aspect  of  military  mutiny  !  The  very  im¬ 
plement  of  rule  and  restraint,  whereby  all  the  rest  was  man¬ 
aged  and  held  in  order,  has  become  precisely  the  frightfulest 
immeasurable  implement  of  misrule ;  like  the  element  of  Fire, 
our  indispensable  all-ministering  servant,  when  it  gets  the 
mastery ,  and  becomes  conflagration.  Discipline  we  called  a 
kind  of  miracle :  in  fact,  is  it  not  miraculous  how  one  man 
moves  hundreds  of  thousands ;  each  unit  of  whom,  it  may  be, 
loves  him  not,  and  singly  .fears  him  not,  yet  has  to  obey  him, 
to  go  hither  or  go  thither,  to  march  and  halt,  to  give  death, 
and  even  to  receive  it,  as  if  a  Fate  had  spoken  ;  and  the  word 
of  command  becomes,  almost  in  the  literal  sense,  a  magic 
word  ? 

Which  magic  word,  again,  if  it  be  once  forgotten  ;  the  spell 
of  it  once  broken  !  The  legions  of  assiduous  ministering  spir¬ 
its  rise  on  you  now  as  menacing  fiends;  your  free  orderly 
arena  becomes  a  tumult-place  of  the  Nether  Pit,  and  the  hap¬ 
less  magician  is  rent  limb  from  limb.  Military  mobs  are  mobs 
with  muskets  in  their  hands ;  and  also  with  death  hanging 
1  See  Newspapers  of  July,  1789  (in  Hist.  Pari  ii.  35),  &c. 


ARREARS  AND  ARISTOCRATS. 


349 


Chap.  IL 
1790. 

over  their  heads,  for  death  is  the  penalty  of  disobedience,  and 
they  have  disobeyed.  And  now  if  all  mobs  are  properly  fren¬ 
zies,  and  work  frenetically  with  mad  fits  of  hot  and  of  cold, 
fierce  rage  alternating  so  incoherently  with  panic  terror,  con¬ 
sider  what  your  military  mob  will  be,  with  such  a  conflict  of 
duties  and  penalties,  whirled  between  remorse  and  fury,  and, 
for  the  hot  fit,  loaded  fire-arms  in  its  hand !  To  the  soldier 
himself,  revolt  is  frightful,  and  often est  perhaps  pitiable  ;  and 
yet  so  dangerous,  it  can  only  be  hated,  cannot  be  pitied.  An 
anomalous  class  of  mortals  these  poor  Hired  Killers  !  With 
a  frankness,  which  to  the  Moralist  in  these  times  seems  sur¬ 
prising,  they  have  sworn  to  become  machines ;  and  never¬ 
theless  they  are  still  partly  men.  Let  no  prudent  person  in 
authority  remind  them  of  this  latter  fact ;  but  always  let 
force,  let  injustice  above  all,  stop  short  clearly  on  this  side 
of  the  rebounding-point !  Soldiers,  as  we  often  say,  do  revolt : 
were  it  not  so,  several  things  which  are  transient  in  this  world 
might  be  perennial. 

Over  and  above  the  general  quarrel  which  all  sons  of  Adam 
maintain  with  their  lot  here  below,  the  grievances  of  the 
French  soldiery  reduce  themselves  to  two.  First,  that  their 
Officers  are  Aristocrats;  secondly,  that  they  cheat  them  of 
their  Pay.  Two  grievances ;  or  rather  we  might  say  one, 
capable  of  becoming  a  hundred ;  for  in  that  single  first  propo¬ 
sition,  that  the  Officers  are  Aristocrats,  what  a  multitude  of 
corollaries  lie  ready  !  It  is  a  bottomless  ever-flowing  fountain 
of  grievances  this ;  what  you  may  call  a  general  raw-material 
of  grievance,  wherefrom  individual  grievance  after  grievance 
will  daily  body  itself  forth.  Kay  there  will  even  be  a  kind  of 
comfort  in  getting  it,  from  time  to  time,  so  embodied.  Pecu¬ 
lation  of  one’s  Pay !  It  is  embodied ;  made  tangible,  made 
denounceable ;  exhalable,  if  only  in  angry  words. 

For  unluckily  that  grand  fountain  of  grievances  does  exist : 
Aristocrats  tilmost  all  our  Officers  necessarily  are ;  they  have 
it  in  the  blood  and  bone.  By  the  law  of  the  case,  no  man  can 
pretend  to  be  the  pitifulest  lieutenant  of  militia  till  he  have 
first  verified,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Lion-King,  a  Nobility 


350 


NANCI. 


Book  IX. 
1790. 

of  four  generations.  Not  nobility  only,  but  four  generations 
of  it :  this  latter  is  the  improvement  hit  upon,  in  compara¬ 
tively  late  years,  by  a  certain  War-minister  much  pressed 
for  commissions.1  An  improvement  which  did  relieve  the 
oppressed  War-minister,  but  which  split  France  still  further 
into  yawning  contrasts  of  Commonalty  and  Nobility,  nay  of 
new  Nobility  and  old  ;  as  if  already  with  your  new  and  old, 
and  then  with  your  old,  older  and  oldest,  there  were  not  con¬ 
trasts  and  discrepancies  enough;  —  the  general  clash  whereof 
men  now  see  and  hear,  and  in  the  singular  whirlpool,  all  con¬ 
trasts  gone  together  to  the  bottom  !  Gone  to  the  bottom  or 
going ;  with  uproar,  without  return ;  going  everywhere  save 
in  the  Military  section  of  things  ;  and  there,  it  may  be  asked, 
can  they  hope  to  continue  always  at  the  top  ?  Apparently, 
not. 

It  is  true,  in  a  time  of  external  Peace,  when  there  is  no 
fighting,  but  only  drilling,  this  question,  How  you  rise  from 
the  ranks,  may  seem  theoretical  rather.  But  in  reference  to 
the  Rights  of  Man  it  is  continually  practical.  The  soldier  has 
sworn  to  be  faithful  not  to  the  King  only,  but  to  the  Law  and 
the  Nation.  Do  our  commanders  love  the  Revolution  ?  ask  all 
soldiers.  Unhappily  no,  they  hate  it,  and  love  the  Counter- 
Revolution.  Young  epauletted  men,  with  quality-blood  in 
them,  poisoned  with  quality-pride,  do  sniff  openly,  with  in¬ 
dignation  struggling  to  become  contempt,  at  our  Rights  of 
Man,  as  at  some  new-fangled  cobweb,  which  shall  be  brushed 
down  again.  Old  Officers,  more  cautious,  keep  silent,  with 
closed  uncurled  lips ;  but  one  guesses  what  is  passing  within. 
Nay  who  knows,  how,  under  the  plausiblest  word  of  command, 
might  lie  Counter-Revolution  itself,  sale  to  Exiled  Princes  and 
the  Austrian  Kaiser :  treacherous  Aristocrats  hoodwinking  the 
small  insight  of  us  common  men?  —  In  such  manner  works 
that  general  raw-material  of  grievance ;  disastrous  ;  instead 
of  trust  and  reverence,  breeding  hate,  endless  suspicion,  the 
impossibility  of  commanding  and  obeying.  And  now  when 
this  second  more  tangible  grievance  has  articulated  itself  uni¬ 
versally  in  the  mind  of  the  common  man  :  Peculation  of  his 

1  Dampmartin,  Evtnemens,  i.  89. 


Chap.  II.  ARREARS  AND  ARISTOCRATS.  351 

1790. 

Pay  !  Peculation  of  the  despicablest  sort  does  exist,  and  has 
long  existed  ;  but,  unless  the  new-declared  Rights  of  Man,  and 
all  rights  whatsoever,  be  a  cobweb,  it  shall  no  longer  exist. 

The  Prench  Military  System  seems  dying  a  sorrowful  sui¬ 
cidal  death.  Nay  more,  citizen,  as  is  natural,  ranks  himself 
against  citizen  in  this  cause.  The  soldier  finds  audience,  of 
numbers  and  sympathy  unlimited,  among  the  Patriot  lower- 
classes.  Nor  are  the  higher  wanting  to  the  officer.  The 
officer  still  dresses  and  perfumes  himself  for  such  sad  unemi¬ 
grated  soiree  as  there  may  still  be  ;  and  speaks  his  woes,  — 
which  woes,  are  they  not  Majesty’s  and  Nature’s  ?  Speaks, 
at  the  same  time,  his  gay  defiance,  his  firm-set  resolution. 
Citizens,  still  more  Citizenesses,  see  the  right  and  the  wrong ; 
not  the  Military  System  alone  will  die  by  suicide,  but  much 
along  with  it.  As  was  said,  there  is  yet  possible  a  deeper 
overturn  than  any  yet  witnessed :  that  deepest  upturn  of 
the  black-burning  sulphurous  stratum  whereon  all  rests  and 
grows  ! 

But  how  these  things  may  act  on  the  rude  soldier-mind, 
with  its  military  pedantries,  its  inexperience  of  all  that  lies 
off  the  parade-ground  5  inexperience  as  of  a  child,  yet  fierce¬ 
ness  of  a  man,  and  vehemence  of  a  Frenchman !  It  is  long 
that  secret  communings  in  mess-room  and  guard-room,  sour 
looks,  thousand-fold  petty  vexations  between  commander  and 
commanded,  measure  everywhere  the'  weary  military  day. 
Ask  Captain  Dampmartin  ;  an  authentic,  ingenious  literary 
officer  of  horse  ;  who  loves  the  Reign  of  Liberty,  after  a  sort: 
yet  has  had  his  heart  grieved  to  the  quick  many  times,  in  the 
hot  Southwestern  region  and  elsewhere  ;  and  has  seen  riot, 
civil  battle  by  daylight  and  by  torchlight,  and  anarchy  hate- 
fuler  than  death.  How  insubordinate  Troopers,  with  drink 
in  their  heads,  meet  Captain  Dampmartin  and  another  on  the 
ramparts,  where  there  is  no  escape  or  side-path ;  and  make 
military  salute  punctually,  for  we  look  calm  on  them ;  yet 
make  it  in  a  snappish,  almost  insulting  manner :  how  one 
morning  they  “  leave  all  their  chamois-shirts  ”  and  superfluous 
buffs,  which  they  are  tired  of,  laid  in  piles  at  the  Captains’ 
doors  5  whereat  “  we  laugh,”  as  the  ass  does  eating  thistles  : 


352  NAN CI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

nay  how  they  “knot  two  forage-cords  together/’  with  uni¬ 
versal  noisy  cursing,  with  evident  intent  to  hang  the  Quarter¬ 
master  :  —  all  this  the  worthy  Captain,  looking  on  it  through 
the  ruddy-and-sable  of  fond  regretful  memory,  has  flowingly 
written  down.1  Men  growl  in  vague  discontent ;  officers  fling 
up  their  commissions  and  emigrate  in  disgust. 

Or  let  us  ask  another  literary  Officer  j  not  yet  Captain ; 
Sublieutenant  only,  in  the  Artillery  Regiment  La  Fere :  a 
young  man  of  twenty-one ;  not  unentitled  to  speak  ;  the  name 
of  him  is  Napoleon  Buonapjarte.  To  such  height  of  Sub¬ 
lieutenancy  has  he  now  got  promoted,  from  Brienne  School, 
five  years  ago ;  “  being  found  qualified  in  mathematics  by 
La  Place.”  He  is  lying  at  Auxonne,  in  the  West,  in  these 
months ;  not  sumptuously  lodged  —  “  in  the  house  of  a  Bar¬ 
ber,  to  whose  wife  he  did  not  pay  the  customary  degree  of 
respect ;  ”  or  even  over  at  the  Pavilion,  in  a  chamber  with 
bare  walls  ;  the  only  furniture  an  indifferent  “  bed  without  cur¬ 
tains,  two  chairs,  and  in  the  recess  of  a  window  a  table  cov¬ 
ered  with  books  and  papers  :  his  Brother  Louis  sleeps  on  a 
coarse  mattress  in  an  adjoining  room.”-  However,  he  is  doing 
something  great :  writing  his  first  Book  or  Pamphlet,  —  elo¬ 
quent  vehement  Letter  to  M.  Matteo  Buttafuoco ,  our  Corsican 
Deputy,  who  is  not  a  Patriot,  but  an  Aristocrat  unworthy  of 
Deputy  ship.  Joly  of  Dole  is  Publisher.  The  literary  Sub¬ 
lieutenant  corrects  th6  proofs  ;  “  sets  out  on  foot  from  Aux¬ 
onne  every  morning  at  four  o’clock,  for  Dole :  after  looking 
over  the  proofs,  he  partakes  of  an  extremely  frugal  breakfast 
with  Joly,  and  immediately  prepares  for  returning  to  his  Gar¬ 
rison  ;  where  he  arrives  before  noon,  having  thus  walked  above 
twenty  miles  in  the  course  of  the  morning.” 

This  Sublieutenant  can  remark  that,  in  drawing-rooms,  on 
streets,  on  highways,  at  inns,  everywhere  men’s  minds  are 
ready  to  kindle  into  a  flame.  That  a  Patriot,  if  he  appear  in 
the  drawing-room,  or  amid  a  group  of  officers,  is  liable  enough 
to  be  discouraged,  so  great  is  the  majority  against  him  :  but 
no  sooner  does  he  get  into  the  street,  or  among  the  soldiers, 
than  he  feels  again  as  if  the  whole  Nation  were  with  him.' 

1  Dampmartin,  Evenemens,  i.  122-146. 


Chap.  II.  ARREARS  AND  ARISTOCRATS.  353 

1790. 

That  after  the  famous  Oath,  To  the  King,  to  the  Nation  and 
Law,  there  was  a  great  change ;  that  before  this,  if  ordered  to 
tire  on  the  people,  he  for  one  would  have  done  it  in  the  King's 
name  ;  but  that  after  this,  in  the  Nation’s  name,  he  would  not 
have  done  it.  Likewise  that  the  Patriot  officers,  more  numer¬ 
ous  too  in  the  Artillery  and  Engineers  than  elsewhere,  were 
few  in  number ;  yet  that  having  the  soldiers  on  their  side, 
they  ruled  the  regiment ;  and  did  often  deliver  the  Aristocrat 
brother  officer  out  of  peril  and  strait.  One  day,  for  example, 
“  a  member  of  our  own  mess  roused  the  mob,  by  singing,  from 
the  windows  of  our  dining-room,  0  Richard,  0  my  King  !  and  I 
had  to  snatch  him  from  their  fury.”  1 

All  which  let  the  reader  multiply  by  ten  thousand ;  and 
spread  it,  with  slight  variations,  over  all  the  camps  and  gar¬ 
risons  of  France.  The  French  Army  seems  on  the  verge  of 
universal  mutiny. 

Universal  mutiny !  There  is  in  that  what  may  well  make 
Patriot  Constitutionalism  and  an  august  Assembly  shudder. 
Something  behooves  to  be  done  ;  yet  what  to  do  no  man  can 
tell.  Mirabeau  proposes  even  that  the  Soldiery,  having  come 
to  such  a  pass,  be  forthwith  disbanded,  the  whole  Two  Hun¬ 
dred  and  Eighty  Thousand  of  them ;  and  organized  anew.3 
Impossible  this,  in  so  sudden  a  manner  !  cry  all  men.  And 
yet  literally,  answer  we,  it  is  inevitable,  in  one  manner  or 
another.  Such  an  army,  with  its  four-generation  Nobles,  its 
peculated  Pay,  and  men  knotting  forage-cords  to  hang  their 
Quartermaster,  cannot  subsist  beside  such  a  Revolution. 
Your  alternative  is  a  slow-pining  chronic  dissolution  and  new 
organization  ;  or  a  swift  decisive  one ;  the  agonies  spread  over 
years,  or  concentred  into  an  hour.  With  a  Mirabeau  for 
Minister  or  Governor,  the  latter  had  been  the  choice  ;  with  no 
Mirabeau  for  Governor,  it  will  naturally  be  the  former. 

1  Norvins,  Hisfoire  de  Napoldon,  i.  47.  Las  Cases,  Md moires  (translated  into 
Hazlitt’s  Life  of  Napoleon,  i.  23-31). 

2  Moniteur,  1790,  No.  233. 


VOL.  III. 


23 


354 


NANCI. 


Book  IX. 
1790. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BOUILLE  AT  METZ. 

To  Bouille,  in  his  Northeastern  circle,  none  of  these  things 
are  altogether  hid.  Many  times  flight  over  the  marches 
gleams  out  on  him  as  a  last  guidance  in  such  bewilderment : 
nevertheless  he  continues  here  ;  struggling  always  to  hope  the 
best,  not  from  new  organization,  but  from  happy  Counter- 
Revolution  and  return  to  the  old.  For  the  rest,  it  is  clear  to 
him  that  this  same  National  Federation,  and  universal  swear¬ 
ing  and  fraternizing  of  People  and  Soldiers,  has  done  “  in¬ 
calculable  mischief.”  So  much  that  fermented  secretly  has 
hereby  got  vent,  and  become  open :  National  Guards  and 
Soldiers  of  the  line,  solemnly  embracing  one  another  on  all 
parade-fields,  drinking,  swearing  patriotic  oaths,  fall  into  dis¬ 
orderly  street-processions,  constitutional  unmilitary  excla¬ 
mations  and  hurraliings.  On  which  account  the  Regiment 
Picardie,  for  one,  has  to  be  drawn  out  in  the  square  of  the 
barracks,  here  at  Metz,  and  sharply  harangued  by  the  General 
himself ;  but  expresses  penitence.1 

Far  and  near,  as  accounts  testify,  insubordination  has 
begun  grumbling  louder  and  louder.  Officers  have  been  seen 
shut  up  in  their  mess-rooms ;  assaulted  with  clamorous  de¬ 
mands,  not  without  menaces.  The  insubordinate  ringleader 
is  dismissed  with  “yellow  furlough,”  yellow  infamous  thing 
they  call  cartouche  jaune :  but  ten  new  ringleaders  rise  in  his 
stead,  and  the  yellow  cartouche  ceases  to  be  thought  disgrace¬ 
ful.  “Within  a  fortnight,”  or  at  furthest  a  month,  of  that 
sublime  Feast  of  Pikes,  the  whole  French  Army,  demanding 
Arrears,  forming  Reading  Clubs,  frequenting  Popular  Socie¬ 
ties,  is  in  a  state  which  Bouille  can  call  by  no  name  but  that 


1  Bouille,  Mtfmoires  i.  113. 


Chap.  III.  BOUILLE  AT  METZ.  355 

August. 

of  mutiny.  Bouille  knows  it  as  few  do ;  and  speaks  by  dire 
experience.  Take  one  instance  instead  of  many. 

It  is  still  an  early  day  of  August,  the  precise  date  now  un- 
discoverable,  when  Bouille,  about  to  set  out  for  the  waters  of 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  is  once  more  suddenly  summoned  to  the  bar¬ 
racks  of  Metz.  The  soldiers  stand  ranged  in  fighting  order, 
muskets  loaded,  the  .officers  all  there  on  compulsion ;  and  re¬ 
quired  with  many -voiced  emphasis  to  have  their  arrears  paid. 
Picardie  was  penitent ;  but  we  see  it  has  relapsed :  the  wide 
space  bristles  and  lowers  with  mere  mutinous  armed  men. 
Brave  Bouille  advances  to  the  nearest  Regiment,  opens  his 
commanding  lips  to  harangue ;  obtains  nothing  but  querulous- 
indignant  discordance,  and  the  sound  of  so  many  thousand 
livres  legally  due.  The  moment  is  trying ;  there  are  some  ten 
thousand  soldiers  now  in  Metz,  and  one  spirit  seems  to  have 
spread  among  them. 

Bouille  is  firm  as  the  adamant ;  but  what  shall  he  do  ?  A 
German  Regiment,  named  of  Salm,  is  thought  to  be  of  better 
temper :  nevertheless  Salm  too  may  have  heard  of  the  precept, 
Thou  shalt  not  steal ;  Salm  too  may  know  that  money  is  money. 
Bouille  walks  trustfully  towards  the  Regiment  de  Salm,  speaks 
trustful  words  ;  but  here  again  is  answered  by  the  cry  of  forty- 
four  thousand  livres  odd  sous.  A  cry  waxing  more  and  ’more 
vociferous,  as  Salm’s  humor  mounts ;  which  cry,  as  it  will  pro¬ 
duce  no  cash  or  promise  of  cash,  ends  in  the  wide  simultaneous 
whir  of  shouldered  muskets,  and  a  determined  quick-time  march 
on  the  part  of  Salm  —  towards  its  Colonel’s  house,  in  the  next 
street,  there  to  seize  the  colors  and  military  chest.  Thus  does 
Salm,  for  its  part ;  strong  in  the  faith  that  meum  is  not  tuum, 
that  fair  speeches  are  not  forty-four  thousand  livres  odd  sous. 

Unrestrain  able !  Salm  tramps  to  military  time,  quick  con¬ 
suming  the  way.  Bouille  and  the  officers,  drawing  sword, 
have  to  dash  into  double-quick  pas-de-charge ,  or  unmilitary 
running ;  to  get  the  start ;  to  station  themselves  on  the  outer 
staircase,  and  stand  there  with  what  of  death-defiance  and 
sharp  steel  they  have ;  Salm  truculently  coiling  itself  up,  rank 
after  rank,  opposite  them,  in  such  humor  as  we  can  fancy, 
which  happily  has  not  yet  mounted  to  the  murder-pitch.  There 


356 


NANCI. 


Book  IX. 
1790. 

will  Bouille  stand,  certain  at  least  of  one  man’s  purpose :  in 
grim  calmness,  awaiting  the  issue.  What  the  intrepidest  of 
men  and  generals  can  do  is  done.  Bouille,  though  there  is  a 
barricading  picket  at  each  end  of  the  street,  and  death  under 
his  eyes,  contrives  to  send  for  a  Dragoon  Regiment  with  orders 
to  charge :  the  dragoon  officers  mount ;  the  dragoon  men  will 
not :  hope  is  none  there  for  him.  The  street,  as  we  say,  barri¬ 
caded;  the  Earth  all  shut  out,  only  the  indifferent  heavenly 
Vault  overhead  :  perhaps  here  or  there  a  timorous  householder 
peering  out  of  window,  with  prayer  for  Bouille ;  copious  Ras¬ 
cality,  on  the  pavement,  with  prayer  for  Salm :  there  do  the 
two  parties  stand  ;  —  like  chariots  locked  in  a  narrow  thorough¬ 
fare  ;  like  locked  wrestlers  at  a  dead-grip !  Eor  two  hours 
they  stand :  Bouille’s  sword  glittering  in  his  hand,  adamantine 
resolution  clouding  his  brows  :  for  two  hours  by  the  clocks  of 
Metz.  Moody-silent  stands  Salm,  with  occasional  clangor ;  but 
does  not  fire.  Rascality,  from  time  to  time,  urges  some  grena¬ 
dier  to  level  his  musket  at  the  General ;  who  looks  on  it  as 
a  bronze  General  would  :  and  always  some  corporal  or  other 
strikes  it  up. 

In  such  remarkable  attitude,  standing  on  that  staircase  for 
two  hours,  does  brave  Bouille,  long  a  shadow,  dawn  on  us 
visibly  out  of  the  dimness,  and  become  a  person.  For  the 
rest,  since  Salm  has  not  shot  him  at  the  first  instant,  and 
since  in  himself  there  is  no  variableness,  the  danger  will  di¬ 
minish.  The  Mayor,  “  a  man  infinitely  respectable,”  with  his 
Municipals  and  tricolor  sashes,  finally  gains  entrance ;  remon¬ 
strates,  perorates,  promises  ;  gets  Salm  persuaded  home  to  its 
barracks.  Next  day,  our  respectable  Mayor  lending  the  money, 
the  officers  pay  down  the  half  of  the  demand  in  ready  cash. 
With  which  liquidation  Salm  pacifies  itself ;  and  for  the 
present  all  is  hushed  up,  as  much  as  may  be.1 

Such  scenes  as  this  of  Metz,  or  preparations  and  demon¬ 
strations  towards  such,  are  universal  over  France :  Damp- 
martin,  with  his  knotted  forage-cords  and  piled  chamois-jack¬ 
ets,  is  at  Strasburg,  in  the  Southeast ;  in  these  same  days  or 

1  Bouille,  i.  140-145. 


Chap.  IY.  ARREARS  AT  NANCI.  357 

August. 

rather  nights,  Royal  Champagne  is  “  shouting  Vive  la  Nation , 
au  diahle  les  Aristocrates ,  with  some  thirty  lit  candles,”  at 
Hesdin,  on  the  far  Northwest.  “The  garrison  of  Bitche,” 
Deputy  Rewbell  is  sorry  to  state,  “went  out  of  the  town  with 
drums  beating ;  deposed  its  officers ;  and  then  returned  into 
the  town,  sabre  in  hand.”  1  Ought  not  a  National  Assembly 
to  occupy  itself  with  these  objects  ?  Military  France  is  every¬ 
where  full  of  sour  inflammatory  humor,  which  exhales  itself 
fuliginously,  this  way  or  that :  a  whole  continent  of  smoking 
flax ;  which,  blown  on  here  or  there  by  any  angry  wind,  might 
so  easily  start  into  a  blaze,  into  a  continent  of  fire. 

Constitutional  Patriotism  is  in  deep  natural  alarm  at  these 
things.  The  august  Assembly  sits  diligently  deliberating ; 
dare  nowise  resolve,  with  Mirabeau,  on  an  instantaneous  dis¬ 
bandment  and  extinction ;  finds  that  a  course  of  palliatives  is 
easier.  But  at  least  and  lowest,  this  grievance  of  the  Arrears 
shall  be  rectified.  A  plan,  much  noised  of  in  those  days,  under 
the  name,  “  Decree  of  the  Sixth  of  August,”  has  been  devised 
for  that.  Inspectors  shall  visit  all  armies ;  and,  with  certain 
elected  corporals  and  “soldiers  able  to  write,”  verify  what 
arrears  and  peculations  do  lie  due,  and  make  them  good.  Well 
if  in  this  way  the  smoky  heat  be  cooled  down ;  if  it  be  not, 
as  we  say,  ventilated  overmuch,  or,  by  sparks  and  collision 
somewhere,  sent  up!  , 

- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  IY. 

ARREARS  AT  NANCI. 

We  are  to  remark,  however,  that  of  all  districts,  this  of 
Bouille’s  seems  the  inflammablest.  It  was  always  to  Bouille 
and  Metz  that  Royalty  would  fly :  Austria  lies  near ;  here 
more  than  elsewhere  must  the  disunited  People  look  over  the 
borders,  into  a  dim  sea  of  Foreign  Politics  and  Diplomacies, 
with  hope  or  apprehension,  with  mutual  exasperation. 

It  was  but  in  these  days  that  certain  Austrian  troops,  march- 
1  Moniteur  (in  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  29). 


358  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

ing  peaceably  across  an  angle  of  this  region,  seemed  an  Inva¬ 
sion  realized ;  and  there  rushed  towards  Stenai,  with  musket 
on  shoulder,  from  all  the  winds,  some  thirty  thousand  National 
Guards,  to  inquire  what  the  matter  was.1  A  matter  of  mere 
diplomacy  it  proved ;  the  Austrian  Kaiser,  in  haste  to  get  to 
Belgium,  had  bargained  for  this  short  cut.  The  infinite  dim 
movement  of  European  Politics  waved  a  skirt  over  these 
spaces,  passing  on  its  way  ;  like  the  passing  shadow  of  a 
condor;  and  such  a  winged  flight  of  thirty  thousand,  with 
mixed  cackling  and  crowing,  rose  in  consequence !  For,  in 
addition  to  all,  this  people,  as  we  said,  is  much  divided :  Aris¬ 
tocrats  abound ;  Patriotism  has  both  Aristocrats  and  Austrians 
to  watch.  It  is  Lorraine,  this  region ;  not  so  illuminated  as 
old  France  :  it  remembers  ancient  Feudalisms  ;  nay  within 
man’s  memory  it  had  a  Court  and  King  of  its  own,  or  indeed 
the  splendor  of  a  Court  and  King,  without  the  burden.  Then, 
contrariwise,  the  Mother  Society,  which  sits  in  the  Jacobins 
Church  at  Paris,  has  Daughters  in  the  Towns  here  ;  shrill- 
tongued,  driven  acrid :  consider  how  the  memory  of  good 
King  Stanislaus,  and  ages  of  Imperial  Feudalism,  may  com¬ 
port  with  this  New  acrid  Evangel,  and  what  a  virulence  of 
discord  there  may  be  !  In  all  which,  the  Soldiery,  officers  on 
one  side,  private  men  on  the  other,  takes  part,  and  now  indeed 
principal  part;  a  Soldiery,  moreover,  all  the  hotter  here  as  it 
lies  the  denser,  the  frontier  Province  requiring  more  of  it. 

So  stands  Lorraine :  but  the  capital  City  more  especially  so. 
The  pleasant  City  of  Nanci,  which  faded  Feudalism  loves, 
where  King  Stanislaus  personally  dwelt  and  shone,  has  an 
Aristocrat  Municipality,  and  then  also  a  Daughter  Society  : 
it  has  some  forty  thousand  divided  souls  of  population ;  and 
three  large  Kegiments,  one  of  which  is  Swiss  Chateau-Vieux, 
dear  to  Patriotism  ever  since  it  refused  fighting,  or  was 
thought  to  refuse,  in  the  Bastille  days.  Here  unhappily  all 
evil  influences  seem  to  meet  concentred ;  here,  of  all  places, 
may  jealousy  and  heat  evolve  itself.  These  many  months, 
accordingly,  man  has  been  set  against  man,  Washed  against 
Unwashed;  Patriot  Soldier  against  Aristocrat  Captain,  ever 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  9  Aout,  1790. 


Chap.  IV.  ARREARS  AT  NANCI.  359 

August. 

the  more  bitterly:  and  a  long  score  of  grudges  has  been 
running  up. 

Namable  grudges,  and  likewise  unnamable :  for  there  is  a 
punctual  nature  in  Wrath  5  and  daily,  were  there  but  glances 
of  the  eye,  tones  of  the  voice,  and  minutest  commissions  or 
omissions,  it  will  jot  down  somewhat,  do  account,  under  the 
head  of  sundries,  which  always  swells  the  sum-total.  For 
example,  in  April  last,  in  those  times  of  preliminary  Federa¬ 
tion,  when  National  Guards  and  Soldiers  were  everywhere 
swearing  brotherhood,  and  all  France  was  locally  federating, 
preparing  for  the  grand  National  Feast  of  Pikes,  it  was  ob¬ 
served  that  these  Nanci  Officers  threw  cold  water  on  the  whole 
brotherly  business ;  that  they  first  hung  back  from  appearing 
at  the  Nanci  Federation;  then  did  appear,  but  in  mere  redin- 
gote  and  undress,  with  scarcely  a  clean  shirt  on ;  nay  that  one 
of  them,  as  the  National  Colors  flaunted  by  in  that  solemn 
moment,  did,  without  visible  necessity,  take  occasion  to  spit.1 

Small  “  sundries  as  per  journal,”  but  then  incessant  ones ! 
The  Aristocrat  Municipality,  pretending  to  be  Constitutional, 
keeps  mostly  quiet ;  not  so  the  Daughter  Society,  the  five 
thousand  adult  male  Patriots  of  the  place,  still  less  the  five 
thousand  female :  not  so  the  young,  whiskered  or  whiskerless, 
four-generation  Noblesse  in  epaulettes ;  the  grim  Patriot  Swiss 
of  Chateau-Vieux,  effervescent  infantry  of  Regiment  du  Roi, 
hot  troopers  of  Mestre-de-Camp  !  Walled  Nanci,  which  stands 
so  bright  and  trim,  with  its  straight  streets,  spacious  squares, 
and  Stanislaus’  Architecture,  on  the  fruitful  alluvium  of  the 
Meurthe ;  so  bright,  amid  the  yellow  cornfields  in  these  Reaper- 
Months,  —  is  inw-ardly  but  a  den  of  discord,  anxiety,  inflamma¬ 
bility,  not  far  from  exploding.  Let  Bouille  look  to  it.  If  that 
universal  military  heat,  which  we  liken  to  a  vast  continent  of 
smoking  flax,  do  anywhere  take  fire,  his  beard,  here  in  Lor¬ 
raine  and  Nanci,  may  the  most  readily  of  all  get  singed  by  it. 

Bouille,  for  his  part,  is  busy  enough,  but  only  with  the  gen¬ 
eral  superintendence ;  getting  his  pacified  Salm,  and  all  other 
still  tolerable  Regiments,  marched  out  of  Metz,  to  southward 

1  Deux  Amis ,  v.  217. 


360  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

towns  and  villages  ;  to  rural  Cantonments  as  at  Vie,  Marsal 
and  thereabout,  by  the  still  waters  ;  where  is  plenty  of  horse- 
forage,  sequestered  parade-ground,  and  the  soldier’s  speculative 
faculty  can  be  stilled  by  drilling.  Salm,  as  we  said,  received 
only  half  payment  of  arrears  ;  naturally  not  without  grum¬ 
bling.  Nevertheless  that  scene  of  the  drawn  sword  may,  after 
all,  have  raised  Bouille  in  the  mind  of  Salm  ;  for  men  and 
soldiers  love  intrepidity  and  swift  inflexible  decision,  even 
when  they  suffer  by  it.  As  indeed  is  not  this  fundamentally 
the  quality  of  qualities  for  a  man  ?  A  quality  which  by  itself 
is  next  to  nothing,  since  inferior  animals,  asses,  dogs,  even 
mules  have  it ;  yet,  in  due  combination,  it  is  the  indispensable 
basis  of  all: 

Of  Nanci  and  its  heats,  Bouille,  commander  of  the  whole, 
knows  nothing  special :  understands  generally  that  the  troops 
in  that  City  are  perhaps  the  worst d  The  Officers  there  have 
it  all,  as  they  have  long  had  it,  to  themselves  ;  and  unhappily 
seem  to  manage  it  ill.  “  Fifty  yellow  furloughs,”  given  out 
in  one  batch,  do  surely  betoken  difficulties.  But  what  was 
Patriotism  to  think  of  certain  light-fencing  Fusileers  “  set  on,” 
or  supposed  to  be  set  on,  “  to  insult  the  Grenadier-club,”  — 
considerate  speculative  Grenadiers  and  that  reading-room  of 
theirs  ?  With  shoutings,  with  hootings ;  till  the  speculative 
Grenadier  drew  his  side-arms  too ;  and  there  ensued  battery 
and  duels !  Nay  more,  are  not  swashbucklers  of  the  same 
stamp  “  sent  out  ”  visibly,  or  sent  out  presumably,  now  in  the 
dress  of  Soldiers,  to  pick  quarrels  with  the  Citizens ;  now  dis¬ 
guised  as  Citizens,  to  pick  quarrels  with  the  Soldiers  ?  For  a 
certain  Roussiere,  expert  in  fence,  was  taken,  in  the  very  fact ; 
four  Officers  (presumably  of  tender  years)  hounding  him  on, 
who  thereupon  fled  precipitately  !  Fence-master  Roussiere, 
haled  to  the  guard-house,  had  sentence  of  three  months’  im¬ 
prisonment :  but  his  comrades  demanded  “yellow  furlough” 
for  him  of  all  persons ;  nay  thereafter  they  produced  him 
on  parade ;  capped  him  in  paper-helmet,  inscribed  Iscariot ; 
marched  him  to  the  gate  of  the  City  ;  and  there  sternly  com¬ 
manded  him  to  vanish  forevermore. 

4  1  Bouille,  i.  c.  9. 


Chap.  IV.  ARREARS  AT  NANCI.  361 

August. 

On  all  which  suspicions,  accusations  and  noisy  procedure, 
and  on  enough  of  the  like  continually  accumulating,  the  Officer 
could  not  but  look  with  disdainful  indignation ;  perhaps  dis¬ 
dainfully  express  the  same  in  words,  and  “  soon  after  fly  over 
to  the  Austrians.” 

So  that  when  it  here,  as  elsewhere,  comes  to  the  question  of 
Arrears,  the  humor  and  procedure  is  of  the  bitterest :  Regiment 
Mestre-de-Camp  getting,  amid  loud  clamor,  some  three  gold 
louis  a  man,  —  which  have,  as  usual,  to  be  borrowed  from  the 
Municipality ;  Swiss  Chateau-Vieux  applying  for  the  like,  but 
getting  instead  instantaneous  courrois,  or  cat-o’-nine-tails,  with 
subsequent  unsufferable  hisses  from  the  women  and  children : 
Regiment  du  Roi,  sick  of  hope  deferred,  at  length  seizing  its 
military  chest,  and  marching  it  to  quarters,  but  next  day 
marching  it  back  again,  through  streets  all  struck  silent :  — 
unordered  paradings  and  clamors,  not  without  strong  liquor ; 
objurgation,  insubordination;  your  military  ranked  Arrange¬ 
ment  going  all  (as  the  Typographers  say  of  set  types,  in  a 
similar  case)  rapidly  to  pie!1  Such  is  Nanci  in  these  early 
days  of  August ;  the  sublime  Feast  of  Pikes  not  yet  a  month 
old. 

Constitutional  Patriotism,  at  Paris  and  elsewhere,  may  well 
quake  at  the  news.  War-Minister  Latour  du  Pin  runs  breath¬ 
less  to  the  National  Assembly,  with  a  written  message  that 
“all  is  burning,  tout  brute ,  tout  pressed  The  National  Assem¬ 
bly,  on  the  spur  of  the  instant,  renders  such  Decret,  and  “  order 
to  submit  and  repent,”  as  he  requires  ;  if  it  will  avail  anything. 
On  the  other  hand,  Journalism,  through  all  its  throats,  gives 
hoarse  outcry,  condemnatory,  elegiac-applausive.  The  Forty- 
eight  Sections  lift  up  voices  ;  sonorous  Brewer,  or  call  him  now 
Colonel  Santerre,  is  not  silent,  in  the  Faubourg  Saint- Antoine. 
For,  meanwhile,  the  Nanci  Soldiers  have  sent  a  Deputation 
of  Ten,  furnished  with  documents  and  proofs ;  who  will  tell 
another  story  than  the  “  all-is-burning  ”  one.  Which  deputed 
Ten,  before  ever  they  reach  the  Assembly  Hall,  assiduous 
Latour  du  Pin  picks  up,  and,  on  warrant  of  Mayor  Bailly,  claps 
in  prison !  Most  unconstitutionally  ;  for  they  had  officer’s  fur- 

1  Deux  Amis,  v.  c.  8. 


362  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

loughs.  Whereupon  Saint-Antoine,  in  indignant  uncertainty 
of  the  future,  closes  its  shops.  Is  Bouille  a  traitor,  then,  sold 
to  Austria  ?  In  that  case,  these  poor  private  sentinels  have 
revolted  mainly  out  of  Patriotism  ? 

New  Deputation,  Deputation  of  National  Guardsmen  now, 
sets  forth  from  Nanci  to  enlighten  the  Assembly.  It  meets 
the  old  deputed  Ten  returning,  quite  unexpectedly  changed ; 
and  proceeds  thereupon  with  better  prospects ;  but  effects 
nothing.  Deputations,  Government  Messengers,  Orderlies  at 
hand-gallop,  Alarms,  thousand-voiced  Rumors,  go  vibrating 
continually  ;  backwards  and  forwards,  —  scattering  distraction. 
Not  till  the  last  week  of  August  does  M.  de  Malseigne,  selected 
as  Inspector,  get  down  to  the  scene  of  mutiny ;  with  Authority, 
with  cash,  and  “Decree  of  the  Sixth  of  August.”  He  now 
shall  see  these  Arrears  liquidated,  justice  done,  or  at  least 
tumult  quashed. 

- o - 


CHAPTER  V. 

INSPECTOR  MALSEIGNE. 

Of  Inspector  Malseigne  we  discern,  by  direct  light,  that  he 
is  “  of  Herculean  stature  ;  ”  and  infer,  with  probability,  that  he 
is  of  truculent  mustachioed  aspect,  —  for  Royalist  Officers  now 
leave  the  upper  lip  unshaven ;  that  he  is  of  indomitable  bull- 
heart  :  and  also,  unfortunately,  of  thick  bull-head. 

On  Tuesday  the  24th  of  August,  1790,  he  opens  session  as 
Inspecting  Commissioner ;  meets  those  “  elected  corporals,  and 
soldiers  that  can  write.”  He  finds  the  accounts  of  Chfiteau- 
Vieux  to  be  complex ;  to  require  delay  and  reference  :  he  takes 
to  haranguing,  to  reprimanding ;  ends  amid  audible  grumbling. 
Next  morning,  he  resumes  session,  not  at  the  Town-hall  as  pru¬ 
dent  Municipals  counselled,  but  once  more  at  the  barracks. 
Unfortunately  Chateau-Vieux,  grumbling  all  night,  will  now 
hear  of  no  delay  or  reference ;  from  reprimanding  on  his  part, 


Chap.  V.  INSPECTOR  MALSEIGNE.  363 

August  24-26. 

it  goes  to  bullying,  —  answered  with  continual  cries  of  “  Jugez 
tout  de  suite ,  Judge  it  at  once ;  ”  whereupon  M.  de  Malseigne 
will  off  in  a  huff.  But  lo,  Chateau-Vieux,  swarming  all  about 
the  barrack-court,  has  sentries  at  every  gate ;  M.  de  Malseigne, 
demanding  egress,  cannot  get  it,  not  though  Commandant 
Denoue  backs  him,  can  get  only  “  Jugez  tout  de  suite.”  Here 
is  a  nodus ! 

Bull-hearted  M.  de  Malseigne  draws  his  sword;  and  will 
force  egress.  Confused  splutter.  M.  de  Malseigne’s  sword 
breaks :  he  snatches  Commandant  Denoue’s :  the  sentry  is 
wounded.  M.  de  Malseigne,  whom  one  is  loth  to  kill,  does 
force  egress,  —  followed  by  Chateau-Vieux  all  in  disarray ;  a 
spectacle  to  Nanci.  M.  de  Malseigne  walks  at  a  sharp  pace, 
yet  never  runs ;  wheeling  from  time  to  time,  with  menaces  and 
movements  of  fence  ;  and  so  reaches  Denoue’s  house,  unhurt ; 
which  house  Chateau-Vieux,  in  an  agitated  manner,  invests,  — 
hindered  as  yet  from  entering,  by  a  crowd  of  officers  formed  on 
the  staircase.  M.  de  Malseigne  retreats  by  back  ways  to  the 
Town-hall,  flustered  though  undaunted ;  amid  an  escort  of  Na¬ 
tional  Guards.  From  the  Town-hall  he,  on  the  morrow,  emits 
fresh  orders,  fresh  plans  of  settlement  with  Chateau-Vieux ; 
•  to  none  of  which  will  Chateau-Vieux  listen :  whereupon  he 
finally,  amid  noise  enough,  emits  order  that  Chateau-Vieux 
shall  march  on  the  morrow  morning,  and  quarter  at  Sarre 
Louis.  Chateau-Vieux  flatly  refuses  marching ;  M.  de  Mal¬ 
seigne  “  takes  act  ”  due  notarial  protest,  of  such  refusal,  —  if 
happily  that  may  avail  him. 

This  is  the  end  of  Thursday ;  and,  indeed,  of  M.  de  Mal- 
seigne’s  Inspectorship,  which  has  lasted  some  fifty  hours.  To 
such  length,  in  fifty  hours,  has  he  unfortunately  brought  it. 
Mestre-de-Camp  and  Regiment  du  Roi  hang,  as  it  were,  flutter¬ 
ing  ;  Chateau-Vieux  is  clean  gone,  in  what  way  we  see.  Over¬ 
night,  an  Aide-de-Camp  of  Lafayette’s,  stationed  here  for  such 
emergency,  sends  swift  emissaries  far  and  wide  to  summon 
National  Guards.  The  slumber  of  the  country  is  broken  by 
clattering  hoofs,  by  loud  fraternal  knockings  ;  everywhere  the 
Constitutional  Patriot  must  clutch  his  fighting-gear,  and  take 
the  road  for  Nanci. 


364  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

And  thus  the  Herculean  Inspector  has  sat  all  Thursday, 
among  terror-struck  Municipals,  a  centre  of  confused  noise : 
all  Thursday,  Friday,  and  till  Saturday  towards  noon.  Cha- 
teau-Vieux,  in  spite  of  the  notarial  protest,  will  not  march  a 
step.  As  many  as  four  thousand  National  Guards  are  drop¬ 
ping  or  pouring  in ;  uncertain  what  is  expected  of  them,  still 
more  uncertain  what  will  be  obtained  of  them.  For  all  is  un* 
certainty,  commotion  and  suspicion:  there  goes  a  word  that 
Bouille,  beginning  to  bestir  himself  in  the  rural  Cantonments 
eastward,  is  but  a  Eoyalist  traitor ;  that  Chateau-Vieux  and 
Patriotism  are  sold  to  Austria,  of  which  latter  M.  de  Malseigne 
is  probably  some  agent.  Mestre-de-Camp  and  Hoi  flutter  still 
more  questionably;  Chateau-Vieux,  far  from  marching,  u  waves 
red  flags  out  of  two  carriages/’  in  a  passionate  manner, 
along  the  streets ;  and  next  morning  answers  its  Officers : 
“  Pay  us,  then ;  and  we  will  march  with  you  to  the  world’s 
end !  ” 

Under  which  circumstances,  towards  noon  on  Saturday, 
M.  de  Malseigne  thinks  it  were  good  perhaps  to  inspect  the 
ramparts,  —  on  horseback.  He  mounts,  accordingly,  with  es¬ 
cort  of  three  troopers.  At  the  gate  of  the  City,  he  bids  two 
of  them  wait  for  his  return;  and  with  the  third,  a  trooper 
to  be  depended  upon,  he  —  gallops  oft  for  Luneville ;  where 
lies  a  certain  Carbineer  Regiment  not  yet  in  a  mutinous  state ! 
The  two  left  troopers  soon  get  uneasy;  discover  how  it  is, 
and  give  the  alarm.  Mestre-de-Camp,  to  the  number  of  a 
hundred,  saddles  in  frantic  haste,  as  if  sold  to  Austria ;  gal¬ 
lops  out  pell-mell  in  chase  of  its  Inspector.  And  so  they  spur, 
and  the  Inspector  spurs  ;  careering,  with  noise  and  jingle,  up 
the  valley  of  the  River  Meurthe,  towards  Luneville  and  the 
midday  sun :  through  an  astonished  country ;  indeed  almost 
to  their  own  astonishment. 

What  a  hunt ;  Actaeon-like  ;  —  which  Actaeon  de  Malseigne 
happily  gains.  To  arms,  ye  Carbineers  of  Luneville :  to  chas¬ 
tise  mutinous  men,  insulting  your  General  Officer,  insulting 
your  own  quarters  ;  —  above  all  things,  fire  soon,  lest  there  be 
parleying  and  ye  refuse  to  fire  !  The  Carbineers  fire  soon, 
exploding  upon  the  first  stragglers  of  Mestre-de-Camp ;  who 


Chap.  V.  INSPECTOR  MALSEIGNE.  365 

August  29. 

shriek  at  the  very  flash,  and  fall  back  hastily  on  Nanci,  in  a 
state  not  far  from  distraction.  Panic  and  fury  :  sold  to  Aus¬ 
tria  without  an  if;  so  much  per  regiment,  the  very  sums 
can  be  specified ;  and  traitorous  Malseigne  is  fled !  Help, 
0  Heaven ;  help,  thou  Earth,  —  ye  unwashed  Patriots ;  ye 
too  are  sold  like  us  ! 

Effervescent  Regiment  du  Roi  primes  its  firelocks,  Mestre- 
de-Camp  saddles  wholly :  Commandant  Denoue  is  seized,  is 
flung  in  prison  with  a  “  canvas-shirt  (sarreau  de  toile )  ”  about 
him ;  Chateau-Vieux  bursts  up  the  magazines  ;  distributes 
“  three  thousand  fusils  ”  to  a  Patriot  people  :  Austria  shall 
have  a  hot  bargain.  Alas,  the  unhappy  hunting-dogs,  as 
we  said,  have  hunted  away  their  huntsman ;  and  do  now  run 
howling  and  baying,  on  what  trail  they  know  not;  nigh 
rabid ! 

And  so  there  is  tumultuous  march  of  men,  through  the 
night;  with  halt  on  the  heights  of  Elinval,  whence  Luneville 
can  be  seen  all  illuminated.  Then  there  is  parley,  at  four 
in  the  morning ;  and  reparley ;  finally  there  is  agreement : 
the  Carbineers  gave  in ;  Malseigne  is  surrendered,  with  apolo¬ 
gies  on  all  sides.  After  weary  confused  hours,  he  is  even  got 
under  way  ;  the  Lunevillers  all  turning  out,  in  the  idle  Sun¬ 
day,  to  see  such  departure  :  home-going  of  Mutinous  Mestre-de- 
Camp  with  its  Inspector  captive.  Mestre-de-Camp  accordingly 
marches  ;  the  Lunevillers  look.  See  !  at  the  corner  of  the  first 
street,  our  Inspector  bounds  off  again,  bull-hearted  as  he  is ; 
amid  the  slash  of  sabres,  the  crackle  of  musketry  ;  and  escapes, 
full  gallop,  with  only  a  ball  lodged  in  his  bu E-jerkin.  The 
Herculean  man !  And  yet  it  is  an  escape  to  no  purpose.  For 
the  Carbineers,  to  whom  after  the  hardest  Sunday’s  ride  on 
record,  he  has  come  circling  back,  “  stand  deliberating  by  their 
nocturnal  watch-fires  ;  ”  deliberating  of  Austria,  of  traitors, 
and  the  rage  of  Mestre-de-Camp.  So  that,  on  the  whole,  the 
next  sight  we  have  is  that  of  M.  de  Malseigne,  on  the  Monday 
afternoon,  faring  bull-hearted  through  the  streets  of  Nanci ; 
in  open  carriage,  a  soldier  standing  over  him  with  drawn 
sword ;  amid  the  “  furies  of  the  women,”  hedges  of  Na¬ 
tional  Guards,  and  confusion  of  Babel :  to  the  Prison  beside 


366  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

Commandant  Denoue  !  That  finally  is  the  lodging  of  Inspec¬ 
tor  Malseigne.1 

Surely  it  is  time  Bouille  were  drawing  near.  The  Country 
all  round,  alarmed  with  watch-fires,  illuminated  towns,  and 
marching  and  rout,  has  been  sleepless  these  several  nights. 
Nanci,  with  its  uncertain  National  Guards,  with  its  distributed 
fusils,  mutinous  soldiers,  black  panic  and  red-hot  ire,  is  not  a 
City  but  a  Bedlam. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BOUILLE  AT  NANCI. 

Haste  with  help,  thou  brave  Bouille :  if  swift  help  come 
not,  all  is  now  verily  “  burning  ;  ”  and  may  burn,  —  to  what 
lengths  and  breadths !  Much,  in  these  hours,  depends  on 
Bouille ;  as  it  shall  now  fare  with  him,  the  whole  Future  may 
be  this  way  or  be  that.  If,  for  example,  he  were  to  loiter 
dubitating,  and  not  come  ;  if  he  were  to  come,  and  fail :  the 
whole  Soldiery  of  France  to  blaze  into  mutiny,  National 
Guards  going  some  this  way,  some  that;  and  Royalism  to 
draw  its  rapier,  and  Sansculottism  to  snatch  its  pike  ;  and  the 
Spirit  of  Jacobinism,  as  yet  young,  girt  with  sun-rays,  to 
grow  instantaneously  mature,  girt  with  hell-fire,  —  as  mortals, 
in  one  night  of  deadly  crisis,  have  had  their  heads  turned 
gray! 

Brave  Bouille  is  advancing  fast,  with  the  old  inflexibility ; 
gathering  himself,  unhappily  “  in  small  affluences,”  from  East, 
from  West  and  North ;  and  now  on  Tuesday  morning,  the 
last  day  of  the  month,  he  stands  all  cencentred,  unhappily 
still  in  small  force,  at  the  village  of  Frouarde,  within  some 
few  miles.  Son  of  Adam  with  a  more  dubious  task  before 
him  is  not  in  the  world  this  Tuesday  morning.  A  weltering 

1  Deux  Amis,  v.  206-251.  Newspapers  and  Documents  (in  Hist.  Pari.  vii. 
59-162). 


Chap.  VI.  BOUILLE  AT  NANCI.  367 

August  31. 

inflammable  sea  of  doubt  and  peril,  and  Bouille  sure  of  simply 
one  thing,  his  own  determination.  Which  one  thing,  in¬ 
deed,  may  be  worth  many.  He  puts  a  most  firm  face  on  the 
matter :  “  Submission,  or  unsparing  battle  and  destruction ; 
twenty-four  hours  to  make  your  choice  :  ”  this  was  the  tenor 
of  his  Proclamation ;  thirty  copies  of  which  he  sent  yester¬ 
day  to  Nanci :  —  all  which,  we  find,  were  intercepted  and  not 
posted.1 

Nevertheless,  at  half-past  eleven  this  morning,  seemingly 
by  way  of  answer,  there  does  wait  on  him  at  Frouarde  some 
Deputation  from  the  mutinous  Regiments,  from  the  Nanci 
Municipals,  to  see  what  can  be  done.  Bouille  receives  this 
Deputation  “in  a  large  open  court  adjoining  his  lodging:” 
pacified  Salm,  and  the  rest,  attend  also,  being  invited  to  do 
it,  —  all  happily  still  in  the  right  humor.  The  Mutineers 
pronounce  themselves  with  a  decisiveness,  which  to  Bouille 
seems  insolence ;  and  happily  to  Salm  also,  Salm,  forgetful 
of  the  Metz  staircase  and  sabre,  demands  that  the  scoundrels 
“  be  hanged  ”  there  and  then.  Bouille  represses  the  hanging  ; 
but  answers  that  mutinous  Soldiers  have  one  course,  and  not 
more  than  one :  To  liberate,  with  heartfelt  contrition,  Mes¬ 
sieurs  Denoue  and  De  Malseigne  ;  to  get  ready  forthwith  for 
marching  off,  whither  he  shall  order ;  and  “  submit  and  re¬ 
pent,”  as  the  National  Assembly  has  decreed,  as  he  yesterday 
did  in  thirty  printed  Placards  proclaim.  These  are  his  terms, 
unalterable  as  the  decrees  of  Destiny.  Which  terms  as  they, 
the  Mutineer  deputies,  seemingly  do  not  accept,  it  were  good 
for  them  to  vanish  from  this  spot,  and  even  to  do  it  promptly ; 
with  him  too,  in  few  instants,  the  word  will  be,  Forward  ! 
The  Mutineer  deputies  vanish,  not  unpromptly ;  the  Municipal 
ones,  anxious  beyond  right  for  their  own  individualities,  prefer 
abiding  with  Bouille. 

Brave  Bouille,  though  he  puts  a  most  firm  face  on  the 
matter,  knows  his  position  full  well :  how  at  Nanci,  what 
with  rebellious  soldiers,  with  uncertain  National  Guards,  and 
so  many  distributed  fusils,  there  rage  and  roar  some  ten  thou- 

1  Compare  Bouille,  Memoires,  i.  153-176;  Deux  Amis,  v.  251-271  ;  Hist. 
Pari,  ubi  supr&. 


368  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

sand  fighting  men  ;  while  with  himself  is  scarcely  the  third 
part  of  that  number,  in  National  Guards  also  uncertain,  in 
mere  pacified  Regiments,  —  for  the  present  full  of  rage,  and 
clamor  to  march ;  but  whose  rage  and  clamor  may  next  moment 
take  such  a  fatal  neiv  figure.  On  the  top  of  one  uncertain  bil¬ 
low,  therewith  to  calm  billows  !  Bouille  must  “  abandon  him¬ 
self  to  Fortune  ;  ”  who  is  said  sometimes  to  favor  the  brave. 
At  half-past  twelve,  the  Mutineer  deputies  having  vanished, 
our  drums  beat ;  we  march :  for  Nanci !  Let  Nanci  bethink 
itself,  then  ;  for  Bouille  has  thought  and  determined. 

And  yet  how  shall  Nanci  think :  not  a  City  but  a  Bedlam ! 
Grim  Chateau-Vieux  is  for  defence  to  the  death  ;  forces  the 
Municipality  to  order,  by  tap  of  drum,  all  citizens  acquainted 
with  artillery  to  turn  out,  and  assist  in  managing  the  cannon. 
On  the  other  hand,  effervescent  Regiment  du  Roi  is  drawn  up 
in  its  barracks ;  quite  disconsolate,  hearing  the  humor  Salm  is 
in;  and  ejaculates  dolefully  from  its  thousand  throats:  “La 
loi,  la  loi,  Law,  law !  ”  Mestre-de-Camp  blusters,  with  profane 
swearing,  in  mixed  terror  and  furor;  National  Guards  look 
this  way  and  that,  not  knowing  what  to  do.  What  a  Bedlam- 
City  :  as  many  plans  as  heads ;  all  ordering,  none  obeying : 
quiet  none,  —  except  the  Dead,  who  sleep  underground,  having 
done  their  fighting. 

And,  behold,  Bouille  proves  as  good  as  his  word  :  “  at  half¬ 
past  two  ”  scouts  report  that  he  is  within  half  a  league  of  the 
gates  ;  rattling  along,  with  cannon  and  array ;  breathing  noth¬ 
ing  but  destruction.  A  new  Deputation,  Municipals,  Muti¬ 
neers,  Officers,  goes  out  to  meet  him ;  with  passionate  entreaty 
for  yet  one  other  hour.  Bouille  grants  an  hour.  Then,  at  the 
end  thereof,  no  Denoue  or  Malseigne  appearing  as  promised, 
he  rolls  his  drums,  and  again  takes  the  road.  Towards  four 
o’clock,  the  terror-struck  Townsmen  may  see  him  face  to  face. 
His  cannons  rattle  there,  in  their  carriages  ;  his  vanguard  is 
within  thirty  paces  of  the  Gate  Stanislaus.  Onward  like  a 
Planet,  by  appointed  times,  by  law  of  Nature  !  What  next  ?  . 
Lo,  flag  of  truce  and  chamade  ;  conjuration  to  halt :  Malseigne 
and  Denoue  are  on  the  street,  coming  hither ;  the  soldiers  all 
repentant,  ready  to  submit  and  march  !  Adamantine  Bouille’s 


Chap.  VI.  BOUILLE  AT  NANCI.  369 

August  31. 

look  alters  not ;  yet  the  word  Halt  is  given  :  gladder  moment 
he  never  saw.  Joy  of  joys  !  Malseigne  and  Denoue  do  verily 
issue ;  escorted  by  National  Guards  j  from  streets  all  frantic, 
with  sale  to  Austria  and  so  forth :  they  salute  Bouille,  un¬ 
scathed.  Bouille  steps  aside  to  speak  with  them,  and  with 
other  heads  of  the  Town  there ;  having  already  ordered  by 
what  Gates  and  Routes  the  mutineer  Regiments  shall  file  out. 

Such  colloquy  with  these  two  General  Officers  and  other 
principal  Townsmen  was  natural  enough ;  nevertheless  one 
wishes  Bouille  had  postponed  it,  and  not  stepped  aside.  Such 
tumultuous  inflammable  masses,  tumbling  along,  making  way 
for  each  other ;  this  of  keen  nitrous  oxide,  that  of  sulphurous 
fire-damp,  —  were  it  not  well  to  stand  between  them,  keeping 
them  well  separate,  till  the  space  be  cleared  ?  Numerous 
stragglers  of  Chateau -Yieux  and  the  rest  have  not  marched 
with  their  main  columns,  which  are  filing  out  by  the  appointed 
Gates,  taking  station  in  the  open  meadows.  National  Guards 
are  in  a  state  of  nearly  distracted  uncertainty  j  the  populace, 
armed  and  unarmed,  roll  openly  delirious,  —  betrayed,  sold  to 
the  Austrians,  sold  to  the  Aristocrats.  There  are  loaded  can¬ 
non,  with  lit  matches,  among  them,  and  BouilLYs  vanguard  is 
halted  within  thirty  paces  of  the  Gate.  Command  dwells  not 
in  that  mad  inflammable  mass  ;  which  smoulders  and  tumbles 
there,  in  blind  smoky  rage ;  which  will  not  open  the  Gate 
when  summoned ;  says  it  will  open  the  cannon’s  throat  sooner  ! 
—  Cannonade  not,  0  Friends,  or  be  it  through  my  body  !  cries 
heroic  young  Desilles,  young  Captain  of  Roi  clasping  the  mur¬ 
derous  engine  in  his  arms,  and  holding  it.  Chateau-Vieux 
Swiss,  by  main  force,  with  oaths  and  menaces,  wrench  off  the 
heroic  youth ;  who  undaunted,  amid  still  louder  oaths,  seats 
himself  on  the  touch-hole.  Amid  still  louder  oaths,  with  ever 
louder  clangor,  —  and,  alas,  with  the  loud  crackle  of  first  one, 
and  then  of  three  other  muskets ;  which  explode  into  his 
body ;  which  roll  it  in  the  dust,  —  and  do  also,  in  the  loud 
madness  of  such  moment,  bring  lit  cannon-match  to  ready 
priming ;  and  so,  with  one  thunderous  belch  of  grape-shot, 
blast  some  fifty  of  Bouille’s  vanguard  into  air ! 

Fatal !  That  sputter  of  the  first  musket-shot  has  kindled 
vol.  in.  24 


370  NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

such  a  cannon-shot,  such  a  death-blaze  ;  and  all  is  now  red-hot 
madness,  conflagration  as  of  Tophet.  With  demoniac  rage, 
the  Bouille  vanguard  storms  through  that  Gate  Stanislaus ; 
with  fiery  sweep,  sweeps  Mutiny  clear  away,  to  death,  or  into 
shelters  and  cellars  ;  from  which  latter,  again,  Mutiny  con¬ 
tinues  firing.  The  ranked  Regiments  hear  it  in  their  meadow  ; 
they  rush  back  again  through  the  nearest  Gate  ;  Bouille  gallops 
in,  distracted,  inaudible ;  —  and  now  has  begun  in  Nanci,  as  in 
that  doomed  Hall  of  the  Nibelungen,  “  a  murder  grim  and 
great.” 

Miserable :  such  scene  of  dismal  aimless  madness  as  the 
anger  of  Heaven  but  rarely  permits  among  men  !  From  cellar 
or  from  garret,  from  open  street  in  front,  from  successive 
corners  of  cross-streets  on  each  hand,  Chateau-Vieux  and 
Patriotism  keep  up  the  murderous  rolling-fire,  on  murderous 
not  Unpatriotic  fires.  Your  blue  National  Captain,  riddled 
with  balls,  one  hardly  knows  on  whose  side  fighting,  requests 
to  be  laid  on  the  colors  to  die  :  the  patriotic  Woman  (name 
not  given,  deed  surviving)  screams  to  Chateau-Vieux  that  it 
must  not  fire  the  other  cannon ;  and  even  flings  a  pail  of  water 
on  it,  since  screaming  avails  not.1  Thou  shalt  fight ;  thou 
shalt  not  fight ;  and  with  whom  shalt  thou  fight !  Could  tu¬ 
mult  awaken  the  old  Dead,  Burgundian  Charles  the  Bold 
might  stir  from  under  that  Rotunda  of  his :  never  since  he, 
raging,  sank  in  the  ditches,  and  lost  Life  and  Diamond,  was 
such  a  noise  heard  here. 

Three  thousand,  as  some  count,  lie  mangled,  gory  :  the  half 
of  Chateau-Vieux  has  been  shot,  without  need  of  Court-Mar¬ 
tial.  Cavalry,  of  Mestre-de-Camp  or  their  foes,  can  do  little. 
Regiment  du  Roi  was  persuaded  to  its  barracks ;  stands  there 
palpitating.  Bouille,  armed  with  the  terrors  of  the  Law,  and 
favored  of  Fortune,  finally  triumphs.  In  two  murderous  hours, 
he  has  penetrated  to  the  grand  Squares,  dauntless,  though 
with  loss  of  forty  officers  and  five  hundred  men  :  the  shattered 
remnants  of  Chfiteau-Vieux  are  seeking  covert.  Regiment  du 
Roi,  not  effervescent  now,  alas  no,  but  having  effervesced,  will 
offer  to  ground  its  arms  ;  will  “  march  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.” 

1  Deux  Amis,  v.  268. 


Chap.  VI.  BOUILLE  AT  NANCI.  371 

August  <31. 

Nay  these  poor  effervesced  require  “ escort”  to  march  with, 
and  get  it :  though  they  are  thousands  strong,  and  have  thirty 
ball-cartridges  a  man !  The  Sun  is  not  yet  down,  when  Peace, 
which  might  have  come  bloodless,  has  come  bloody  :  the  muti¬ 
nous  Regiments  are  on  march,  doleful,  on  their  three  Routes ; 
and  from  Nanci  rises  wail  of  women  and  men,  the  voice  of 
weeping  and  desolation ;  the  City  weeping  for  its  slain  who 
awaken  not.  These  streets  are  empty  but  for  victorious 
patrols. 

Thus  has  Fortune,  favoring  the  brave,  dragged  Bouille,  as 
himself  says,  out  of  such  a  frightful  peril  “  by  the  hair  of  the 
head.”  An  intrepid  adamantine  man,  this  Bouille:  —  had  he 
stood  in  old  Broglie’s  place  in  those  Bastille  days,  it  might 
have  been  all  different !  He  has  extinguished  mutiny,  and 
immeasurable  civil  war.  Not  for  nothing,  as  we  see ;  yet  at 
a  rate  which  he  and  Constitutional  Patriotism  consider  cheap. 
Nay,  as  for  Bouille,  he,  urged  by  subsequent  contradiction 
which  arose,  declares  coldly,  it  was  rather  against  his  own 
private  mind,  and  more  by- public  military  rule  of  duty,  that 
he  did  extinguish  it,1  —  immeasurable  civil  war  being  now  the 
only  chance.  Urged,  we  say,  by  subsequent  contradiction ! 
Civil  war,  indeed,  is  Chaos  ;  and  in  all  vital  Chaos  there  is 
new  Order  shaping  itself  free :  but  what  a  faith  this,  that  of 
all  new  Orders  out  of  Chaos  and  Possibility  of  Man  and  his 
Universe,  Louis  Sixteenth  and  Two-Chamber  Monarchy  were 
precisely  the  one  that  would  shape  itself !  It  is  like  under¬ 
taking  to  throw  deuce-ace,  say  only,  five  hundred  successive 
times,  and  any  other  throw  to  be  fatal  —  for  Bouille.  Rather 
thank  Fortune,  and  Heaven,  always,  thou  intrepid  Bouille ; 
and  let  contradiction  go  its  way  !  Civil  war,  conflagrating 
universally  over  France  at  this  moment,  might  have  led  to  one 
thing  or  to  another  thing :  meanwhile,  to  quench  conflagration, 
wheresoever  one  finds  it,  wheresoever  one  can ;  this,  in  all 
times,  is  the  rule  for  man  and  General  Officer. 

But  at  Paris,  so  agitated  and  divided,  fancy  how  it  went, 
when  the  continually  vibrating  Orderlies  vibrated  thither  at 

1  Bouille,  i.  175. 


872 


NANCI. 


Book  IX. 
1790. 


hand-gallop,  with  such  questionable  news  !  High  is  the  gratu- 
lation  ;  and  also  deep  the  indignation.  A-n  august  Assembly, 
by  overwhelming  majorities,  passionately  thanks  Bouille;  a 
King’s  autograph,  the  voices  of  all  Loyal,  all  Constitutional 
men  run  to  the  same  tenor.  A  solemn  National  funeral-ser¬ 
vice,  for  the  Law-defenders  slain  at  Nanci,  is  said  and  sung  in 
the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  Bailly,  Lafayette  and  National  Guards, 
all  except  the  few  that  protested,  assist.  With  pomp  and  cir¬ 
cumstance,  with  episcopal  Calicoes  in  tricolor  girdles,  Altar  of 
Fatherland  smoking  with  Cassolettes,  or  incense-kettles;  the 
vast  Champ-de-Mars  wholly  hung  round  with  black  mortcloth, 
—  which  mortcloth  and  expenditure  Marat  thinks  had  better 
have  been  laid  out  in  bread,  in  these  dear  days,  and  given  to 
the  hungry  living  Patriot.1  On  the  other  hand,  living  Patriot¬ 
ism,  and  Saint- Antoine,  which  we  have  seen  noisily  closing  its 
shops  and  such  like,  assembles  now  “to  the  number  of  forty 
thousand ;  ”  and,  with  loud  cries,  under  the  very  windows  of 
the  thanking  National  Assembly,  demands  revenge  for  mur¬ 
dered  Brothers,  judgment  on  Bouille,  and  instant  dismissal  of 
War-Minister  Latour  du  Pin. 

At  sound  and  sight  of  which  things,  if  not  War-Minister 
Latour,  yet  “Adored  Minister”  Necker  sees  good,  on  the  3d 
of  September,  1790,  to  withdraw  softly,  almost  privily,  — with 
an  eye  to  the  “  recovery  of  his  health.”  Home  to  native 
Switzerland ;  not  as  he  last  came  ;  lucky  to  reach  it  alive ! 
Fifteen  months  ago,  we  saw  him  coming,  with  escort  of  horse, 
with  sound  of  clarion  and  trumpet ;  and  now,  at  Arcis-sur- 
Aube,  while  he  departs,  unescorted,  soundless,  the  Populace  and 
Municipals  stop  him  as  a  fugitive,  are  not  unlike  massacring 
him  as  a  traitor  ;  the  National  Assembly,  consulted  on  the 
matter,  gives  him  free  egress  as  a  nullity.  Such  an  unstable 
“  drift-mould  of  Accident  ”  is  the  substance  of  this  lower 
world,  for  them  that  dwell  in  houses  of  clay  ;  so,  especially  in 
hot  regions  and  times,  do  the  proudest  palaces  we  build  of  it 
take  wings,  and  become  Sahara  sand-palaces  spinning  many- 
pillared  in  the  whirlwind,  and  bury  us  under  their  sand !  — 

In  spite  of  the  forty  thousand,  the  National  Assembly  per- 
1  Ami  du  Peuple  (in  Hist.  Pari  ubi  supr&). 


Chap.  VI.  BOUILLE  AT  NANCI.  373 

September. 

sists  in  its  thanks  ;  and  Royalist  Latour  du  Pin  continues 
Minister.  The  forty  thousand  assemble  next  day,  as  loud  as 
ever ;  roll  towards  Latour’s  Hotel ;  find  cannon  on  the  porch- 
steps  with  flambeau  lit ;  and  have  to  retire  elsewhither,  and 
digest  their  spleen,  or  reabsorb  it  into  the  blood. 

Over  in  Lorraine  meanwhile,  they  of  the  distributed  fusils, 
ringleaders  of  Mestre-de-Camp,  of  Roi,  have  got  marked  out 
for  judgment ;  —  yet  shall  never  get  judged.  Briefer  is  the 
doom  of  Chateau-Vieux.  Chateau-Vieux  is,  by  Swiss  law, 
given  up  for  instant  trial  in  Court-Martial  of  its  own  officers. 
Which  Court-Martial,  with  all  brevity  (in  not  many  hours),  has 
hanged  some  Twenty-three,  on  conspicuous  gibbets ;  marched 
some  Threescore  in  chains  to  the  Galleys  ;  and  so,  to  appear¬ 
ance,  finished  the  matter  off.  Hanged  men  do  cease  forever 
from  this  Earth ;  but  out  of  chains  and  the  Galleys  there  may 
be  resuscitation  in  triumph.  Resuscitation  for  the  chained 
Hero  ;  and  even  for  the  chained  Scoundrel  or  Semi-scoundrel ! 
Scottish  John  Knox,  such  World-Hero  as  we  know,  sat  once 
nevertheless  pulling  grim-taciturn  at  the  oar  of  French  Galley, 
“in  the  Water  of  Lore and  even  flung  their  Virgin-Mary 
over,  instead  of  kissing  her,  —  as  a  “ pented  breddf  or  timber 
Virgin,  wrho  could  naturally  swim.1  So,  ye  of  Chateau-Vieux, 
tug  patiently,  not  without  hope  ! 

But  indeed  at  Nanci  generally,  Aristocracy  rides  triumphant, 
rough.  Bouille  is  gone  again,  the  second  day  ;  an  Aristocrat 
Municipality,  with  free  course,  is  as  cruel  as  it  had  before 
been  cowardly.  The  Daughter  Society,  as  the  mother  of  the 
whole  mischief,  lies  ignominiously  suppressed ;  the  Prisons 
can  hold  no  more  ;  bereaved  down-beaten  Patriotism  murmurs, 
not  loud  but  deep.  Here  and  in  the  neighboring  Towns,  “  flat¬ 
tened  balls  ”  picked  from  the  streets  of  Nanci  are  worn  at 
buttonholes  :  balls  flattened  in  carrying  death  to  Patriotism  ; 
men  wear  them  there,  in  perpetual  memento  of  revenge. 
Mutineer  deserters  roam  the  woods  ;  have  to  demand  charity 
at  the  musket’s  end.  All  is  dissolution,  mutual  rancor,  gloom 
and  despair :  —  till  National  Assembly  Commissioners  arrive, 
with  a  steady  gentle  flame  of  Constitutionalism  in  their  hearts ; 

1  Knox’s  History  of  the  Reformation,  b.  i. 


374 


NANCI.  Book  IX. 

1790. 

who  gently  lift  up  the  down-trodden,  gentle  pull  down  the 
too  uplifted;  reinstate  the  Daughter  Society,  recall  the  muti¬ 
neer  deserter ;  gradually  levelling,  strive  in  all  wise  ways  to 
smooth  and  soothe.  With  such  gradual  mild  levelling  on  the 
one  side  ;  as  with  solemn  funeral-service,  Cassolettes,  Courts- 
Martial,  National  thanks,  on  the  other, — all  that  Officiality 
can  do  is  done.  The  buttonhole  will  drop  its  flat  ball ;  the 
black  ashes,  so  far  as  may  be,  get  green  again. 

This  is  the  “ Affair  of  Nanci;”  by  some  called  the  “Mas¬ 
sacre  of  Nanci;” —  properly  speaking,  the  unsightly  wrong 
side  of  that  tlirice-glorious  Feast  of  Pikes,  the  right  side  of 
which  formed  a  spectacle  for  the  very  gods.  Right  side  and 
wrong  lie  always  so  near:  the  one  was  in  July,  in  August 
the  other  !  Theatres,  the  theatres  over  in  London,  are  bright 
with  their  pasteboard  simulacrum  of  that  “Federation  of  the 
French  people,- ”  brought  out  as  Drama:  this  of  Nanci,  we 
may  say,  though  not  played  in  any  pasteboard  Theatre,  did 
for  many  months  enact  itself,  and  even  walk  spectrally,  in 
all  French  heads.  For  the  news  of  it  fly  pealing  through  all 
France  :  awakening,  in  town  and  village,  in  club-room,  mess- 
room,  to  the  utmost  borders,  some  mimic  reflex  or  imaginative 
repetition  of  the  business  ;  always  with  the  angry  questiona¬ 
ble  assertion :  It  was  right ;  It  was  wrong.  Whereby  come 
controversies,  duels ;  embitterment,  vain  jargon  ;  the  hastening 
forward,  the  augmenting  and  intensifying  of  whatever  new 
explosions  lie  in  store  for  us. 

Meanwhile,  at  this  cost  or  at  that,  the  mutiny,  as  we  say, 
is  stilled.  The  French  Army  has  neither  burst  up  in  univer¬ 
sal  simultaneous  delirium;  nor  been  at  once  disbanded,  put  an 
end  to,  and  made  new  again.  It  must  die  in  the  chronic  man¬ 
ner,  through  years,  by  inches  ;  with  partial  revolts,  as  of  Brest 
Sailors  or  the  like,  which  dare  not  spread ;  with  men  unhappy, 
insubordinate ;  officers  unhappier,  in  Royalist  mustachios, 
taking  horse,  singly  or  in  bodies,  across  the  Rhine : 1  sick  dis¬ 
satisfaction,  sick  disgust  on  both  sides ;  the  Army  moribund, 
fit  for  no  duty :  —  till  it  do,  in  that  unexpected  manner, 

1  See  Dampmartin,  i.  249,  &c.  &c. 


Chap.  VL  BOUILLE  AT  NANCI.  375 

September. 

plioenix-like,  with  long  throes,  get  both  dead  and  new-born; 
then  start  forth  strong,  nay  stronger  and  even  strongest. 

Thus  much  was  the  brave  Bouille  hitherto  fated  to  do. 
Wherewith  let  him  again  fade  into  dimness  ;  and,  at  Metz 
or  the  rural  Cantonments,  assiduously  drilling,  mysteriously 
diplomatizing,  in  scheme  within  scheme,  hover  as  formerly  a 
faint  shadow,  the  hope  of  Royalty. 


BOOK  X. 


THE  T  (TILERIES. 

- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  I. 

EPIMENIDES. 

How  true,  that  there  is  nothing  dead  in  this  Universe  ;  that 
what  we  call  dead  is  only  changed,  its  forces  working  in 
inverse  order !  “  The  leaf  that  lies  rotting  in  moist  winds,” 

says  one,  “  has  still  force  ;  else  how  could  it  rot  ?  ”  Our  whole 
Universe  is  but  an  infinite  Complex  of  Forces  ;  thousand-fold, 
from  Gravitation  up  to  Thought  and  Will;  man’s  Freedom 
environed  with  Necessity  of  Nature  :  in  all  which  nothing  at 
any  moment  slumbers,  but  all  is  forever  awake  and  busy. 
The  thing  that  lies  isolated  inactive  thou  shalt  nowhere  dis¬ 
cover;  seek  everywhere,  from  the  granite  mountain,  slow- 
mouldering  since  Creation,  to  the  passing  cloud-vapor,  to 
the  living  man ;  to  the  action,  to  the  spoken  word  of  man. 
The  w'ord  that  is  spoken,  as  we  know,  flies  irrevocable :  not 
less,  but  more,  the  action  that  is  done.  “  The  gods  them¬ 
selves,”  sings  Pindar,  u  cannot  annihilate  the  action  that  is 
done.”  No:  this,  once  done,  is  done  always;  cast  forth  into 
endless  Time ;  and,  long  conspicuous  or  soon  hidden,  must 
verily  work  and  grow  forever  there,  an  indestructible  new 
element  in  the  Infinite  of  Things.  Or,  indeed,  what  is  this 
Infinite  of  Things  itself,  which  men  name  Universe,  but  an 
Action,  a  sum-total  of  Actions  and  Activities  ?  The  living 
ready-made  sum-total  of  these  three,  —  which  Calculation  can¬ 
not  add,  cannot  bring  on  its  tablets ;  yet  the  sum,  we  say,  is 


Chap.  I.  EPIMENIDES.  377 

1790. 

written  visible :  All  that  has  been  done,  All  that  is  doing, 
All  that  will  be  done !  Understand  it  well,  the  Thing  thou 
beholdest,  that  Thing  is  an  Action,  the  product  and  expres¬ 
sion  of  exerted  Force :  the  All  of  Things  is  an  infinite  conju¬ 
gation  of  the  verb  To  do.  Shoreless  Fountain-Ocean  of  Force, 
of  power  to  do ;  wherein  Force  rolls  and  circles,  billowing, 
many-streamed,  harmonious ;  wide  as  Immensity,  deep  as 
Eternity ;  beautiful  and  terrible,  not  to  be  comprehended : 
this  is  what  man  names  Existence  and  Universe ;  this  thou¬ 
sand-tinted  Flame-image,  at  once  veil  and  revelation,  reflex 
such  as  he,  in  his  poor  brain  and  heart,  can  paint,  of  One 
Unnamable,  dwelling  in  inaccessible  light !  From  beyond 
the  Star-galaxies,  from  before  the  Beginning  of  Days,  it  bil¬ 
lows  and  rolls,  —  round  thee,  nay  thyself  art  of  it,  in  this 
point  of  Space  where  thou  now  standest,  in  this  moment 
which  thy  clock  measures. 

Or,  apart  from  all  Transcendentalism,  is  it  not  a  plain  truth 
of  sense,  which  the  duller  mind  can  even  consider  as  a  truism, 
that  human  things  wholly  are  in  continual  movement,  and 
action  and  reaction ;  working  continually  forward,  phasis 
after  phasis,  by  unalterable  laws,  towards  prescribed  issues  ? 
How  often  must  we  say,  and  yet  not  rightly  lay  to  heart : 
The  seed  that  is  sown,  it  will  spring !  Given  the  summer’s 
blossoming,  then  there  is  also  given  the  autumnal  withering : 
so  is  it  ordered  not  with  seedfields  only,  but  with  transac¬ 
tions,  arrangements,  philosophies,  societies,  French  Revolu¬ 
tions,  whatsoever  man  works  with  in  this  lower  world.  The 
Beginning  holds  in  it  the  End,  and  all  that  leads  thereto  j  as 
the  acorn  does  the  oak  and  its  fortunes.  Solemn  enough,  did 
we  think  of  it,  —  which  unhappily,  and  also  happily,  we  do 
not  very  much !  Thou  there  canst  begin ;  the  Beginning  is 
for  thee,  and  there  :  but  where,  and  of  what  sort,  and  for 
whom  will  the  End  be  ?  All  grows,  and  seeks  and  endures 
its  destinies  :  consider  likewise  how  much  grows,  as  the  trees 
do,  whether  we  think  of  it  or  not.  So  that  when  your  Epi- 
menides,  your  somnolent  Peter  Klaus,  since  named  Rip  van 
Winkle,  awakens  again,  he  finds  it  a  changed  world.  In  that 
seven-years’  sleep  of  his,  so  much  has  changed !  All  that  is 


378 


THE  TUILERIES. 


_  _  _  Book  X. 

1790. 

without  us  will  change  while  we  think  not  of  it ;  much  even 
that  is  within  us.  The  truth  that  was  yesterday  a  restless 
Problem,  has  to-day  grown  a  Belief  burning  to  be  uttered  : 
on  the  morrow,  contradiction  has  exasperated  it  into  mad 
Fanaticism ;  obstruction  has  dulled  into  sick  Inertness ;  it 
is  sinking  towards  silence,  of  satisfaction  or  of  resignation. 
To-day  is  not  Yesterday,  for  man  or  for  thing.  Yesterday 
there  was  the  oath  of  Love  ;  to-day  has  come  the  curse  of 
Hate.  Not  willingly  :  ah,  no ;  but  it  could  not  help  coming. 
The  golden  radiance  of  youth,  would  it  willingly  have  tar¬ 
nished  itself  into  the  dimness  of  old  age  ?  — -  Fearful :  how  we 
stand  enveloped,  deep-sunk,  in  that  Mystery  of  Time  ;  and  are 
Sons  of  Time  ;  fashioned  and  woven  out  of  Time  ;  and  on  us, 
and  on  all  that  we  have,  or  see,  or  do,  is  written :  Rest  not, 
Continue  not,  Forward  to  thy  doom ! 


But  in  seasons  of  Revolution,  which  indeed  distinguish 
themselves  from  common  seasons  by  their  velocity  mainly, 
your  miraculous  Seven-sleeper  might,  with  miracle  enough, 
awake  sooner:  not  by  the  century,  or  seven  years,  need  he 
sleep ;  often  not  by  the  seven  months.  Fancy,  for  example, 
some  new  Peter  Klaus,  sated  with  the  jubilee  of  that  Feder¬ 
ation  day,  had  lain  down,  say  directly  after  the  Blessing  of 
Talleyrand;  and,  reckoning  it  all  safe  now ,  had  fallen  com¬ 
posedly  asleep  under  the  timber-work  of  the  Fatherland’s 
Altar ;  to  sleep  there,  not  twenty-one  years,  but  as  it  were  year 
and  day.  The  cannonading  of  Nanci,  so  far  off,  does  not  dis¬ 
turb  him ;  nor  does  the  black  mortcloth,  close  at  hand,  nor  the ' 
requiems  chanted,  and  minute-guns,  incense-pans  and  concourse 
right  over  his  head :  none  of  these ;  but  Peter  sleeps  through 
them  all.  Through  one  circling  year,  as  we  say;  from  July 
the  14th  of  1790,  till  July  the  17th  of  1791 :  but  on  that  latter 
day,  no  Klaus,  nor  most  leaden  Epimenides,  only  the  Dead 
could  continue  sleeping :  and  so  our  miraculous  Peter  Klaus 
awakens.  With  what  eyes,  0  Peter  !  Earth  and  sky  have 
still  their  joyous  July  look,  and  the  Cliamp-de-Mars  is  multi¬ 
tudinous  with  men :  but  the  jubilee-huzzaing  has  become 
Bedlam-shrieking,  of  terror  and  revenge ;  not  blessing  of 


EPIMENIDES. 


379 


Chap.  I. 

1790. 

Talleyrand,  or  any  blessing,  but  cursing,  imprecation  and  shrill 
wail ;  our  cannon-salvos  are  turned  to  sharp  shot ;  for  swing¬ 
ing  of  incense-pans  and  Eighty-three  Departmental  Banners, 
we  have  waving  of  the  one  sanguineous  Drapeau  Rouge.  — 
Thou  foolish  Klaus !  The  one  lay  in  the  other,  the  one  was 
the  other  minus  Time ;  even  as  Hannibal’s  rock-rending  vinegar 
lay  in  the  sweet  new  wine.  That  sweet  Federation  was  of  last 
year ;  this  sour  Divulsion  is  the  self-same  substance,  only  older 
by  the  appointed  days. 

No  miraculous  Klaus  or  Epimenides  sleeps  in  these  times  ; 
and  yet,  may  not  many  a  man,  if  of  due  opacity  and  levity,  act 
the  same  miracle  in  a  natural  way ;  we  mean,  with  his  eyes 
open  ?  Eyes  has  he,  but  he  sees  not,  except  what  is  under 
his  nose.  With  a  sparkling  briskness  of  glance,  as  if  he  not 
only  saw  but  saw  through,  such  a  one  goes  whisking,  assiduous, 
in  his  circle  of  officialities ;  not  dreaming  but  that  it  is  the 
whole  world  :  as  indeed,  where  your  vision  terminates,  does 
not  inanity  begin  there ,  and  the  world’s  end  clearly  disclose 
itself  —  to  you  ?  Whereby  our  brisk-sparkling  assiduous  official 
person  (call  him,  for  instance,  Lafayette),  suddenly  startled, 
after  year  and  day,  by  huge  grape-shot  tumult,  stares  not  less 
astonished  at  it  than  Peter  Klaus  would  have  done.  Such 
natural  miracle  can  Lafayette  perforin;  and  indeed  .not  he 
only  but  most  other  officials,  non-officials,  and  generally  the 
whole  French  People  can  perform  it ;  and  do  bounce  up,  ever 
and  anon,  like  amazed  Seven-sleepers  awakening;  awakening 
amazed  at  the  noise  they  themselves  make.  So  strangely  is 
Freedom,  as  we  say,  environed  in  Necessity ;  such  a  singular 
Somnambulism,  of  Conscious  and  Unconscious,  of  Voluntary 
and  Involuntary,  is  this  life  of  man.  If  anywhere  in  the  world 
there  was  astonishment  that  the  Federation  Oath  went  into 
grape-shot,  surely  of  all  persons  the  French,  first  swearers  and 
then  shooters,  felt  astonished  the  most. 

Alas,  offences  must  come.  The  sublime  F6ast  of  Pikes  with 
its  effulgence  of  brotherly  love,  unknown  since  the  Age  of 
G-old,  has  changed  nothing.  That  prurient  heat  in  Twenty- 
five  Millions  of  hearts  is  not  cooled  thereby ;  but  is  still  hot, 
nay  hotter.  Lift  off  the  pressure  of  command  from  so  many 


380  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1790. 

millions ;  all  pressure  or  binding  rule,  except  such  melodra¬ 
matic  Federation  Oath  as  they  have  bound  themselves  with! 
For  Thou  shalt  was  from  of  old  the  condition  of  man’s  being, 
and  his  weal  and  blessedness  was  in  obeying  that.  Woe  for  him 
when,  were  it  on  the  hest  of  the  clearest  necessity,  rebellion, 
disloyal  isolation,  and  mere  I  willy  becomes  his  rule  !  But  the 
Gospel  of  Jean- Jacques  has  come,  and  the  first  Sacrament  of 
it  has  been  celebrated :  all  things,  as  we  say,  are  got  into  hot 
and  hotter  prurience  ;  and  must  go  on  pruriently  fermenting, 
in  continual  change  noted  or  unnoted. 

“Worn  out  with  disgusts,”  Captain  after  Captain,  in  Roy¬ 
alist  mustachios,  mounts  his  war-horse,  or  his  Rozinante  war- 
garron,  and  rides  minatory  across  the  Rhine ;  till  all  have 
ridden.  Neither  does  civic  Emigration  cease ;  Seigneur  after 
Seigneur  must,  in  like  manner,  ride  or  roll ;  impelled  to  it,  and 
even  compelled.  For  the  very  Peasants  despise  him,  in  that 
he  dare  not  join  his  order  and  fight.1  Can  he  bear  to  have  a 
Distaff,  a  Quenouille  sent  to  him :  say  in  copper-plate  shadow, 
by  post ;  or  fixed  up  in  wooden  reality  over  his  gate-lintel :  as 
if  he  were  no  Hercules,  but  an  Omphale  ?  Such  scutcheon 
they  forward  to  him  diligently  from  beyond  the  Rhine;  till 
he  too  bestir  himself  and  march,  and  in  sour  humor  another 
Lord  of  Land  is  gone,  not  taking  the  Land  with  him.  Nay, 
what  of  Captains  and  emigrating  Seigneurs  ?  There  is  not 
an  angry  word  on  any  of  those  Twenty-five  Million  .French 
tongues,  and  indeed  not  an  angry  thought  in  their  hearts,  but 
is  some  fraction  of  the  great  Battle.  Add  many  successions 
of  angry  words  together,  you  have  the  manual  brawl;  add 
brawls  together,  with  the  festering  sorrows  they  leave,  and 
they  rise  to  riots  and  revolts.  One  reverend  thing  after  an¬ 
other  ceases  to  meet  reverence  :  in  visible  material  combustion, 
chateau  after  chateau  mounts  up ;  in  spiritual  invisible  com¬ 
bustion,  one  authority  after  another.  With  noise  and  glare, 
or  noiselessly  and  unnoted,  a  whole  Old  System  of  things  is 
vanishing  piecemeal :  the  morrow  thou  shalt  look,  and  it  is 
not. 


1  Dampmartin,  passim. 


Chap.  II. 
1790-91. 


THE  WAKEFUL. 


381 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  WAKEFUL. 

Sleep  who  will,  cradled  in  hope  and  short  vision,  like  La¬ 
fayette,  who  u  always  in  the  danger  done  sees  the  last  danger 
that  will  threaten  him/’  —  Time  is  not  sleeping,  nor  Time’s 
seedfield. 

That  sacred  Herald’s-College  of  a  new  Dynasty ;  we  mean 
the  Sixty  and  odd  Billstickers  with  their  leaden  badges,  are 
not  sleeping.  Daily  they,  with  paste-pot  and  cross-staff,  new- 
clothe  the  walls  of  Paris  in  colors  of  the  rainbow :  authorita¬ 
tive-heraldic,  as  we  say,  or  indeed  almost  magical-thaumaturgic ; 
for  no  Placard- Journal  that  they  paste  but  will  convince  some 
soul  or  souls  of  men.  The  Hawkers  bawl ;  and  the  Ballad- 
singers  :  great  Journalism  blows  and  blusters,  through  all  its 
throats,  forth  from  Paris  towards  all  corners  of  France,  like  an 
.TColus  Cave  ;  keeping  alive  all  manner  of  fires. 

Throats  or  Journals  there  are,  as  men  count,1  to  the  number 
of  some  Hundred  and  thirty-three.  Of  various  calibre  ;  from 
your  Cheniers,  Gorsases,  Camilles,  down  to  your  Marat,  down 
now  to  your  incipient  Hebert  of  the  Pere  Duchesne  ;  these  blow, 
with  fierce  weight  of  argument  or  quick  light  banter,  for  the 
Rights  of  Man :  Durosoys,  Royous,  Peltiers,  Sulleaus,  equally 
with  mixed  tactics  (inclusive,  singular  to  say,  of  much  profane 
Parody),2  are  blowing  for  Altar  and  Throne.  As  for  Marat 
the  People’s-Friend,  his  voice  is  as  that  of  the  bullfrog,  or 
bittern  by  the  solitary  pools  ;  he,  unseen  of  men,  croaks  harsh 
thunder,  and  that  alone  continually,  —  of  indignation,  suspi- 
cion,  incurable  sorrow.  The  People  are  sinking  toward  ruin, 
near  starvation  itself  :  “  My  dear  friends,”  cries  he,  u  your  in¬ 
digence  is  not  the  fruit  of  vices  nor  of  idleness  ;  you  have  a 
right  to  life,  as  good  as  Louis  XVI.,  or  the  happiest  of  the 
1  Mercier,  iii.  163.  2  See  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  51. 


382  THE  TUILERIES.  BookX. 

1790-91. 

century.  What  man  can  say  he  has  a  right  to  dine,  when  you 
have  no  bread  ?  ”  1  The  People  sinking  on  the  one  hand :  on 
the  other  hand,  nothing  but  wretched  Sieur  Motiers,  treason¬ 
ous  Riquetti  Mirabeaus  :  traitors,  or  else  shadows  and  simu¬ 
lacra  of  Quacks  to  be  seen  in  high  places,  look  where  you  will ! 
Men  that  go  mincing,  grimacing,  with  plausible  speech  and 
brushed  raiment ;  hollow  within :  Quacks  political ;  Quacks 
scientific,  academical :  all  with  a  fellow-feeling  for  each  other, 
and  kind  of  Quack  public-spirit !  Not  great  Lavoisier  himself, 
or  any  of  the  Forty  can  escape  this  rough  tongue  ;  which  wants 
not  fanatic  sincerity,  nor,  strangest  of  $11,  a  certain  rough 
caustic  sense.  And  then  the  “  three  thousand  gaming-houses  ” 
that  are  in  Paris  ;  cesspools  for  the  scoundrelism  of  the  world ; 
sinks  of  iniquity  and  debauchery,  —  whereas  without  good 
morals  Liberty  is  impossible  !  There,  in  these  Dens  of  Satan, 
which  one  knows,  and  perseveringly  denounces,  do  Sieur 
Motier’s  mouchards  consort  and  colleague ;  battening  vampyre- 
like  on  a  People  next-door  to  starvation.  “  0  Peuple  !  ”  cries 
he  ofttimes,  with  heart-rending  accent.  Treason,  delusion, 
vampyrism,  scoundrelism,  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  !  The  soul 
of  Marat  is  sick  with  the  sight :  but  what  remedy  ?  To  erect 
“  Eight  Hundred  gibbets,”  in  convenient  rows,  and  proceed  to 
hoisting ;  “  Riquetti  on  the  first  of  them  !  ”  Such  is  the  brief 
recipe  of  Marat,  Friend  of  the  People. 

So  blow  and  bluster  the  Hundred  and  Thirty-three :  nor,  as 
would  seem,  are  these  sufficient  j  for  there  are  benighted  nooks 
in  France,  to  which  Newspapers  do  not  reach ;  and  every¬ 
where  is  “  such  an  appetite  for  news  as  was  never  seen  in  any 
country.”  Let  an  expeditious  Dampmartin,  on  furlough,  set 
out  to  return  home  from  Paris,2  he  cannot  get  along  for 
“  peasants  stopping  him  on  the  highway  ;  overwhelming  him 
with  questions :  ”  the  Maitre  de  Poste  will  not  send  out  the 
horses  till  you  have  well-nigh  quarrelled  with  him,  but  asks 
always,  What  news  ?  At  Autun,  in  spite  of  the  dark  night 
and  “rigorous  frost,”  for  it  is  now  January,  1791,  nothing  will 

1  Ami  da  Peuple,  No.  306.  See  other  Excerpts  in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  139-149, 
428-433  ;  ix.  85-93,  &c. 

2  Dampmartin,  i.  184. 


THE  WAKEFUL. 


383 


Chap.  II.*  _ 

1790-91. 

serve  but  you  must  gather  your  wayworn  limbs  and  thoughts, 
and  “  speak  to  the  multitudes  from  a  window  opening  into 
the  market-place.”  It  is  the  shortest  method :  This,  good 
Christian  people,  is  verily  what  an  august  Assembly  seemed  to 
me  to  be  doing  j  this  and  no  other  is  the  news  :  — 


Now  my  weary  lips  I  close  ; 

Leave  me,  leave  me  to  repose  ! 

The  good  Dampmartin  !  —  But,  on  the  whole,  are  not  Nations 
astonishingly  true  to  their  National  character  j  which  indeed 
runs  in  the  blood  ?  Nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  Julius  Caesar, 
with  his  quick  sure  eye,  took  note  how  the  Cauls  waylaid  men. 
“  It  is  a  habit  of  theirs,”  says  he,  “  to  stop  travellers,  were  it 
even  by  constraint,  and  inquire  whatsoever  each  of  them  may 
have  heard  or  known  about  any  sort  of  matter :  in  their  towns, 
the  common  people  beset  the  passing  trader ;  demanding  to 
hear  from  what  regions  he  came,  what  things  he  got  acquainted 
with  there.  Excited  by  which  rumors  and  hearsays,  they  will 
decide  about  the  weightiest  matters  ;  and  necessarily  repent 
next  moment  that  they  did  it,  on  such  guidance  of  uncertain 
reports,  and  many  a  traveller  answering  with  mere  fictions  to 
please  them,  and  get  off.”  1  Nineteen  hundred  years ;  and 
good  Dampmartin,  wayworn,  in  winter  frost,  probably  with 
scant  light  of  stars  and  fish-oil,  still  perorates  from  the  Inn- 
window  !  This  People  is  no  longer  called  Gaulish  ;  and  it  has 
wholly  become  braccatus,  has  got  breeches,  and  suffered  change 
enough  :  certain  fierce  German  Franken  came  storming  over  ; 
and,  so  to  speak,  vaulted  on  the  back  of  it ;  and  always  after, 
in  their  grim  tenacious  way,  have  ridden  it  bridled ;  for  Ger¬ 
man  is,  by  his  very  name,  Guerre-msm,  or  man  that  wars  and 
gars.  And  so  the  People,  as  we  say,  is  now  called  French  or 
Frankish :  nevertheless,  does  not  the  old  Gaulish  and  Gaelic 
Celthood,  with  its  vehemence,  effervescent  promptitude,  and 
what  good  and  ill  it  had,  still  vindicate  itself  little  adul¬ 
terated  ?  — 

For  the.  rest,  that  in  such  prurient  confusion,  Clubbism 
thrives  and  spreads,  need  not  be  said.  Already  the  Mother  of 

1  De  Bello  Galileo,  lib.  iv.  5. 


384  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1790-91. 

Patriotism, ^sitting  in  the  Jacobins,  shines  supreme  over  all ; 
and  has  paled  the  poor  lunar  light  of  that  Monarchic  Club  near 
to  final  extinction.  She,  we  say,  shines  supreme,  girt  with 
sunlight,  not  yet  with  infernal  lightning;  reverenced,  not 
without  fear,  by  Municipal  Authorities ;  counting  her  Bar- 
naves,  Lameths,  Petions,  of  a  National  Assembly  ;  most  gladly 
of  all,  her  Robespierre.  Cordeliers,  again,  your  Hebert,  Vin¬ 
cent,  Bibliopolist  Momoro,  groan  audibly  that  a  tyrannous 
Mayor  and  Sieur  Motier  harrow  them  with  the  sharp  tribula 
of  Law,  intent  apparently  to  suppress  them  by  tribulation. 
How  the  Jacobin  Mother  Society,  as  hinted  formerly,  sheds 
forth  Cordeliers  on  this  hand,  and  then  Peuillans  on  that ;  the 
Cordeliers  “an  elixir  or  double  distillation  of  Jacobin  Patriot¬ 
ism  ;  ”  the  other  a  wide-spread  weak  dilution  thereof :  how  she 
will  reabsorb  the  former  into  her  mother  bosom,  and  storm- 
fully  dissipate  the  latter  into  Nonentity  :  how  she  breeds  and 
brings  forth  Three  Hundred  Daughter  Societies ;  her  rearing 
of  them,  her  correspondence,  her  endeavorings  and  continual 
travail:  how,  under  an  old  figure,  Jacobinism  shoots  forth 
organic  filaments  to  the  utmost  corners  of  confused  dissolved 
Prance  ;  organizing  it  anew  :  —  this  properly  is  the  grand  fact 
of  the  Time. 

To  passionate  Constitutionalism,  still  more  to  Royalism, 
which  see  all  their  own  Clubs  fail  and  die,  Clubbism  will 
naturally  grow  to  seem  the  root  of  all  evil.  Nevertheless 
Clubbism  is  not  death,  but  rather  new  organization,  and  life 
out  of  death :  destructive,  indeed,  of  the  remnants  of  the 
Old;  but  to  the  New  important,  indispensable.  That  man 
can  co-operate  and  hold  communion  with  man,  herein  lies  his 
miraculous  strength.  In  hut  or  hamlet,  Patriotism  mourns 
not  now  like  voice  in  the  desert :  it  can  walk  to  the  nearest 
Town;  and  there,  in  the  Daughter  Society,  make  its  ejacula¬ 
tion  into  an  articulate  oration,  into  an  action,  guided  forward 
by  the  Mother  of  Patriotism  herself.  All  Clubs  of  Constitu¬ 
tionalists,  and  such  like,  fail,  one  after  another,  as  shallow 
fountains :  Jacobinism  alone  has  gone  down  to  the  deep  sub¬ 
terranean  lake  of  waters  ;  and  may,  unless  filled  in ,  flow  there, 
copious,  continual,  like  an  Artesian  well.  Till  the  Great 


Chap.  II.  THE  WAKEFUL.  385 

1791. 

Deep  have  drained  itself  up ;  and  all  be  flooded  and  sub¬ 
merged,  and  Noah’s  Deluge  out-deluged ! 

On  the  other  hand,  Claude  Fauchet,  preparing  mankind 
for  a  Golden  Age  now  apparently  just  at  hand,  has  opened 
his  Cercle  Social ,  with  clerks,  corresponding  boards,  and  so 
forth;  in  the  precincts  of  the  Palais  Eoyal.  It  is  Te-Deum 
Fauchet;  the  same  who  preached  on  Franklin’s  Death,  in 
that  huge  Medicean  rotunda  of  the  Halle-aux-bleds.  He  here, 
this  winter,  by  Printing-press  and  melodious  Colloquy,  spreads 
*bruit  of  himself  to  the  utmost  City-barriers.  “Ten  thousand 
persons  of  respectability”  attend  there;  and  listen  to  this 
“  Procureur  General  de  la  Verite ,  Attorney-General  of  Truth,” 
so  has  he  dubbed  himself ;  to  his  sage  Condorcet,  or  other  elo¬ 
quent  coadjutor.  Eloquent  Attorney-General !  He  blows  out 
from  him,  better  or  worse,  what  crude  or  ripe  thing  he  holds : 
not  without  result  to  himself ;  for  it  leads  to  a  Bishopric, 
though  only  a  Constitutional  one.  Fauchet  approves  himself 
a  glib-tongued,  strong-lunged,  whole-hearted  human  individual : 
much  flowing  matter  there  is,  and  really  of  the  better  sort, 
about  Right,  Nature,  Benevolence,  Progress ;  which  flowing 
matter,  whether  “it  is  pantheistic,”  or  is  pot-theistic,  only 
the  greener  mind,  in  these  days,  need  examine.  Busy  Brissot 
was  long  ago  of  purpose  to  establish  precisely  some  such 
regenerative  Social  Circle:  nay  he  had  tried  it  in  “Newman- 
street  Oxford-street,”  of  the  Fog  Babylon ;  and  failed,  —  as 
some  say,  surreptitiously  pocketing  the  cash.  Fauchet,  not 
Brissot,  was  fated  to  be  the  happy  man;  whereat,  however, 
generous  Brissot  will  with  sincere  heart  sing  a  timber-toned 
Nunc  Domine.1  But  “ten  thousand  persons  of  respecta¬ 
bility  ;  ”  what  a  bulk  have  many  things  in  proportion  to  their 
magnitude  !  This  Cercle  Social,  for  which  Brissot  chants  in 
sincere  timber-tones  such  Nunc  Domine,  what  is  it?  Unfor¬ 
tunately  wind  and  shadow.  The  main  reality  one  finds  in  it 
now,  is  perhaps  this:  that  an  “Attorney-General  of  Truth” 
did  once  take  shape  of  a  body,  as  Son  of  Adam,  on  our  Earth, 
though  but  for  months  or  moments ;  and  ten  thousand  persons 

1  See  Brissot,  Patriote-Fran^ais  Newspaper;  Fauchet,  Bouche-de-Fer ,  &c. 
(excerpted  in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  ix.  et  seqq.) 
vol.  hi.  25 


386  THE  TUILERIES.  BookX. 

1791. 

of  respectability  attended,  ere  yet  Chaos  and  Nox  had  re¬ 
absorbed  him. 

Hundred  and  Thirty-three  Paris  Journals ;  regenerative 
Social  Circle ;  oratory,  in  Mother  and  Daughter  Societies, 
from  the  balconies  of  Inns,  by  chimney-nook,  at  dinner- 
table,  —  polemical,  ending  many  times  in  duel !  And  ever, 
like  a  constant  growling  accompaniment  of  bass  Discord  : 
scarcity  of  work,  scarcity  of  food.  The  winter  is  hard  and 
cold ;  ragged  Bakers’-queues,  like  a  black  tattered  flag-of- 
distress,  wave  out  ever  and  anon.  It  is  the  third  of  our* 
Hunger-years,  this  new  year  of  a  glorious  Revolution.  The 
rich  man  when  invited  to  dinner,  in  such  distress-seasons, 
feels  bound  in  politeness  to  carry  his  own  bread  in  his  pocket : 
how  the  poor  dine  ?  And  your  glorious  Revolution  has  done 
it,  cries  one.  And  our  glorious  Revolution  is  subtilely,  by 
black  traitors  worthy  of  the  Lamp-iron,  perverted  to  do  it,  cries 
another.  Who  will  paint  the  huge  whirlpool  wherein  France, 
all  shivered  into  wild  incoherence,  whirls  ?  The  jarring  that 
went  on  under  every  French  roof,  in  every  French  heart ; 
the  diseased  things  that  were  spoken,  done,  the  sum-total 
whereof  is  the  French  Revolution,  tongue  of  man  cannot  tell. 
Nor  the  laws  of  action  that  work  unseen  in  the  depths  of  that 
huge  blind  Incoherence  !  With  amazement,  not  with  mea¬ 
surement,  men  look  on  the  Immeasurable  ;  not  knowing  its 
laws  ;  seeing ,  with  all  different  degrees  of  knowledge,  what 
new  phases,  and  results  of  event,  its  laws  bring  forth.  France 
is  as  a  monstrous  Galvanic  Mass,  wherein  all  sorts  of  far 
stranger  than  chemical  galvanic  or  electric  forces  and  sub¬ 
stances  are  at  work;  electrifying  one  another,  positive  and 
negative;  filling  with  electricity  your  Leyden-jars, — Twenty- 
five  Millions  in  number  1  As  the  jars  get  full,  there  will,  from 
time  to  time,  be,  on  slight  hint,  an  explosion. 


Chap.  III. 
1790. 


SWORD  IN  HAND. 


38T 


CHAPTER  III. 

SWORD  IN  HAND. 

On  such  wonderful  basis,  however,  has  Law,  Royalty,  Au¬ 
thority,  and  whatever  yet  exists  of  visible  Order,  to  maintain 
itself,  while  it  can.  Here,  as  in  that  Commixture  of  the 
Four  Elements  did  the  Anarch  Old,  has  an  august  Assembly 
spread  its  pavilion;  curtained  by  the  dark  infinite  of  dis¬ 
cords  ;  founded  on  the  wavering  bottomless  of  the  Abyss  ; 
and  keeps  continual  hubbub.  Time  is  around  it,  and  Eter¬ 
nity,  and  the  Inane ;  and  it  does  what  it  can,  what  is  given 
it  to  do. 

Glancing  reluctantly  in,  once  more,  we  discern  little  that 
is  edifying :  a  Constitutional  Theory  of  Defective  Verbs  strug¬ 
gling  forward,  with  perseverance,  amid  endless  interruptions  : 
Mirabeau,  from  his  tribune,  with  the  weight  of  his  name  and 
genius,  awing  down  much  Jacobin  violence  ;  which  in  return 
vents  itself  the  louder  over  in  its  Jacobins  Hall,  and  even 
reads  him  sharp  lectures  there.1  This  man’s  path  is  myste¬ 
rious,  questionable ;  difficult,  and  he  walks  without  companion 
in  it.  Pure  Patriotism  does  not  now  count  him  among  her 
chosen ;  pure  Royalism  abhors  him  :  yet  his  weight  with  the 
world  is  overwhelming.  Let  him  travel  on,  companionless, 
unwavering,  whither  he  is  bound,  —  while  it  is  yet  day  with 
him,  and  the  night  has  not  come. 

But  the  chosen  band  of  pure  Patriot  brothers  is  small ; 
counting"  only  some.  Thirty,  seated  now  on  the  extreme  tip 
of  the  left,  separate  from  the  world.  A  virtuous  Petion ; 
an  incorruptible  Robespierre,  most  consistent,  incorruptible 
of  thin  acrid  men ;  Triumvirs  Barnave,  Duport,  Lameth,  great 
in  speech,  thought,  action,  each  according  to  his  kind ;  a  lean 

1  Camille’s  Journal  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  366-385). 


S88  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1790. 

old  Goupil  de  Prefeln :  on  these  and  what  will  follow  them 
has  pure  Patriotism  to  depend. 

There,  too,  conspicuous  among  the  Thirty,  if  seldom  au¬ 
dible,  Philippe.  d’Orleans  may  be  seen  sitting:  in  dim  fuligi¬ 
nous  bewilderment;  having,  one  might  say,  arrived  at  Chaos! 
Gleams  there  are,  at  once  of  a  Lieutenancy  and  Regency; 
debates  in  the  Assembly  itself,  of  succession  to  the  Throne 
“  in  case  the  present  Branch  should  fail ;  ”  and  Philippe,  they 
say,  walked  anxiously,  in  silence,  through  the  corridors,  till 
such  high  argument  were  done:  but  it  came  all  to  nothing; 
Mirabeau,  glaring  into  the  man,  and  through  him,  had  to 
ejaculate  in  strong  untranslatable  language :  “  Ce  j —  / —  ne 
vaut  pas  la  peine  qidon  se  donne  pour  lui.”  .  It  came  all  to 
nothing ;  and  in  the  mean  while  Philippe’s  money,  they  say, 
is  gone !  Could  he  refuse  a  little  cash  to  the  gifted  Patriot, 
in  want  only  of  that ;  he  himself  in  want  of  all  but  that  ? 
Not  a  pamphlet  can  be  printed  without  cash  ;  or  indeed  writ¬ 
ten  without  food  purchasable  by  cash.  Without  cash  your 
hopefulest  Projector  cannot  stir  from  the  spot;  individual 
patriotic  or  other  Projects  require  cash :  how  much  more  do 
wide-spread  Intrigues,  which  live  and  exist  by  cash;  lying 
wide-spread,  with  dragon-appetite  for  cash ;  fit  to  swallow 
Princedoms !  And  so  Prince  Philippe,  amid  his  Sillerys, 
Lacloses  and  confused  Sons  of  Night,  has  rolled  along:  the 
centre  of  the  strangest  cloudy  coil ;  out  of  which  has  visibly 
come,  as  we  often  say,  an  Epic  Preternatural  Machinery  of 
Suspicion  ;  and  within  which  there  has  dwelt  and  worked,  — 
what  specialities  of  treason,  stratagem,  aimed  or  aimless  en¬ 
deavor  towards  mischief,  no  party  living  (if  it  be  not  the 
presiding  Genius  of  it,  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  Air)  has 
now  any  chance  to  know.  Camille’s  conjecture  is  the  likeliest: 
that  poor  Philippe  did  mount  up,  a  little  way,  in  trgasonable 
speculation,  as  he  mounted  formerly  in  one  of  the  earliest 
Balloons ;  but,  frightened  at  the  new  position  he  was  getting 
into,  had  soon  turned  the  cock  again,  and  come  down.  More 
fool  than  he  rose !  To  create  Preternatural  Suspicion,  this 
was  his  function  in  the  Revolutionary  Epos.  But  now  if  he 
have  lost  his  cornucopia  of  ready  money,  what  else  had  he  to 


389 


Chap.  III.  SWORD  IN  HAND. 

August. 

lose  ?  In  thick  darkness,  inward  and  outward,  he  must  welter 
and  flounder  on,  in  that  piteous  death-element,  the  hapless 
man.  Once,  or  even  twice,  we  shall  still  behold  him  emerged ; 
struggling  out  of  the  thick  death-element :  in  vain.  For  one 
moment,  it  is  the  last  moment,  he  starts  aloft,  or  is  flung  aloft, 
even  into  clearness  and  a  kind  of  memorability,  —  to  sink  then 
forevermore  ! 

The  Cote  Droit  persists  no  less ;  nay  with  more  animation 
than  ever,  though  hope  has  now  well-nigh  fled.  Tough  Abbe 
Maury,  when  the  obscure  country  Royalist  grasps  his  hand 
with  transport  of  thanks,  answers,  rolling  his  indomitable 
brazen  head:  “ Helas,  Monsieur ,  all  that  I  do  here  is  as  good 
as  simply  nothing Gallant  Faussigny,  visible  this  one  time 
in  History,  advances  frantic  into  the  middle  of  the  Hall, 
exclaiming:  “There  is  but  one  way  of  dealing  with  it,  and 
that  is  to  fall  sword  in  hand  on  those  gentry  there,  sabre  a  la 
main  sur  ces  gaillards  la,”  1  frantically  indicating  our  chosen 
Thirty  on  the  extreme  tip  of  the  Left !  Whereupon  is  clangor 
and  clamor,  debate,  repentance,  —  evaporation.  Things  ripen 
towards  downright  incompatibility,  and  what  is  called  “  scis¬ 
sion  :”  that  fierce  theoretic  onslaught  of  Faussigny’s  was  in 
August,  1790;  next  August  will  not  have  come,  fill  a  famed 
Two  Hundred  and  Ninety-two,  the  chosen  of  Royalism,  make 
solemn  final  “  scission  ”  from  an  Assembly  given  up  to  faction ; 
and  depart,  shaking  the  dust  off  their  feet. 

Connected  with  this  matter  of  sword  in  hand,  there  is  yet 
another  thing  to  be  noted.  Of  duels  we  have  sometimes 
spoken:  how,  in  all  parts  of  France,  innumerable  duels  were 
fought;  and  argumentative  men  and  messmates,  flinging  down 
the  wine-cup  and  weapons  of  reason  and  repartee,  met  in  the 
measured  field ;  to  part  bleeding ;  or  perhaps  not  to  part,  but 
to  fall  mutually  skewered  through  with  iron,  their  wrath  and 
life  alike  ending,  —  and  die  as  fools  die.  Long  has  this  lasted, 
and  still  lasts.  But  now  it  would  seem  as  if  in  an  august 
Assembly  itself,  traitorous  Royalism,  in  its  despair,  had  taken 
to  a  new  course  :  that  of  cutting  off  Patriotism  by  systematic 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  21  Aotit,  1790. 


890  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1790. 

duel !  Bully  swordsmen,  “  Spadassins  ”  of  that  party,  go 
swaggering ;  or  indeed  they  can  be  had  for  a  trifle  of  money. 
“Twelve  Spadassins”  were  seen,  by  the  yellow  eye  of  Jour¬ 
nalism,  “  arriving  recently  out  of  Switzerland ;  ”  also  “  a  con¬ 
siderable  number  of  Assassins,  nomnbre  considerable  d' assas¬ 
sins, ,  exercising  in  fencing-schools  and  at  pistol-targets.”  Any 
Patriot  Deputy  of  mark  can  be  called  out;  let  him  escape 
one  time,  or  ten  times,  a  time  there  necessarily  is  when  he 
must  fall,  and  France  mourn.  How  many  cartels  has  Mira- 
beau  had;  especially  while  he  was  the  People’s  champion! 
Cartels  by  the  hundred :  which  he,  since  the  Constitution 
must  be  made  first,  and  his  time  is  precious,  answers  now 
always  with  a  kind  of  stereotype  formula:  “Monsieur,  you 
are  put  upon  my  List ;  but  I  warn  you  that  it  is  long,  and  I 
grant  no  preferences.” 

Then,  in  Autumn,  had  we  not  the  Duel  of  Cazales  and 
Barnave  ;  the  two  chief  masters  of  tongue-shot  meeting  now 
to  exchange  pistol-shot  ?  For  Cazales,  chief  of  the  Loyalists, 
whom  we  call  “  Blacks  or  Woirs,”  said,  in  a  moment  of  passion, 
“the  Patriots  were  sheer  Brigands,”  nay  in  so  speaking,  he 
darted,  or  seemed  to  dart,  a  fire-glance  specially  at  Barnave ; 
who  thereupon  could  not  but  reply  by  fire-glances,  —  by 
adjournment  to  the  Bois-de-Boulogne.  Barnave’s  second  shot 
took  effect :  on  Cazales’  hat.  The  “  front  nook  ”  of  a  triangular 
Felt,  such  as  mortals  then  wore,  deadened  the  ball ;  and  saved 
that  fine  brow  from  more  than  temporary  injury.  But  how 
easily  might  the  lot  have  fallen  the  other  way,  and  Barnave’s 
hat  not  been  so  good !  Patriotism  raises  its  loud  denunciation 
of  Duelling  in  general ;  petitions  an  august  Assemby  to  stop 
such  Feudal  Barbarism  by  law.  Barbarism  and  solecism :  for 
will  it  convince  or  convict  any  man  to  blow  half  an  ounce  of 
lead  through  the  head  of  him  ?  Surely  not.  —  Barnave  was 
received  at  the  Jacobins  with  embraces,  yet  with  rebukes. 

Mindful  of  which,  and  also  that  his  reputation  in  America 
was  that  of  headlong  foolhardiness  rather,  and  want  of  brain 
not  of  heart,  Charles  Lameth  does,  on  the  eleventh  day  of 
November,  with  little  emotion,  decline  attending  some  hot 


Chap.  III.  SWORD  IN  HAND.  391 

Nov.  11-13. 

young  Gentleman  from  Artois,  come  expressly  to  challenge 
him :  nay  indeed  he  first  coldly  engages  to  attend  j  then  coldly 
permits  two  Friends  to  attend  instead  of  him,  and  shame  the 
young  Gentleman  out  of  it,  which  they  successfully  do.  A 
cold  procedure ;  satisfactory  to  the  two  Friends,  to  Lameth 
and  the  hot  young  Gentleman ;  whereby,  one  might  have 
fancied,  the  whole  matter  was  cooled  down. 

Not  so,  however :  Lameth,  proceeding  to  his  senatorial 
duties,  in  the  decline  of  the  day,  is  met  in  those  Assembly 
corridors  by  nothing  but  Royalist  brocards ;  sniffs,  huffs  and 
open  insults.  Human  patience  has  its  limits :  “  Monsieur,” 
said  Lameth,  breaking  silence  to  one  Lautrec,  a  man  with 
hunchback,  or  natural  deformity,  but  sharp  of  tongue,  and  a 
Black  of  the  deepest  tint,  “  Monsieur,  if  you  were  a  man  to  be 
fought  with!”  —  “I  am  one,”  cries  the  young  Duke  de  Cas¬ 
tries.  Fast  as  fire-flash  Lameth  replies,  u  Tout  a  I’heure,  On 
the  instant,  then !  ”  And  so,  as  the  shades  of  dusk  thicken, 
in  that  Bois-de-Boulogne,  we  behold  two  men  with  lion  look, . 
with  alert  attitude,  side  foremost,  right  foot  advanced,  flourish¬ 
ing  and  thrusting,  stoccado  and  passado,  in  tierce  and  quart ; 
intent  to  skewer  one  another.  See,  with  most  skewering  pur¬ 
pose,  headlong  Lameth,  with  his  whole  weight,  makes  a  furious 
lunge ;  but  deft  Castries  whisks  aside :  Lameth  skewers  only 
the  air,  —  and  slits  deep  and  far,  on  Castries’  sword’ s-point, 
his  own  extended  left  arm  !  Whereupon,  with  bleeding,  pallor,, 
surgeon’s-lint  and  formalities,  the  Duel  is  considered  satisfac¬ 
torily  done. 

But  will  there  be  no  end,  then  ?  Beloved  Lameth  lies 
deep-slit,  not  out  of  danger.  Black  traitorous  Aristocrats 
kill  the  People’s  defenders,  cut  up  not  with  arguments,  but 
with  rapier-slits.  And  the  Twelve  Spadassins  out  of  Switzer¬ 
land,  and  the  considerable  number  of  Assassins  exercising  at 
the  pistol-target  ?  So  meditates  and  ejaculates  hurt  Patriot¬ 
ism,  with  ever-deepening,  ever-widening  fervor,  for  the  space 
of  six-and-thirty  hours. 

The  thirty-six  hours  past,  on  Saturday  the  13th,  one  beholds 
a  new  spectacle:  The  Rue  de  Varennes,  and  neighboring 
Boulevard  des  Invalides,  covered  with  a  mixed  flowing  multi- 


392  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1790. 

tude :  the  Castries  Hotel  gone  distracted,  devil-ridden,  belch¬ 
ing  from  .  every  window,  “  beds  with  clothes  and  curtains/’ 
plate  of  silver  and  gold  with  filigree,  mirrors,  pictures,  images, 
commodes,  chiffoniers,  and  endless  crockery  and  jingle :  amid 
steady  popular  cheers,  absolutely  without  theft:  for  there 
goes  a  cry,  “  He  shall  be  hanged  that  steals  a  nail.”  It  is  a 
Plebiscitum,  or  informal  iconoclastic  Decree  of  the  Common 
People,  in  the  course  of  being  executed  !  —  The  Municipality 
sit  tremulous ;  deliberating  whether  they  will  hang  out  the 
Drapeau  Rouge  and  Martial  Law :  National  Assembly,  part 
in  loud  wail,  part  in  hardly  suppressed  applause ;  Abbe  Maury 
unable  to  decide  whether  the  iconoclastic  Plebs  amount  to 
forty  thousand  or  to  two  hundred  thousand. 

Deputations,  swift  messengers,  —  for  it  is  at  a  distance  over 
the  River, — come  and  go.  Lafayette  and  National  Guards, 
though  without  Drapeau  Rouge ,  get  under  way ;  apparently 
in  no  hot  haste.  Nay,  arrived  on  the  scene,  Lafayette  salutes 
with  doffed  hat,  before  ordering  to  fix  bayonets.  What  avails 
it  ?  The  Plebeian  “  Court  of  Cassation  ,”  as  Camille  might 
punningly  name  it,  has  done  its  work ;  steps  forth,  with 
unbuttoned  vest,  with  pockets  turned  inside  out :  sack,  and 
just  ravage,  not  plunder !  With  inexhaustible  patience,  the 
Hero  of  two  Worlds  remonstrates ;  persuasively,  with  a  kind 
of  sweet  constraint,  though  also  with  fixed  bayonets,  dissi¬ 
pates,  hushes  down :  on  the  morrow  it  is  once  more  all  as 
usual. 

Considering  which  things,  however,  Duke  Castries  may 
justly  “  write  to  the  President,”  justly  transport  himself  across 
the  Marches ;  to  raise  a  corps,  or  do  what  else  is  in  him. 
Royalism  totally  abandons  that  Bobadilian  method  of  con¬ 
test,  and  the  Twelve  Spadassins  return  to  Switzerland  —  or 
even  to  Dreamland  through  the  Horn-gate,  whichsoever  their 
true  home  is.  Nay  Editor  Prudhomme  is  authorized  to  pub¬ 
lish  a  curious  thing:  “We  are  authorized  to  publish,”  says  he, 
dull-blustering  Publisher,  “that  M.  Boyer  champion  of  good 
Patriots  is  at  the  head  of  Fifty  Spadassinicides  or  -killers. 
His  Address  is :  Passage  du  Bois-de-Boulogne,  Faubourg  St. 


LAFAYETTE 


Chap.  IV.  TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY.  393 

1791. 

Denis.”  1  One  of  the  strangest  Institutes,  this  of  Champion 
Boyer  and  the  Bully-killers !  Whose  services,  however,  are 
not  wanted;  Royalism  having  abandoned  the  rapier  method, 
as  plainly  impracticable. 


—  — •» - 

CHAPTER  IY. 

TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY. 

The  truth  is,  Royalism  sees  itself  verging  towards  sad  ex¬ 
tremities  ;  nearer  and  nearer  daily.  From  over  the  Rhine  it 
comes  asserted  that  the  King  in  his  Tuileries  is  not  free:, 
this  the  poor  King  may  contradict,  with  the  official  mouth, 
but  in  his  heart  feels  often  to  be  undeniable.  Civil  Consti¬ 
tution  of  the  Clergy;  Decree  of  ejectment  against  Dissidents 
from  it :  not  even  to  this  latter,  though  almost  his  conscience 
rebels,  can  he  say  Nay;  but,  after  two  months’  hesitating, 
signs  this  also.  It  was  “on  January  21st,”  of  this  1791,  that 
he  signed  it ;  to  the  sorrow  of  his  poor  heart  yet,  on  another 
Twenty-first  of  January  !  Whereby  come  Dissident  ejected 
Priests ;  unconquerable  Martyrs  according  to  some,  incurable 
chicaning  Traitors  according  to  others.  And  so  there  has 
arrived  what  we  once  foreshadowed :  with  Religion,  or  with 
the  Cant  and  Echo  of  Religion,  all  France  is  rent  asunder  in 
a  new  rupture  of  continuity ;  complicating,  embittering  all  the 
older ;  —  to  be  cured  only  by  stern  surgery,  in  La  Vendee  ! 

Unhappy  Royalty,  unhappy  Majesty,  Hereditary  Represen¬ 
tative,  Representant  Hereditaire ,  or  howsoever  they  may  name 
him ;  of  whom  much  is  expected,  to  whom  little  is  given ! 
Blue  National  Guards  encircle  that  Tuileries ;  a  Lafayette, 
thin  constitutional  Pedant;  clear,  thin,  inflexible,  as  water 
turned  to  thin  ice ;  whom  no  Queen’s  heart  can  love.  National 
Assembly,  its  pavilion  spread  where  we  know,  sits  near  by, 
keeping  continual  hubbub.  From  without,  nothing  but  Nanci 

\ Revolutions  de  Paris  (in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  440). 


394  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

Revolts,  sack  of  Castries  Hotels,  riots  and  seditions;  riots 
North  and  South,  at  Aix,  at  Douai,  at  Befort,  IJsez,  Perpignan, 
at  Nismes,  and  that  incurable  Avignon  of  the  Pope’s ;  a  con¬ 
tinual  crackling  and  sputtering  of  riots  from  the  whole  face 
of  France ;  —  testifying  how  electric  it  grows.  Add  only  the 
hard  winter,  the  famished  strikes  of  operatives ;  that  continual 
running-bass  of  Scarcity,  ground-tone  and  basis  of  all  other 
Discords ! 

The  plan  of  Royalty,  so  far  as  it  can  be  said  to  have  any 
fixed  plan,  is  still,  as  ever,  that  of  flying  towards  the  frontiers. 
In  very  truth,  the  only  plan  of  the  smallest  promise  for  it ! 
Fly  to  Bouille;  bristle  yourself  round  with  cannon,  served 
by  your  “  forty  thousand  undebauched  Germans :  ”  summon 
the  National  Assembly  to  follow  you,  summon  what  of  it  is 
Royalist,  Constitutional,  gainable  by  money ;  dissolve  the 
rest,  by  grape-shot  if  need  be.  Let  Jacobinism  and  Revolt, 
with  one  wild  wail,  fly  into  Infinite  Space ;  driven  by  grape- 
shot.  Thunder  over  France  with  the  cannon’s  mouth;  com¬ 
manding,  not  entreating,  that  this  riot  cease.  And  then  to 
rule  afterwards  with  utmost  possible  Constitutionality ;  doing 
justice,  loving  mercy ;  being  Shepherd  of  this  indigent  People, 
not  shearer  merely,  and  Shepherd’ s-similitude  !  All  this,  if 
ye  dare.  If  ye  dare  not,  then,  in  Heaven’s  name,  go  to  sleep : 
other  handsome  alternative  seems  none. 

Nay,  it  were  perhaps  possible ;  with  a  man  to  do  it.  For  if 
such  inexpressible  whirlpool  of  Babylonish  confusions  (which 
our  Era  is)  cannot  be  stilled  by  man,  but  only  by  Time  and 
men,  a  man  may  moderate  its  paroxysms,  may  balance  and 
sway,  and  keep  himself  unswallowed  on  the  top  of  it,  —  as 
several  men  and  Kings  in  these  days  do.  Much  is  possible 
for  a  man ;  men  will  obey  a  man  that  kens  and  cans,  and  name 
him  reverently  their  Ken-ning  or  King.  Did  not  Charlemagne 
rule  ?  Consider,  too,  whether  he  had  smooth  times  of  it ; 
hanging  “four  thousand  Saxons  over  the  Weser-Bridge,”  at 
one  dread  swoop  !  So  likewise,  who  knows  but,  in  this  same 
distracted  fanatic  France,  the  right  man  may  verily  exist  ? 
An  olive-complexioned  taciturn  man ;  for  the  present,  Lieu- 


Chap.  IT.  TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY.  395 

1791. 

tenant  in  the  Artillery-service,  who  once  sat  studying  Mathe¬ 
matics  at  Brienne  ?  The  same  who  walked  in  the  morning 
to  correct  proof-sheets  at  Dole,  and  enjoyed  a  frugal  breakfast 
with  M.  Joly  ?  Such  a  one  is  gone,  whither  also  famed 
General  Paoli  his  friend  is  gone,  in  these  very  days,  to  see 
old  scenes  in  native  Corsica,  and  what  Democratic  good  can 
be  done  there. 

Royalty  never  executes  the  evasion  plan,  yet  never  aban¬ 
dons  it ;  living  in  variable  hope ;  undecisive,  till  fortune  shall 
decide.  In  utmost  secrecy,  a  brisk  Correspondence  goes  on 
with  Bouille ;  there  is  also  a  plot,  which  emerges  more  than 
once,  for  carrying  the  King  to  Rouen : 1  plot  after  plot  emerg¬ 
ing  and  submerging,  like  ignes  fatui  in  foul  weather,  which 
lead  no-whither.  “  About  ten  o’clock  at  night,”  the  Heredi¬ 
tary  Representative,  in  partie  quarree,  with  the  Queen,  with 
Brother  Monsieur,  and  Madame,  sits  playing  “  wisk ,”  or  whist. 
IJsher  Campan  enters  mysteriously,  with  a  message  he  only 
half  comprehends :  How  a  certain  Comte  D’Inisdal  waits 
anxious  in  the  outer  antechamber :  National  Colonel,  Captain 
of  the  watch  for  this  night,  is  gained  over ;  post-horses  ready 
all  the  way ;  party  of  Noblesse  sitting  armed,  determined ; 
will  his  Majesty,  before  midnight,  consent  to  go  ?  Profound 
silence ;  Campan  waiting  with  upturned  ear.  “  Did  your 
Majesty  hear  what  Campan  said?”  asks  the  Queen.  “Yes, 
I  heard,”  answers  Majesty,  and  plays  on.  “’Twasa  pretty 
couplet,  that  of  Campan’s,”  hints  Monsieur,  who  at  times 
showed  a  pleasant  wit :  Majesty,  still  unresponsive,  plays 
wisk.  “  After  all,  one  must  say  something  to  Campan,” 
remarks  the  Queen.  “  Tell  M.  D’Inisdal,”  said  the  King,  and 
the  Queen  puts  an  emphasis  on  it,  “that  the  King  cannot 
consent  to  be  forced  away.”  —  “I  see  ! ”  said  D’Inisdal,  whisk¬ 
ing  round,  peaking  himself  into  flame  of  irritancy:  “we  have 
the  risk;  we  are  to  have  all  the  blame  if  it  fail,” 2  —  and 
vanishes,  he  and  his  plot,  as  will-o’-wisps  do.  The  Queen 
sat  till  far  in  the  night,  packing  jewels :  but  it  came  to  noth- 

1  See  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  316  ;  Bertrand-Moleville,  &c. 

2  Campan,  ii.  105. 


396  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

ing;  in  that  peaked  flame  of  irritancy  the  will-o’-wisp  had 
gone  out. 

Little  hope  there  is  in  all  this.  Alas,  with  whom  to  fly  ? 
Our  loyal  Gardes-du-Corjps,  ever  since  the  Insurrection  of 
Women,  are  disbanded;  gone  to  their  homes;  gone,  many  of 
them,  across  the  Rhine  towards  Coblentz  and  Exiled  Princes : 
brave  Miomandre  and  brave  Tardivet,  these  faithful  Two,  have 
received,  in  nocturnal  interview  with  both  Majesties,  their 
viaticum  of  gold  louis,  of  heartfelt  thanks  from  a  Queen’s  lips, 
though  unluckily  “his  Majesty  stood,  back  to  fire,  not  speak¬ 
ing  ;  ”  1  and  do  now  dine  through  the  Provinces ;  recounting 
hair’s-breadth  escapes,  insurrectionary  horrors.  Great  horrors, 
to  be  swallowed  yet  of  greater.  But,  on  the  whole,  what  a 
falling  off  from  the  old  splendor  of  Versailles  !  Here  in  this 
poor  Tuileries  a  National  Brewer-Colonel,  sonorous  Santerre, 
parades  officially  behind  her  Majesty’s  chair.  Our  high  digni¬ 
taries  all  fled  over  the  Rhine  :  nothing  now  to  be  gained  at 
Court ;  but  hopes,  for  which  life  itself  must  be  risked !  Ob¬ 
scure  busy  men  frequent  the  back  stairs  ;  with  hearsays,  wind- 
projects,  unfruitful  fanfaronades.  Young  Royalists,  at  the 
Theatre  de  Vaudeville,  “sing  couplets  ;  ”  if  that  could  do  any¬ 
thing.  Royalists  enough,  Captains  on  furlough,  burnt-out 
Seigneurs,  may  likewise  be  met  with,  “in  the  Cafe  de  Valois, 
and  at  Meot  the  Restaurateur’s.”  There  they  fan  one  another 
into  high  loyal  glow ;  drink,  in  such  wine  as  can  be  procured, 
confusion  to  Sansculottism ;  show  purchased  dirks,  of  an  im¬ 
proved  structure,  made  to  order ;  and,  greatly  daring,  dine.2 
It  is  in  these  places,  in  these  months,  that  the  epithet  Sanscu¬ 
lotte  first  gets  applied  to  indigent  Patriotism ;  in  the  last  age 
we  had  Gilbert  Sansculotte,  the  indigent  Poet.3  Destitute  of 
Breeches  :  a  mournful  Destitution  ;  which  however,  if  Twenty 
Millions  share  it,  may  become  more  effective  than  most  Pos¬ 
sessions  ! 

Meanwhile,  amid  this  vague  dim  whirl  of  fanfaronades, 
wind-projects,  poniards  made  to  order,  there  does  disclose 
itself  one  punctum-saliens  of  life  and  feasibility :  the  finger 

1  Campan,  ii.  199-201.  2  Dampmartin,  ii.  129. 

3  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  204. 


chap.  IV.  TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY.  397 

1791. 

of  Mirabeau  !  Mirabeau  and  the  Queen  of  France  have  met ; 
have  parted  with  mutual  trust !  It  is  strange ;  secret  as  the 
Mysteries ;  but  it  is  indubitable.  Mirabeau  took  horse,  one 
evening ;  and  rode  westward,  unattended,  —  to  see  Friend 
Claviere  in  that  country-house  of  his  ?  Before  getting  to 
Claviere’s,  the  much-musing  horseman  struck  aside  to  a  back 
gate  of  the  Garden  of  Saint-Cloud :  some  Duke  D’Aremberg, 
or  the  like,  was  there  to  introduce  him ;  the  Queen  was  not 
far ;  on  a  “  round  knoll,  rond  point,  the  highest  of  the  Garden 
of  Saint-Cloud/’  he  beheld  the  Queen’s  face  ;  spake  with  her, 
alone,  under  the  void  canopy  of  Night.  What  an  interview ; 
fateful,  secret  for  us,  after  all  searching ;  like  the  colloquies 
of  the  gods  ! 1  She  called  him  “  a  Mirabeau  :  ”  elsewhere  we 
read  that  she  “was  charmed  with  him,”  the  wild  submitted 
Titan;  as  indeed  it  is  among  the  honorable  tokens  of  this 
high  ill-fated  heart  that  no  mind  of  any  endowment,  no  Mira¬ 
beau,  nay  no  Barnave,  no  Dumouriez,  ever  came  face  to  face 
with  her  but,  in  spite  of  all  prepossessions,  she  was  forced  to 
recognize  it,  to  draw  nigh  to  it,  with  trust.  High  imperial 
heart ;  with  the  instinctive  attraction  towards  all  that  had 
any  height !  “You  know  not  the  Queen,”  said  Mirabeau  once 
in  confidence  ;  “  her  force  of  mind  is  prodigious  ;  she  is  a 
man  for  courage.”  2  —  And  so,  under  the  void  Night,  on  the 
crown  of  that  knoll,  she  has  spoken  with  a  Mirabeau  :  he  has 
kissed  loyally  the  queenly  hand,  and  said  with  enthusiasm : 
“Madame,  the  Monarchy  is  saved!”  —  Possible?  The  For¬ 
eign  Powers,  mysteriously  sounded,  gave  favorable  guarded 
response ; 3  Bouille  is  at  Metz,  and  could  find  forty  thousand 
sure  Germans.  With  a  Mirabeau  for  head,  and  a  Bouille  for 
hand,  something  verily  is  possible,  — if  Fate  intervene  not. 

But  figure  under  what  thousand-fold  wrappages,  and  cloaks 
of  darkness,  Royalty,  meditating  these  things,  must  involve 
itself.  There  are  men  with  “Tickets  of  Entrance;”,  there 
are  chivalrous  consultings,  mysterious  plottings.  Consider 
also  whether,  involve  as  it  like,  plotting  Royalty  can  escape 
the  glance  of  Patriotism ;  lynx-eyes,  by  the  ten  thousand, 

1  Campan,  ii.  c.  17.  2  Dumont,  p.  211. 

3  Correspondance  Secrete  (in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  169-173). 


398 


THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

fixed  on  it,  which  see  in  the  dark  !  Patriotism  knows  much  : 
knows  the  dirks  made  to  order,  and  can  specify  the  shops  ; 
knows  Sieur  Motier’s  legions  of  mouchards ;  the  Tickets  of 
Entree ,  and  men  in  black;  and  how  plan  of  evasion  succeeds 
plan,  —  or  may  be  supposed  to  succeed  it.  Then  conceive  the 
couplets  chanted  at  the  Theatre  de  Vaudeville ;  or  worse,  the 
whispers,  significant  nods  of  traitors  in  mustachios.  Con¬ 
ceive,  on  the  other  hand,  the  loud  cry  of  alarm  that  came 
through  the  Hundred  and  Thirty  J ournals ;  the  Dionysius’- 
Ear  of  each  of  the  Eorty-eight  Sections,  wakeful  night  and 
day. 

Patriotism  is  patient  of  much ;  not  patient  of  all.  The 
Cafe  de  Procope  has  sent,  visibly  along  the  streets,  a  Deputa¬ 
tion  of  Patriots,  “  to  expostulate  with  bad  Editors,”  by  trust¬ 
ful  word  of  mouth :  singular  to  see  and  hear.  The  bad  Editors 
promise  to  amend,  but  do  not.  Deputations  for  change  of 
Ministry  were  many ;  Mayor  Bailly  joining  even  with  Cor¬ 
delier  Danton  in  such  j  and  they  have  prevailed.  With  what 
profit  ?  Of  Quacks,  willing  or  constrained  to  be  Quacks,  the 
race  is  everlasting  :  Ministers  Duportail  and  Dutertre  will 
have  to  manage  much  as  Ministers  Latour-du-Pin  and  Cice 
did.  So  welters  the  confused  world. 

But  now,  beaten  on  forever  by  such  inextricable  contradic¬ 
tory  influences  and  evidences,  what  is  the  indigent  French 
Patriot,  in  these  unhappy  days,  to  believe,  and  walk  by  ? 
Uncertainty  all ;  except  that  he  is  wretched,  indigent ;  that  a 
glorious  Revolution,  the  wonder  of  the  Universe,  has  hitherto 
brought  neither  Bread  nor  Peace  ;  being  marred  by  traitors, 
difficult  to  discover.  Traitors  that  dwell  in  the  dark,  invisible 
there ;  —  or  seen  for  moments,  in  pallid  dubious  twilight, 
stealthily  vanishing  thither  !  Preternatural  Suspicion  once 
more  rules  the  minds  of  men. 

“Nobody  here,”  writes  Carra,  of  the  Annates  Patriotiques, 
so  early  as  the  first  of  February,  “  can  entertain  a  doubt  of 
the  constant  obstinate  project  these  people  have  on  foot  to 
get  the  King  away ;  or  of  the  perpetual  succession  of  manoeu¬ 
vres  they  employ  for  that.”  Nobody  :  the  watchful  Mother 
of  Patriotism  deputed  two  Members  to  her  Daughter  at  Ver- 


Chap.  IV.  TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY.  399 

Feb.  19. 

sailles,  to  examine  how  the  matter  looked  there.  Well,  and 
there  ?  Patriotic  Carra  continues  :  “  The  Report  of  these  two 
deputies  we  all  heard  with  our  own  ears  last  Saturday.  They 
went  with  others  of  Versailles,  to  inspect  the  King’s  Stables, 
also  the  stables  of  the  whilom  Gardes-du-Corps :  they  found 
there  from  seven  to  eight  hundred  horses  standing  always 
saddled  and  bridled,  ready  for  the  road  at  a  moment’s  notice. 
The  same  deputies,  moreover,  saw  with  their  own  two  eyes 
several  Royal  Carriages,  which  men  were  even  then  busy 
loading  with  large  well-stuffed  luggage-bags,”  leather  cows , 
as  we  call  them,  “  vaches  de  cuir ;  the  Royal  Arms  on  the 
panels  almost  entirely  effaced.”  Momentous  enough  !  Also 
“  on  the  same  day  the  whole  Marechaussee,  or  Cavalry  Police, 
did  assemble  with  arms,  horses  and  baggage,”  —  and  disperse 
again.  They  want  the  King  over  the  marches,  that  so  Em¬ 
peror  Leopold  and  the  German  Princes,  whose  troops  are 
ready,  may  have  a  pretext  for  beginning :  “  this,”  adds  Carra, 
“  is  the  word  of  the  riddle  :  this  is  the  reason  why  our  fugi¬ 
tive  Aristocrats  are  now  making  levies  of  men  on  the  fron¬ 
tiers  ;  expecting  that,  one  of  these  mornings,  the  Executive 
Chief  Magistrate  will  be  brought  over  to  them,  and  the  civil 
war  commence.”  1 

If  indeed  the  Executive  Chief  Magistrate,  bagged,  say  in 
one  of  these  leather  cows,  were  once  brought  safe  over  to  them  ! 
But  the  strangest  thing  of  all  is,  that  Patriotism,  whether 
barking  at  a  venture,  or  guided  by  some  instinct  of  preter¬ 
natural  sagacity,  is  actually  barking  aright  this  time ;  at  some¬ 
thing,  not  at  nothing.  Bouille’s  Secret  Correspondence,  since 
made  public,  testifies  as  much. 

Nay,  it  is  undeniable,  visible  to  all,  that  Mesdames  the  King’s 
Aunts  are  taking  steps  for  departure :  asking  passports  of  the 
Ministry,  safe-conducts  of  the  Municipality ;  which  Marat 
warns  all  men  to  beware  of.  They  will  carry  gold  with  them, 
“  these  old  Beguines  ;  ”  nay  they  will  carry  the  little  Dauphin, 
“  having  nursed  a  changeling,  for  some  time,  to  leave  in  his 
stead  ”  !  Besides,  they  are  as  some  light  substance  flung  up, 
to  show  how  the  wind  sits ;  a  kind  of  proof-kite  you  fly  off  to 
1  Carra’s  Newspaper,  1st  Feb.,  1791  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  39). 


400  THE  TUILEEIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

ascertain  whether  the  grand  paper-kite,  Evasion  of  the  King, 
may  mount ! 

In  these  alarming  circumstances,  Patriotism  is  not  wanting 
to  itself.  Municipality  deputes  to  the  King ;  Sections  depute 
to  the  Municipality ;  a  National  Assembly  will  soon  stir. 
Meanwhile,  behold,  on  the  19th  of  February,  1791,  Mesdames, 
quitting  Bellevue  and  Versailles  with  all  privacy,  are  off ! 
Towards  Borne,  seemingly ;  or  one  knows  not  whither.  They 
are  not  without  King’s  passports,  countersigned ;  and  what 
is  more  to  the  purpose,  a  serviceable  Escort.  The  Patriotic 
Mayor  or  Mavorlet  of  the  Village  of  Moret  tried  to  detain 
them:  but  brisk  Louis  de  Narbonne,  of  the  Escort,  dashed  off 
at  hand-gallop ;  returned  soon  with  thirty  dragoons,  and  vic¬ 
toriously  cut  them  out.  And  so  the  poor  ancient  women  go 
their  way  ;  to  the  terror  of  France  and  Paris,  whose  nervous 
excitability  is  become  extreme.  Who  else  would  hinder  poor 
Loque  and  Graille,  now  grown  so  old,  and  fallen  into  such 
unexpected  circumstances,  when  gossip  itself  turning  only  on 
terrors  and  horrors  is  no  longer  pleasant  to  the  mind,  and  you 
cannot  get  so  much  as  an  orthodox  confessor  in  peace,  —  from 
going  what  way  soever  the  hope  of  any  solacement  might  lead 
them  ? 

They  go,  poor  ancient  dames,  —  whom  the  heart  were  hard 
that  did  not  pity:  they  go;  with  palpitations,  with  unmelo- 
dious  suppressed  screechings ;  all  France  screeching  and  cack¬ 
ling,  in  loud  ^suppressed  terror,  behind  and  on  both  hands 
of  them  :  such  mutual  suspicion  is  among  men.  At  Arnay  le 
Due,  above  half-way  to  the  frontiers,  a  Patriotic  Municipality 
and  Populace  again  takes  courage  to  stop  them :  Louis  Nar- 
bonne  must  now  back  to  Paris,  must  consult  the  National 
Assembly.  National  Assembly  answers,  not  without  an  effort, 
that  Mesdames  may  go.  Whereupon  Paris  rises  worse  than 
ever,  screeching  half-distracted.  Tuileries  and  precincts  are 
filled  with  women  and  men,  while  the  National  Assembly 
debates  this  question  of  questions ;  Lafayette  is  needed  at 
night  for  dispersing  them,  and  the  streets  are  to  be  illuminated. 
Commandant  Berthier,  a  Berthier  before  whom  are  great  things 
unknown,  lies  for  the  present  under  blockade  at  Bellevue  in 


401 


Chap.  Y.  THE  DAY  OF  PONIARDS. 

Feb.  28. 

Versailles.  By  no  tactics  could  he  get  Mesdames’  Luggage 
stirred  from  the  Courts  there ;  frantic  Versaillese  women  came 
screaming  about  him;  his  very  troops  cut  the  wagon-traces; 
he  “  retired  to  the  interior/’  waiting  better  times.1 

Nay  in  these  same  hours,  while  Mesdames,  hardly  cut  out 
from  Moret  by  the  sabre’s  edge,  are  driving  rapidly,  to  foreign 
parts,  and  not  yet  stopped  at  Arnay,  their  august  Nephew 
poor  Monsieur,  at  Paris,  has  dived  deep  into  his  cellars  of  the 
Luxembourg  for  shelter;  and,  according  to  Montgaillard,  can 
hardly  be  persuaded  up  again.  Screeching  multitudes  environ 
that  Luxembourg  of  his ;  drawn  thither  by  report  of  his  de¬ 
parture  :  but  at  sight  and  sound  of  Monsieur,  they  become 
crowing  multitudes  ;  and  escort  Madame  and  him  to  the  Tuile- 
ries  with  vivats .2  It  is  a  state  of  nervous  excitability  such 
as  few  nations  know. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DAY  OF  PONIARDS. 

Or,  again,  what  means  this  visible  reparation  of  the  Castle 
of  Vincennes  ?  Other  Jails  being  all  crowded  with  prisoners, 
new  space  is  wanted  here  :  that  is  the  Municipal  account. 
For  in  such  changing  of  Judicatures,  Parlements  being  abol¬ 
ished,  and  New  Courts  but  just  set  up,  prisoners  have  accumu¬ 
lated.  Not  to  say  that  in  these  times  of  discord  and  club-law, 
offences  and  committals  are,  at  any  rate,  more  numerous. 
Which  Municipal  account,  does  it  not  sufficiently  explain  the 
phenomenon  ?  Surely,  to  repair  the  Castle  of  Vincennes  was 
of  all  enterprises  that  an  enlightened  Municipality  could 
undertake  the  most  innocent. 

Not  so,  however,  does  neighboring  Saint-Antoine  look  on  it: 
Saint- Antoine,  to  whom  these  peaked  turrets  and  grim  donjons, 
all  too  near  her  own  dark  dwelling,  are  of  themselves  an 

1  Campan,  ii.  132. 

2  Montgaillard,  ii.  282.  Deux  Amisy  vi.  c.  1. 

26 


VOL.  III. 


402  THE  TUILEKIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

offence.  Was  not  Vincennes  a  kind  of  minor  Bastille  ?  Great 
Diderot  and  Philosophes  have  lain  in  durance  here ;  great 
Mirabeau,  in  disastrous  eclipse,  for  forty-two  months.  And 
now  when  the  old  Bastille  has  become  a  dancing-ground  (had 
any  one  the  mirth  to  dance),  and  its  stones  are  getting  built 
into  the  Pont  Louis-Seize,  does  this  minor,  comparative  insig¬ 
nificance  of  a  Bastille  flank  itself  with  fresh-hewn  mullions, 
spread  out  tyrannous  wings;  manacing  Patriotism?  New 
space  for  prisoners  :  and  what  prisoners  ?  A  D’ Orleans,  with 
the  chief  Patriots  on  the  tip  of  the  Left  ?  It  is  said,  there 
runs  “  a  subterranean  passage  ”  all  the  way  from  the  Tuileries 
hither.  Who  knows  ?  Paris,  mined  with  quarries  and  cata¬ 
combs,  does  hang  wondrous  over  the  abyss ;  Paris  was  once  to 
be  blown  up,  —  though  the  powder,  when  we  went  to  look,  had 
got  withdrawn.  A  Tuileries,  sold  to  Austria  and  Coblentz, 
should  have  no  subterranean  passage.  Out  of  which  might  not 
Coblentz  or  Austria  issue,  some  morning ;  and,  with  cannon  of 
long  range,  “ foudroyer”  bethunder  a  patriotic  Saint-Antoine 
into  smoulder  and  ruin  ! 

So  meditates  the  benighted  soul  of  Saint-Antoine,  as  it  sees 
the  aproned  workmen,  in  early  spring,  busy  on  these  towers. 
An  official-speaking  Municipality,  a  Sieur  Motier  with  his 
legions  of  mouchards,  deserve  no  trust  at  all.  Were  Patriot 
Santerre,  indeed,  Commander !  But  the  sonorous  Brewer 
commands  only  our  own  Battalion :  of  such  secrets  he  can 
explain  nothing,  knows  nothing,  perhaps  suspects  much.  And 
so  the  work  goes  on ;  and  afflicted  benighted  Saint-Antoine 
hears  rattle  of  hammers,  sees  stones  suspended  in  air.1 

Saint-Antoine  prostrated  the  first  great  Bastille :  will  it 
falter  over  this  comparative  insignificance  of  a  Bastille  ? 
Friends,  what  if  we  took  pikes,  firelocks,  sledge-hammers ; 
and  helped  ourselves  !  —  Speedier  is  no  remedy ;  nor  so  cer¬ 
tain.  On  the  28th  day  of  February,  Saint-Antoine  turns  out,  as 
it  has  now  often  done ;  and,  apparently  with  little  superflu¬ 
ous  tumult,  moves  eastward  to  that  eye-sorrow  of  Vincennes. 
With  grave  voice  of  authority,  no  need  of  bullying  and  shout¬ 
ing,  Saint-Antoine  signifies  to  parties  concerned  there,  that  its 

1  Montgaillard,  ii.  285. 


Chap.  V.  THE  DAY  OF  PONIARDS.  403 

Feb.  28. 

purpose  is,  To  have  this  suspicious  Stronghold  razed  level 
with  the  general  soil  of  the  country.  Remonstrance  may  be 
proffered,  with  zeal :  but  it  avails  not.  The  outer  gate  goes  up, 
drawbridges  tumble  ;  iron  window-stanchions,  smitten  out  with 
sledge-hammers,  become  iron  crowbars :  it  rains  a  rain  of  fur¬ 
niture,  stone  masses,  slates  :  with  chaotic  clatter  and  rattle, 
Demolition  clatters  down.  And  now  hasty  expresses  rush 
through  the  agitated  streets,  to  warn  Lafayette,  and  the  Muni¬ 
cipal  and  Departmental  Authorities  ;  Rumor  warns  a  National 
Assembly,  a  Royal  Tuileries,  and  all  men  who  care  to  hear  it : 
That  Saint- Antoine  is  up;  that  Vincennes,  and  probably  the 
last  remaining  Institution  of  the  Country,  is  coming  down.1 

Quick,  then!  Let  Lafayette  roll  his  drums  and  fly  east¬ 
ward  ;  for  to  all  Constitutional  Patriots  this  is  again  bad 
news.  And  you,  ye  Friends  of  Royalty,  snatch  your  poniards 
of  improved  structure,  made  to  order ;  your  sword-canes,  secret 
arms,  and  tickets  of  entry ;  quick,  by  backstairs  passages,  rally 
round  the  Son  of  Sixty  Kings.  An  effervescence  probably 
got  up  by  D’Orleans  and  Company,  for  the  overthrow  of 
Throne  and  Altar :  it  is  said  her  Majesty  shall  be  put  in 
prison,  put  out  of  the  way ;  what  then  will  his  Majesty  be  ? 
Clay  for  the  Sansculottic  Potter !  Or  were  it  impossible  to 
fly  this  day ;  a  brave  Noblesse  suddenly  all  rallying  ?  Peril 
threatens,  hope  invites :  Dukes  de  Villequier,  de  Duras,  Gen¬ 
tlemen  of  the  Chamber  give  Tickets  and  admittance ;  a  brave 
Noblesse  is  suddenly  all  rallying.  Now  were  the  time  to 
“  fall  sword  in  hand  on  those  gentry  there,”  could  it  be  done 
with  effect. 

The  Hero  of  two  Worlds  is  on  his  white  charger:  .blue 
Nationals,  horse  and  foot,  hurrying  eastward ;  Santerre,  with 
the  Saint- Antoine  Battalion,  is  already  there,  —  apparently 
indisposed  to  act.  Heaven-laden  Hero  of  two  Worlds,  what 
tasks  are  these  !  The  jeerings,  provocative  gajnbollings  of  that 
Patriot  Suburb,  which  is  all  out  on  the  streets  now,  are  hard 
to  endure;  unwashed  Patriots  jeering  in  sulky  sport;  one 
unwashed  Patriot  “  seizing  the  General  by  the  boot,”  to  un¬ 
horse  him.  Santerre,  ordered  to  fire,  makes  answer  obliquely, 

1  Deux  Amis,  vi.  11-15.  Newspapers  (in  Hist.  Pari  ix.  111-117). 


404  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

“  These  are  the  men  that  took  the  Bastille ;  ”  and  not  a  trigger 
stirs.  Neither  dare  the  Vincennes  Magistracy  give  warrant 
of  arrestment,  or  the  smallest  countenance  :  wherefore  the 
General  “  will  take  it  on  himself  ”  to  arrest.  By  promptitude, 
by  cheerful  adroitness,  patience  and  brisk  valor  without  limits, 
the  riot  may  be  again  bloodlessly  appeased. 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  Paris,  with  more  or  less  unconcern, 
may  mind  the  rest  of  its  business :  for  what  is  this  but  an 
effervescence,  of  which  there  are  now  so  many  ?  The  National 
Assembly,  in  one  of  its  stormiest  moods,  is  debating  a  Law 
against  Emigration ;  Mirabeau  declaring  aloud,  “  I  swear  be¬ 
forehand  that  I  will  not  obey  it.”  Mirabeau  is  often  at  the 
Tribune  this  day ;  with  endless  impediments  from  without ; 
with  the  old  unabated  energy  from  within.  What  can  mur¬ 
murs  and  clamors,  from  Left  or  from  Right,  do  to  this  man ; 
like  Teneriffe  or  Atlas  unremoved?  With  clear  thought;  with 
strong  bass  voice,  though  at  first  low,  uncertain,  he  claims 
audience,  sways  the  storm  of  men :  anon  the  sound  of  him 
waxes,  softens  :  he  rises  into  far-sounding  melody  of  strength, 
triumphant,  which  subdues  all  hearts ;  his  rude  seamed  face, 
desolate,  fire-scathed,  becomes  fire-lit,  and  radiates :  once  again 
men  feel,  in  these  beggarly  ages,  what  is  the  potency  and 
omnipotency  of  man’s  word  on  the  souls  of  men.  “  I  will 
triumph,  or  be  torn  in  fragments,”  he  was  once  heard  to  say. 
“  Silence,”  he  cries  now,  in  strong  word  of  command,  in  im¬ 
perial  consciousness  of  strength,  “  Silence,  the  thirty  voices, 
Silence  aux  trente  voix !  ”  —  and  Robespierre  and  the  Thirty 
Voices  die  into  mutterings  ;  and  the  Law  is  once  more  as 
Mirabeau  would  have  it. 

How  different,  at  the  same  instant,  is  General  Lafayette’s 
street-eloquence  ;  wrangling  with  sonorous  Brewers,  with  an 
ungrammatical  Saint- Antoine  !  Most  different,  again,  from 
both  is  the  Caf e-de-Valois  eloquence,  and  suppressed  fanfaro¬ 
nade,  of  this  multitude  of  men  with  Tickets  of  Entry;  who 
are  now  inundating  the  Corridors  of  the  Tuileries.  Such 
things  can  go  on  simultaneously  in  one  City.  How  much 
more  in  one  Country ;  in  one  Planet  with  its  discrepancies, 
every  Day  a  mere  crackling  infinitude  of  discrepancies,  — 


Chap.  V.  THE  DAY  OF  PONIARDS.  405 

Feb.  28. 

which  nevertheless  do  yield  some  coherent  net-product,  though 
an  infinitesimally  small  one  ! 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  Lafayette  has  saved  Vincennes ;  and 
is  marching  homewards  with  some  dozen  of  arrested  demoli- 
tionists.  Royalty  is  not  yet  saved  —  nor  indeed  specially 
endangered.  But  to  the  King’s  Constitutional  Guard,  to  these 
old  Gardes  Francises,  or  Centre  Grenadiers,  as  it  chanced 
to  be,  this  affluence  of  men  with  Tickets  of  Entry  is  becom¬ 
ing  more  and  more  unintelligible.  Is  his  Majesty  verily  for 
Metz,  then ;  to  be  carried  off  by  these  men,  on  the  spur  of  the 
instant  ?  That  revolt  of  Saint- Antoine  got  up  by  traitor 
Royalists  for  a  stalking-horse  ?  Keep  a  sharp  outlook,  ye 
Centre  Grenadiers  on  duty  here  :  good  never  came  from  the 
“men  in  black.”  Kay  they  have  cloaks,  redingotes  ;  some  of 
them  leather  breeches,  boots,  —  as  if  for  instant  riding  !  Or 
what  is  this  that  sticks  visible  from  the  lapelle  of  Chevalier 
de  Court  ?  1  Too  like  the  handle  of  some  cutting  or  stabbing 
instrument !  He  glides  and  goes  ;  and  still  the  dudgeon  sticks 
from  his  left  lapelle.  “Hold,  Monsieur!” — a  Centre  Grena¬ 
dier  clutches  him;  clutches  the  protrusive  dudgeon,  whisks 
it  out  in  the  face  of  the  world :  by  Heaven,  a  very  dagger ; 
hunting-knife  or  whatsoever  you  will  call  it ;  fit  to  drink  the 
life  of  Patriotism ! 

So  fared  it  with  Chevalier  de  Court,  early  in  the  day ;  not 
without  noise;  not  without  commentaries.  And  now  this 
continually  increasing  multitude  at  nightfall  ?  Have  they 
daggers  too  ?  Alas,  with  them  too,  after  angry  parleyings, 
there  has  begun  a  groping  and  a  rummaging ;  all  men  in 
black,  spite  of  their  Tickets  of  Entry,  are  clutched  by  the 
collar,  and  groped.  Scandalous  to  think  of :  for  always,  as 
the  dirk,  sword-cane,  pistol,  or  were  it  but  tailor’s  bodkin,  is 
found  on  him,  and  with  loud  scorn  drawn  forth  from  him,  he, 
the  hapless  man  in  black,  is  flung  all  too  rapidly  down  stairs. 
Flung ;  and  ignominiously  descends,  -head  foremost ;  acceler¬ 
ated  by  ignominious  shovings  from  sentry  after  sentry ;  nay, 
as  is  written,  by  smitings,  twitchings,  —  spurnings  a  posteri¬ 
ori,  not  to  be  named.  In  this  accelerated  way  emerges,  uncer- 

1  Weber,  ii.  286. 


406  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

tain  which  end  uppermost,  man  after  man  in  black,  through 
all  issues,  into  the  Tuileries  Garden ;  emerges,  alas,  into  the 
arms  of  an  indignant  multitude,  now  gathered  and  gathering 
there,  in  the  hour  of  dusk,  to  see  what  is  toward,  and  whether 
the  Hereditary  Representative  is  carried  off  or  not.  Hapless 
men  in  black ;  at  last  convicted  of  poniards  made  to  order ; 
convicted  “  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  ”  !  Within  is  as  the 
burning  ship  ;  without  is  as  the  deep  sea.  Within  is  no  help  ; 
his  Majesty,  looking  forth,  one  moment,  from  his  interior  sanc¬ 
tuaries,  coldly  bids  all  visitors  “  give  up  their  weapons ;  ”  and 
shuts  the  door  again.  The  weapons  given  up  form  a  heap : 
the  convicted  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  keep  descending  pell- 
mell,  with  impetuous  velocity  ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  all  stair¬ 
cases  the  mixed  multitude  receives  them,  hustles,  buffets, 
chases  and  disperses  them.1 

Such  sight  meets  Lafayette,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  as 
he  returns,  successful  with  difficulty  at  Vincennes :  Sans¬ 
culotte  Scylla  hardly  weathered,  here  is  Aristocrat  Charybdis 
gurgling  under  his  lee  !  The  patient  Hero  of  two  Worlds 
almost  loses  temper.  He  accelerates,  does  not  retard,  the 
flying  Chevaliers  ;  delivers,  indeed,  this  or  the  other  hunted 
Loyalist  of  quality,  but  rates  him  in  bitter  words,  such  as  the 
hour  suggested;  such  as  no  saloon  could  pardon.  Hero  ill- 
bested  ;  hanging,  so  to  speak,  in  mid-air ;  hateful  to  Rich 
divinities  above ;  hatef  ul  to  Indigent  mortals  below !  Duke 
de  Villequier,  Gentleman  of  the  Chamber,  gets  such  contume¬ 
lious  rating,  in  presence  of  all  people  there,  that  he  may  see 
good  first  to  exculpate  himself  in  the  Newspapers  ;  then,  that 
not  prospering,  to  retire  over  the  Frontiers,  and  begin  plotting 
at  Brussels.2  His  Apartment  will  stand  vacant ;  usefuler,  as 
we  may  find,  than  when  it  stood  occupied. 

So  fly  the  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard ;  hunted  of  Patriotic 
men,  shamefully  in  the  thickening  dusk.  A  dim  miserable 
business  ;  born  of  darkness  ;  dying  away  there  in  the  thicken¬ 
ing  dusk  and  dimness.  In  the  midst  of  which,  however,  let 
the  reader  discern  clearly  one  figure  running  for  its  life : 
Crispin-Catiline  d’Espr^menil,  —  for  the  last  time,  or  the  last 
1  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  139-148.  2  Montgaillard,  ii.  286. 


Chap.  Y.  THE  DAY  OF  PONIARDS.  407 

Feb.  28. 

but  one.  It  is  not  yet  three  years  since  these  same  Centre 
Grenadiers,  Gardes  FranQaises  then,  marched  him  towards  the 
Calypso  Isles,  in  the  gray  of  the  May  morning ;  and  he  and 
they  have  got  thus  far.  Buffeted,  beaten  down,  delivered  by 
popular  Petion,  he  might  well  answer  bitterly :  “  And  I  too, 
Monsieur,  have  been  carried  on  the  People’s  shoulders.” 1  A 
fact  which  popular  Petion,  if  he  like,  can  meditate. 

But  happily,  one  way  and  another,  the  speedy  night  covers 
up  this  ignominious  Day  of  Poniards ;  and  the  Chevaliers 
escape,  though  maltreated,  with  torn  coat-skirts  and  heavy 
hearts,  to  their  respective  dwelling-houses.  Riot  twofold  is 
quelled ;  and  little  blood  shed,  if  it  be  not  insignificant  blood 
from  the  nose  :  Vincennes  stands  undemolished,  reparable ; 
and  the  Hereditary  Representative  has  not  been  stolen,  nor 
the  Queen  smuggled  into  Prison.  A  day  long  remembered: 
commented  on  with  loud  hahas  and  deep  grumblings  ;  with 
bitter  scornfulness  of  triumph,  bitter  rancor  of  defeat.  Roy¬ 
alism,  as  usual,  imputes  it  to  D’ Orleans  and  the  Anarchists 
intent  on  insulting  Majesty :  Patriotism,  as  usual,  to  Royal¬ 
ists,  and  even  Constitutionalists,  intent  on  stealing  Majesty  to 
Metz  :  we,  also  as  usual,  to  Preternatural  Suspicion,  and  Phoe¬ 
bus  Apollo  having  made  himself  like  the  Night. 

Thus,  however,  has  the  reader  seen,  in  an  unexpected  arena, 
on  this  last  day  of  February,  1791,  the  Three  long-contending 
elements  of  French  Society  dashed  forth  into  singular  comico- 
tragical  collision ;  acting  and  reacting  openly  to  the  eye.  Con¬ 
stitutionalism,  at  once  quelling  Sansculottic  riot  at  Vincennes, 
and  Royalist  treachery  in  the  Tuileries,  is  great,  this  day,  and 
prevails.  As  for  poor  Royalism,  tossed  to  and  fro  in  that 
manner,  its  daggers  all  left  in  a  heap,  what  can  one  think  of 
it  ?  Every  dog,  the  Adage  says,  has  its  day  :  has  it ;  has  had 
it ;  or  will  have  it.  For  the  present,  the  day  is  Lafayette’s 
and  the  Constitution’s.  Nevertheless  Hunger  and  Jacobinism, 
fast  growing  fanatical,  still  work ;  their  day,  were  they  once 
fanatical,  will  come.  Hitherto,  in  all  tempests,  Lafayette, 
like  some  divine  Sea-ruler,  raises  his  serene  head:  the  upper 

1  See  Mercier,  ii.  40,  202. 


408 


THE  TUILERIES. 


_ _  Book  X. 

1791. 

iEolus  blasts  fly  back  to  their  caves,,  like  foolish  unbidden 
winds  :  the  under  sea-billows  they  had  vexed  into  froth  allay 
themselves.  But  if,  as  we  often  write,  the  sw£>marine  Titanic 
Fire-powers  came  into  play,  the  Ocean-bed  from  beneath  being 
burst  ?  If  they  hurled  Poseidon  Lafayette  and  his  Constitu¬ 
tion  out  of  Space ;  and,  in  the  Titanic  melly,  sea  were  mixed 
with  sky  ? 


CHAPTER  VL 

MIRABEAU. 

The  spirit  of  France  waxes  ever  more  acrid,  fever-sick: 
towards  the  final  outburst  of  dissolution  and  delirium.  Sus¬ 
picion  rules  all  minds :  contending  parties  cannot  now  com¬ 
mingle  ;  stand  separated  sheer  asunder,  eying  one  another,  in 
most  aguish  mood,  of  cold  terror  or  hot  rage.  Counter-Revo¬ 
lution,  Days  of  Poniards,  Castries  Duels  ;  Flight  of  Mesdames, 
of  Monsieur  and  Royalty  !  Journalism  shrills  ever  louder  its 
cry  of  alarm.  The  sleepless  Dionysius’-Ear  of  the  Forty-eight 
Sections,  how  feverishly  quick  has  it  grown  ;  convulsing  with 
strange  pangs  the  whole  sick  Body,  as  in  such  sleeplessness 
and  sickness  the  ear  will  do ! 

Since  Royalists  get  Poniards  made  to  order,  and  a  Sieur 
Motier  is  no  better  than  he  should  be,  shall  not  Patriotism  too, 
even  of  the  indigent  sort,  have  Pikes,  second-hand  Firelocks, 
in  readiness  for  the  worst  ?  The  anvils  ring,  during  this 
March  month,  with  hammering  of  Pikes.  A  Constitutional 
Municipality  promulgated  its  Placard,  that  no  citizen  except 
the  “  active  ”  or  cash-citizen  was  entitled  to  have  arms  ;  but 
there  rose,  instantly  responsive,  such  a  tempest  of  astonish¬ 
ment  from  Club  and  Section,  that  the  Constitutional  Placard, 
almost  next  morning,  had  to  cover  itself  up,  and  die  away 
into  inanity,  in  a  second  improved  edition.1  So  the  hammer¬ 
ing  continues ;  as  all  that  it  betokens  does. 

1  Ordonnance  du  17  Mars,  1791  ( Hist.  Pari.  ix.  257). 


Chap.  VI.  MIKABEAU.  409 

March. 

Mark,  again,  how  the  extreme  tip  of  the  Left  is  mounting 
in  favor,  if  not  in  its  own  National  Hall,  yet  with  the  Nation, 
especially  with  Paris.  For  in  such  universal  panic  of  doubt, 
the  opinion  that  is  sure  of  itself,  as  the  meagrest  opinion  may 
the  soonest  be,  is  the  one  to  which  all  men  will  rally.  Great  is 
Belief,  were  it  never  so  meagre ;  and  leads  captive  the  doubt¬ 
ing  heart.  Incorruptible  Bobespierre  has  been  elected  Public 
Accuser  in  our  new  Courts  of  Judicature;  virtuous  Petion,  it 
is  thought,  may  rise  to  be  Mayor.  Cordelier  Danton,  called 
also  by  triumphant  majorities,  sits  at  the  Departmental 
Council-table  ;  colleague  there  of  Mirabeau.  Of  incorruptible 
Bobespierre  it  was  long  ago  predicted  that  he  might  go  far, 
mean  meagre  mortal  though  he  was ;  for  Doubt  dwelt  not  in 
him. 

Under  which  circumstances  ought  not  Boyalty  likewise 
to  cease  doubting,  and  begin  deciding  and  acting  ?  Boyalty 
has  always  that  sure  trump-card  in  its  hand :  Flight  out  of 
Paris.  Which  sure  trump-card  Boyalty,  as  we  see,  keeps 
ever  and  anon  clutching  at,  grasping ;  and  swashes  it  forth 
tentatively ;  yet  never  tables  it,  still  puts  it  back  again. 
Play  it,  0  Boyalty  !  If  there  be  a  chance  left,  this  seems  it, 
and  verily  the  last  chance ;  and  now  every  hour  is  rendering 
this  a  doubtfuler.  Alas,  one  would  so  fain  both  fly  and  not 
fly ;  play  one’s  card  and  have  it  to  play.  Boyalty,  in  all 
human  likelihood,  will  not  play  its  trump-card  till  the  honors, 
one  after  one,  be  mainly  lost ;  and  such  trumping  of  it  prove 
to  be  the  sudden  finish  of  the  game  ! 

Here  accordingly  a  question  always  arises  ;  of  the  pro¬ 
phetic  sort ;  which  cannot  now  be  answered.  Suppose  Mira¬ 
beau,  with  whom  Boyalty  takes  deep  counsel,  as  with  a 
Prime  Minister  that  cannot  yet  legally  avow  himself  as  such, 
had  got  his  arrangements  completed  ?  Arrangements  he  has ; 
far-stretching  plans  that  dawn  fitfully  on  us,  by  fragments, 
in  the  confused  darkness.  Thirty  Departments  ready  to  sign 
loyal  Addresses,  of  prescribed  tenor :  King  carried  out  of 
Paris,  but  only  to  Compiegne  and  Bouen,  hardly  to  Metz, 
since,  once  for  all,  no  Emigrant  rabble  shall  take  the  lead  in 
it :  National  Assembly  consenting,  by  dint  of  loyal  Addresses, 


410 


THE  TUILERIES. 


Book  X. 
1791. 

by  management,  by  force  of  Bouille,  to  bear  reason,  and 
follow  thitber  ! 1  Was  it  so,  on  these  terms,  that  Jacobinism 
and  Mirabeau  were  then  to  grapple,  in  their  Hercules-and- 
Typhon  duel ;  Death  inevitable  for  the  one  or  the  other  ? 
The  duel  itself  is  determined  on,  and  sure:  but  on  what 
terms ;  much  more,  with  what  issue,  we  in  vain  guess.  It 
is  vague  darkness  all :  unknown  what  is  to  be ;  unknown 
even  what  has  already  been.  The  giant  Mirabeau  walks  in 
darkness,  as  we  said  ;  companionless,  On  wild  ways :  what  his 
thoughts  during  these  months  were,  no  record  of  Biographer, 
nor  vague  Fils  Adoptif,  will  now  ever  disclose. 

To  us,  endeavoring  to  cast  his  horoscope,  it  of  course 
remains  doubly  vague.  There  is  one  Herculean  Man;  in 
internecine  duel  with  him,  there  is  Monster  after  Monster. 
Emigrant  Noblesse  return,  sword  on  thigh,  vaunting  of  their 
Loyalty  never  sullied ;  descending  from  the  air,  like  Harpy- 
swarms  with  ferocity,  with  obscene  greed.  Earthward  there 
is  the  Typhon  of  Anarchy,  Political,  Religious ;  sprawling 
hundred-headed,  say  with  Twenty-five  Million  heads ;  wide 
as  the  area  of  France ;  fierce  as  Frenzy ;  strong  in  very 
Hunger.  With  these  shall  the  Serpent-queller  do  battle 
continually,  and  expect  no  rest. 

As  for  the  King,  he  as  usual  will  go  wavering  chameleon¬ 
like  ;  changing  color  and  purpose  with  the  color  of  his 
environment;  —  good  for  no  Kingly  use.  On  one  royal  per¬ 
son,  on  the  Queen  only,  can  Mirabeau  perhaps  place  de¬ 
pendence.  It  is  possible,  the  greatness  of  this  man,  not 
unskilled  too  in  blandishments,  courtiership,  and  graceful 
adroitness,  might,  with  most  legitimate  sorcery,  fascinate  the 
volatile  Queen,  and  fix  her  to  him.  She  has  courage  for  all 
noble  daring ;  an  eye  and  a  heart :  the  soul  of  Theresa’s 
Daughter.  “  Faut-il  done ,  Is  it  fated  then,”  she  passionately 
writes  to  her  Brother,  “  that  I  with  the  blood  I  am  come  of, 
with  the  sentiments  I  have,  must  live  and  die  among  such 
mortals  ?  ” 2  Alas,  poor  Princess,  Yes.  “  She  is  the  only  man” 
as  Mirabeau  observes,  “whom  his  Majesty  has  about  him.” 

1  See  Fils  Adoptif,  vii.  1.  6 ;  Dumont,  c.  11,  12,  14. 

2  Fils  Adoptif,  ubi  suprk. 


Chap.  VI.  MIRABEAU.  411 

March. 

Of  one  other  man  Mirabeau  is  still  surer :  of  himself.  There 
lie  his  resources  ;  sufficient  or  insufficient. 

Dim  and  great  to  the  eye  of  Prophecy  looks  that  future. 
A  perpetual  life-and-death  battle ;  confusion  from  above  and 
from  below ;  —  mere  confused  darkness  for  us ;  with  here  and 
there  some  streak  of  faint  lurid  light.  We  see  a  King  per¬ 
haps  laid  aside ;  not  tonsured,  —  tonsuring  is  out  of  fashion 
now,  —  but  say,  sent  away  any-whither,  with  handsome  annual 
allowance,  and  stock  of  smith-tools.  We  see  a  Queen  and 
Dauphin,  Regent  and  Minor ;  a  Queen  “  mounted  on  horse¬ 
back,57  in  the  din  of  battles,  with  Moriamur  pro  rege  nostro  ! 
“  Such  a  day,”  Mirabeau  writes,  “  may  come.” 

Din  of  battles,  wars  more  than  civil,  confusion  from  above 
and  from  below :  in  such  environment  the  eye  of  Prophecy 
sees  Comte  de  Mirabeau,  like  some  Cardinal  de  Retz,  storm- 
fully  maintain  himself ;  with  head  all-devising,  heart  all¬ 
daring,  if  not  victorious,  yet  unvanquished,  while  life  is  left 
him.  The  specialities  and  issues  of  it,  no  eye  of  Prophecy 
can  guess  at :  it  is  clouds,  we  repeat,  and  tempestuous  night ; 
and  in  the  middle  of  it,  now  visible,  far-darting,  now  laboring 
in  eclipse,  is  Mirabeau  indomitably  struggling  to  be  Cloud- 
Compeller  !  —  One  can  say  that,  had  Mirabeau  lived,  the 
History  of  France  and  of  the  World  had  been  different. 
Further,  that  the  man  would  have  needed,  as  few  men  ever 
did,  the  whole  compass  of  that  same  “Art  of  Daring,  Art 
d 5  Oser ,”  which  he  so  prized  ;  and  likewise  that  he,  above  all 
men  then  living,  would  have  practised  and  manifested  it. 
Finally,  that  some  substantiality,  and  no  empty  simulacrum 
of  a  formula,  would  have  been  the  result  realized  by  him :  a 
result  you  could  have  loved,  a  result  you  could  have  hated ; 
by  no  likelihood,  a  result  you  could  only  have  rejected  with 
closed  lips,  and  swept  into  quick  forgetfulness  forever.  Had 
Mirabeau  lived  one  other  year ! 


THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

DEATH  OF  MIRABEAU. 

But  Mirabeau  could  not  live  another  year,  any  more  than 
he  eonld  live  another  thousand  years.  Men’s  years  are  num¬ 
bered,  and  the  tale  of  Mirabeau’s  was  now  complete.  Impor¬ 
tant  or  unimportant;  to  be  mentioned  in  World-History  for 
some  centuries,  or  not  to  be  mentioned  there  beyond  a  day  or 
two,  —  it  matters  not  to  peremptory  Fate.  From  amid  the 
press  of  ruddy  busy  Life,  the  Pale  Messenger  beckons  silently : 
wide-spreading  interests,  projects,  salvation  of  French  Mon¬ 
archies,  what  thing  soever  man  has  on  hand,  he  must  suddenly 
quit  it  all,  and  go.  Wert  thou  saving  French  Monarchies ; 
wert  thou  blacking  shoes  on  the  Pont  Neuf !  The  most  impor¬ 
tant  of  men  cannot  stay ;  did.  the  World’s  History  depend  on 
an  hour,  that  hour  is  not  to  be  given.  Whereby,  indeed,  it 
comes  that  these  same  would-have-beens  are  mostly  a  vanity ; 
and  the  World’s  History  could  never  in  the  least  be  what  it 
would,  or  might,  or  should,  by  any  manner  of  potentiality,  but 
simply  and  altogether  what  it  is. 

The  fierce  wear  and  tear  of  such  an  existence  has  wasted 
out  the  giant  oaken  strength  of  Mirabeau.  A  fret  and  fever 
that  keeps  heart  and  brain  on  fire :  excess  of  effort,  of  excite¬ 
ment  ;  excess  of  all  kinds  :  labor  incessant,  almost  beyond 
credibility !  “  If  I  had  not  lived  with  him,”  says  Dumont, 

"  I  never  should  have  known  what  a  man  can  make  of  one 
day ;  what  things  may  be  placed  within  the  interval  of  twelve 
hours.  A  day  for  this  man  was  more  than  a  week  or  a  month 
is  for  others  :  the  mass  of  things  he  guided  on  together  was 
prodigious ;  from  the  scheming  to  the  executing  not  a  moment 
lost.”  —  “  Monsieur  le  Comte,”  said  his  Secretary  to  him  once, 


Chap.  YII.  DEATH  OF  MIRABEAU.  413 

March. 

“  what  you  require  is  impossible.”  —  “  Impossible !  ”  —  answered 
he,  starting  from  his  chair,  “  Ne  me  dites  jamais  ce  bete  de  mot, 
Never  name  to  me  that  blockhead  of  a  word.” 1  And  then  the 
social  repasts;  the  dinner  which  he  gives  as  Commandant  of 
National  Guards,  which  “  cost  five  hundred  pounds ;  ”  alas, 
and  “  the  Sirens  of  the  Opera ;  ”  and  all  the  ginger  that  is 
hot  in  the  mouth:  — ’down  what  a  course  is  this  man  hurled ! 
Cannot  Mirabeau  stop ;  cannot  he  fly,  and  save  himself  alive  ? 
No  !  there  is  a  Nessus’-Shirt  on  this  Hercules ;  he  must  storm 
and  burn  there,  without  rest,  till  he  be  consumed.  Human 
strength,  never  so  Herculean,  has  its  measure.  Herald  shadows 
flit  pale  across  the  fire-brain  of  Mirabeau ;  heralds  of  the  pale 
repose.  While  he  tosses  and  storms,  straining  every  nerve, 
in  that  sea  of  ambition  and  confusion,  there  comes,  sombre 
and  still,  a  monition  that  for  him  the  issue  of  it  will  be  swift 
death. 

In  January  last,  you  might  see  him  as  President  of  the 
Assembly ;  “  his  neck  wrapt  in  linen  cloths,  at  the  evening 
session  :  ”  there  was  sick  heat  of  the^  blood,  alternate  darken¬ 
ing  and  flashing  in  the  eyesight ;  he  had  to  apply  leeches, 
after  the  morning  labor,  and  preside  bandaged.  “  At  parting 
he  embraced  me,”  says  Dumont,  “  with  an  emotion  I  had  never 
seen  in  him :  ‘  I  am  dying,  my  friend  ;  dying  as  by  slow  fire ; 
we  shall  perhaps  not  meet  again.  When  I  am  gone,  they  will 
know  what  the  value  of  me  was.  The  miseries  I  have  held 
back  will  burst  from  all  sides  on  France.’  ” 2  Sickness  gives 
louder  warning;  but  cannot  be  listened  to.  On  the  27th  day 
of  March,  proceeding  towards  the  Assembly,  he  had  to  seek 
rest  and  help  in  Friend  de  Lamarck’s,  by  the  road ;  and  lay 
there,  for  an  hour,  half-fainted,  stretched  on  a  sofa.  To  the 
Assembly  nevertheless  he  went,  as  if  in  spite  of  Destiny 
itself ;  spoke,  loud  and  eager,  five  several  times  ;  then  quitted 
the  Tribune  —  forever.  He  steps  out,  utterly  exhausted,  into 
the  Tuileries  Gardens  ;  many  people  press  round  him,  as 
usual,  with  applications,  memorials  ;  he  says  to  the  Friend 
who  was  with  him :  “  Take  me  out  of  this  !  ” 

And  so,  on  the  last  day  of  March,  1791,  endless  anxious 

1  Dumont,  p.  311.  2  lb.  p.  267. 


414  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

multitudes  beset  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d’Antin  ;  incessantly 
inquiring :  within  doors  there,  in  that  House  numbered,  in 
our  time,  42,  the  overwearied  giant  has  fallen  down,  to  die.1 
Crowds  of  all  parties  and  kinds ;  of  all  ranks  from  the  King 
to  the  meanest  man !  The  King  sends  publicly  twice  a  day  to 
inquire ;  privately  besides :  from  the  world  at  large  there  is 
no  end  of  inquiring.  “  A  written  bulletin  is  handed  out  every 
three  hours,”  is  copied  and  circulated ;  in  the  end,  it  is  printed. 
The  People  spontaneously  keep  silence ;  no  carriage  shall  enter 
with  its  noise :  there  is  crowding  pressure ;  but  the  Sister  of 
Mirabeau  is  reverently  recognized,  and  has  free  way  made  for 
her.  The  People  stand  mute,  heart-stricken ;  to  all  it  seems 
as  if  a  great  calamity  were  nigh :  as  if  the  last  man  of  France, 
who  could  have  swayed  these  coming  troubles,  lay  there  at 
hand-grips  with  the  unearthly  Power. 

The  silence  of  a  whole  People,  the  wakeful  toil  of  Cabanis, 
Friend  and  Physician,  skills  not :  on  Saturday  the  second  day 
of  April,  Mirabeau  feels  that  the  last  of  the  Days  has  risen  for 
him ;  that  on  this  day  he  has  to  depart  and  be  no  more.  His 
death  is  Titanic,  as  his  life  has  been !  Lit  up,  for  the  last 
time,  in  the  glare  of  coming  dissolution,  the  mind  of  the  man 
is  all  glowing  and  burning;  utters  itself  in  sayings,  such  as 
men  long  remember.  He  longs  to  live,  yet  acquiesces  in  death, 
argues  not  with  the  inexorable.  His  speech  is  wild  and  won¬ 
drous  :  unearthly  Phantasms  dancing  now  their  torch-dance 
round  his  soul ;  the  soul  itself  looking  out,  fire-radiant,  motion¬ 
less,  girt  together  for  that  great  hour  !  At  times  comes  a 
beam  of  light  from  him  on  the  world  he  is  quitting.  “  I  carry 
in  my  heart  the  death-dirge  of  the  French  Monarchy;  the 
dead  remains  of  it  will  now  be  the  spoil  of  the  factious.”  Or 
again,  when  he  heard  the  cannon  fire,  what  is  characteristic 
too  :  “  Have  we  the  Achilles’  Funeral  already  ?”  So  likewise, 
while  some  friend  is  supporting  him  :  “  Yes,  support  that 
head  ;  would  I  could  bequeath  it  thee  !  ”  For  the  man  dies  as 
he  has  lived;  self-conscious,  conscious  of  a  world  looking  on. 
He  gazes  forth  on  the  young  Spring,  which  for  him  will  never 
be  Summer.  The  Sun  has  risen ;  he  says,  “  Si  ce  n’est  pas  la 

1  Fils  Adoptif,  viii.  420-479. 


Chap.  VII.  DEATH  OF  MIRABEAU.  415 

April  2. 

Dieiij  c’est  du  moins  son  cousin  germain .” 1 — Death  has  mastered 
the  outworks ;  power  of  speech  is  gone  ;  the  citadel  of  the 
heart  still  holding  out :  the  moribund  giant,  passionately,  by 
sign,  demands  paper  and  pen ;  writes  his  passionate  demand 
for  opium,  to  end  these  agonies.  The  sorrowful  Doctor  shakes 
his  head :  Dormir,  “  To  sleep,”  writes  the  other,  passionately 
pointing  at  it !  So  dies  a  gigantic  Heathen  and  Titan  ;  stum¬ 
bling  blindly,  undismayed,  down  to  his  rest.  At  half-past 
eight  in  the  morning,  Doctor  Petit,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  says,  “  11  ne  souffre  plus.”  His  suffering  and  his  working 
are  now  ended. 

Even  so,  ye  silent  Patriot  multitudes,  all  ye  men  of  France ; 
this  man  is  rapt  away  from  you.  He  has  fallen  suddenly, 
without  bending  till  he  broke  ;  as  a  tower  falls,  smitten  by 
sudden  lightning.  His  word  ye  shall  hear  no  more,  his  guid¬ 
ance  follow  no  more.  —  The  multitudes  depart,  heart-struck  ; 
spread  the  sad  tidings.  How  touching  is  the  loyalty  of  men 
to  their  Sovereign  Man!  All  theatres,  public  amusements 
close ;  no  joyful  meeting  can  be  held  in  these  nights,  joy  is 
not  for  them  :  the  People  break  in  upon  private  dancing- 
parties,  and  sullenly  command  that  they  cease.  Of  such  danc¬ 
ing-parties  apparently  but  two  came  to  light ;  and  these  also 
have  gone  out.  The  gloom  is  universal;  never  in  this  City 
was  such  corrow  for  one  death ;  never  since  that  old  night 
when  Louis  XII.  departed,  “  and  the  Crieurs  des  Corps  went 
sonnding  their  bells,  and  crying  along  the  streets :  Le  bon  roi 
Louis ,  pere  du  peuple ,  est  mort ,  The  good  King  Louis,  Father 
of  the  People,  is  dead!”2  King  Mirabeau  is  now  the  lost 
King ;  and  one  may  say  with  little  exaggeration,  all  the  People 
mourns  for  him. 

For  three  days  there  is  low  wide  moan;  weeping  in  the 
National  Assembly  itself.  The  streets  are  all  mournful; 
orators  mounted  on  the  homes ,  with  large  silent  audience, 
preaching  the  funeral  sermon  of  the  dead.  Let  no  coachman 
whip  fast,  distractively  with  his  rolling  wheels,  or  almost  at 

1  Fils  Adoptif,  viii.  450.  Journal  de  la  maladie  et  de  la  mort  de  Mirabeau , 
par  P.  J.  G.  Cabanis  (Paris,  1803). 

2  Henault,  Abregd  Chronologique,  p.  429. 


416  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

all,  through  these  groups  !  His  traces  may  be  cut ;  himself 
and  his  fare,  as  incurable  Aristocrats,  hurled  sulkily  into  the 
kennels.  The  bourne-stone  orators  speak  as  it  is  given  them ; 
the  Sansculottic  People,  with  its  rude  soul,  listens  eager,  — 
as  men  will  to  any  Sermon,  or  Sermo,  when  it  is  a  spoken 
Word  meaning  a  Thing,  and  not  a  Babblement  meaning  No¬ 
thing.  In  the  Restaurateur’s  of  the  Palais-Royal,  the  waiter 
remarks,  “Pine  weather,  Monsieur:”  —  “Yes,  my  friend,” 
answers  the  ancient  Man  of  Letters,  “very  fine ;  but  Mirabeau 
is  dead.”  Hoarse  rhythmic  threnodies  come  also  from  the 
throats  of  ballad-singers ;  are  sold  on  gray- white  paper  at  a 
sou  each.1  But  of  Portraits,  engraved,  painted,  hewn  and 
written ;  of  Eulogies,  Reminiscences,  Biographies,  nay  Vaude¬ 
villes ,  Dramas  and  Melodramas,  in  all  Provinces  of  Prance, 
there  will,  through  these  coming  months,  be  the  due  im¬ 
measurable  crop;  thick  as  the  leaves  of  Spring.  Nor,  that 
a  tincture  of  burlesque  might  be  in  it,  is  Gobel’s  Episcopal 
Mandement  wanting;  goose  Gobel,  who  has  just  been  made 
Constitutional  Bishop  of  Paris.  A  Mandement  wherein  Ca  ira 
alternates  very  strangely  with  Nomine  Domini ;  and  you  are, 
with  a  grave  countenance,  invited  to  “rejoice  at  possessing  in 
the  midst  of  you  a  body  of  Prelates  created  by  Mirabeau,  zeal¬ 
ous  followers  of  his  doctrine,  faithful  imitators  of  his  virtues.” 2 
So  speaks,  and  cackles  manifold,  the  Sorrow  of  Prance ;  wail¬ 
ing  articulately,  inarticulately,  as  it  can,  that  a  Sovereign  Man 
is  snatched  away.  In  the  National  Assembly,  when  difficult 
questions  are  astir,  all  eyes  will  “turn  mechanically  to  the 
place  where  Mirabeau  sat,”  —  and  Mirabeau  is  absent  now. 

On  the  third  evening  of  the  lamentation,  the  fourth  of 
April,  there  is  solemn  Public  Funeral ;  such  as  deceased 
mortal  seldom  had.  Procession  of  a  league  in  length ;  of 
mourners  reckoned  loosely  at  a  hundred  thousand.  All  roofs 
are  thronged  with  on-lookers,  all  windows,  lamp-irons,  branches 
of  trees.  “  Sadness  is  painted  on  every  countenance ;  many 
persons  weep.”  There  is  double  hedge  of  National  Guards  ; 

1  Fils  Adopt if  viii.  1.  10.  Newspapers  and  Excerpts  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix. 
366-402). 

2  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  405. 


417 


Chap.  VII.  DEATH  OF  MIKABEAU. 

April  4. 

there  is  National  Assembly  in  a  body ;  Jacobin  Society,  and 
Societies ;  King’s  Ministers,  Municipals,  and  all  Notabilities, 
Patriot  or  Aristocrat.  Bouille  is  noticeable  there,  “with  his 
hat  on  ;  ”  say,  hat  drawn  over  his  brow,  hiding  many  thoughts  ! 
Slow-wending,  in  religious  silence,  the  Procession  of  a  league 
in  length,  under  the  level  sun-rays,  for  it  is  five  o’clock,  moves 
and  marches:  with  its  sable  plumes;  itself  in  a  religious 
silence ;  but,  by  fits  with  the  muffled  roll  of  drums,  by  fits 
with  some  long-drawn  wail  of  music,  and  strange  new  clangor 
of  trombones,  and  metallic  dirge-voice  ;  amid  the  infinite  hum 
of  men.  In  the  Church  of  Saint-Eustache,  there  is  funeral 
oration  by  Corutti ;  and  discharge  of  fire-arms,  which  “  brings 
down  pieces  of  the  plaster.”  Thence,  forward  again  to  the 
Church  of  Sainte-Genevieve ;  which  has  been  consecrated,  by 
supreme  decree,  on  the  spur  of  this  time,  into  a  Pantheon  for 
the  Great  Men  of  the  Fatherland,  Aux  Grands  Hommes  la 
Patrie  reconnaissante.  Hardly  at  midnight  is  the  business 
done ;  and  Mirabeau  left  in  his  dark  dwelling  :  first  tenant  of 
that  Fatherland’s  Pantheon. 

Tenant,  alas,  who  inhabits  but  at  will,  and  shall  be  cast 
out.  For,  in  these  days  of  convulsion  and  disjection,  not  even 
the  dust  of  the  dead  is  permitted  to  rest.  Voltaire’s  bones 
are,  by  and  by,  to  be  carried  from  their  stolen  grave  in  the 
Abbey,  of  Scellieres,  to  an  eager  stealing  grave,  in  Paris  his 
birth-city :  all  mortals  processioning  and  perorating  there ; 
cars  drawn  by  eight  white  horses,  goadsters  in  classical 
costume,  with  fillets  and  wheat-ears  enough ;  —  though  the 
weather  is  of  the  wettest.1  Evangelist  Jean  Jacques  too,  as 
is  most  proper,  must  be  dug  up  from  Ermenonville,  and  pro¬ 
cessioned,  wdth  pomp,  with  sensibility,  to  the  Pantheon  of 
the  Fatherland.2  He  and  others :  while  again  Mirabeau,  we 
say,  is  cast  forth  from  it,  happily  incapable  of  being  replaced ; 
and  rests  now,  irrecognizable,  reburied  hastily  at  dead  of 
night  “  in  the  central  part  of  the  Churchyard  Sainte-Catherine, 
in  the  Suburb  Saint-Marceau,”  to  be  disturbed  no  farther. 

So  blazes  out,  far-seen,  a  Man’s  Life,  and  becomes  ashes 

1  Moniteur,  du  13  Juillet,  1791. 

2  lb.  du  18  Septembre,  1794.  See  also  du  30  Aout,  &c.  1791. 

vol.  in.  27 


418  THE  TUILERIES.  Book  X. 

1791. 

and  a  caput  mortuum,  in  this  World-Pyre,  which  we  name 
French  Revolution :  not  the  first  that  consumed  itself  there ; 
nor,  by  thousands  and  many  millions,  the  last !  A  man  who 
“  had  swallowed  all  formulas ;  ”  who,  in  these  strange  times 
and  circumstances,  felt  called  to  live  Titanically,  and  also  to 
die  so.  As  he,  for  his  part,  had  swallowed  all  formulas,  what 
Formula  is  there,  never  so  comprehensive,  that  will  express 
truly  the  plus  and  the  minus  of  him,  give  us  the  accurate 
net-result  of  him  ?  There  is  hitherto  none  such.  Moralities 
not  a  few  must  shriek  condemnatory  over  this  Mirabeau ; 
the  Morality  by  which  he  could  be  judged  has  not  yet  got 
uttered  in  the  speech  of  men.  We  will  say  this  of  him  again : 
That  he  is  a  Reality  and  no  Simulacrum;  a  living  Son  of 
Nature  our  general  Mother ;  not  a  hollow  Artifice,  and  mech¬ 
anism  of  Conventionalities,  son  of  nothing,  brother  to  nothing. 
In  which  little  word,  let  the  earnest  man,  walking  sorrowful 
in  a  world  mostly  of  “  Stuffed  Clothes-suits,”  that  chatter  and 
grin  meaningless  on  him,  quite  ghastly  to  the  earnest  soul,  — 
think  what  significance  there  is  ! 

Of  men  who,  in  such  sense,  are  alive,  and  see  with  eyes, 
the  number  is  now  not  great :  it  may  be  well,  if  in  this  huge 
French  Revolution  itself,  with  its  all-developing  fury,  we  find 
some  Three.  Mortals  driven  rabid  we  find;  sputtering  the 
acridest  logic ;  baring  their  breast  to  the  battle-hail,  their 
neck  to  the  guillotine  :  —  of  whom  it  is  so  painful  to  say  that 
they  too  are  still,  in  good  part,  manufactured  Formalities,  not 
Facts  but  Hearsays  ! 

Honor  to  the  strong  man,  in  these  ages,  who  has  shaken 
himself  loose  of  shams,  and  is  something.  For  in  the  way  of 
being  worthy ,  the  first  condition  surely  is  that  one  be.  Let 
Cant  cease,  at  all  risks  and  at  all  costs :  till  Cant  cease,  noth¬ 
ing  else  can  begin.  Of  human  Criminals,  in  these  centuries, 
writes  the  Moralist,  I  find  but  one  unforgivable :  the  Quack. 
“  Hateful  to  God,”  as  divine  Dante  sings,  “and  to  the  Ene¬ 
mies  of  God, 

A  Dio  spiacente  ed  a ’  nemici  sui  !  ” 

But  whoever  will,  with  sympathy,  which  is  the  first  essential 
towards  insight,  look  at  this  questionable  Mirabeau,  may  find 


Chap.  YII.  DEATH  OF  MIEABEAU.  419 

April  4. 

that  there  lay  verily  in  him,  as  the  basis  of  all,  a  Sincerity,  a 
great  free  Earnestness ;  nay  call  it  Honesty,  for  the  man  did 
before  all  things  see,  with  that  clear  flashing  vision,  into  what 
was ,  into  what  existed  as  fact ;  and  did,  with  his  wild  heart, 
follow  that  and  no  other.  Whereby  on  what  ways  soever  he 
travels  and  struggles,  often  enough  falling,  he  is  still  a.  broth¬ 
er  man.  Hate  him  not ;  thou  canst  not  hate  him !  Shining 
through  such  soil  and  tarnish,  and  now  victorious  effulgent, 
and  oftenest  struggling  eclipsed,  the  light  of  genius  itself  is  in 
this  man  ;  which  was  never  yet  base  and  hateful ;  but  at  worst 
was  lamentable,  lovable  with  pity.  They  say  that  he  was  am¬ 
bitious,  that  he  wanted  to  be  Minister.  It  is  most  true.  And 
was  he  not  simply  the  one  man  in  France  who  could  have  done 
any  good  as  Minister?  Not  vanity  alone,  not  pride  alone;  far 
from  that !  Wild  burstings  of  affection  were  in  this  great 
heart ;  of  fierce  lightning,  and  soft  dew  of  pity.  So  sunk 
bemired  in  wretchedest  defacements,  it  may  be  said  of  him, 
like  the  Magdalen  of  old,  that  he  loved  much :  his  Father, 
the  harshest  of  old  crabbed  men,  he  loved  with  warmth,  with 
veneration. 

Be  it  that  his  falls  and  follies  are  manifold,  —  as  himself 
often  lamented  even  with  tears.1  Alas,  is  not  the  Life  of  every 
such  man  already  a  poetic  Tragedy ;  made  up  “  of  Fate  and  of 
one’s  own  Deservings,”  of  Schicksal  und  eigerte  Schuld ;  full 
of  the  elements  of  Pity  and  Fear  ?  This  brother  man,  if  not 
Epic  for  us,  is  Tragic ;  if  not  great,  is  large ;  large  in  his  qual¬ 
ities,  world-large  in  his  destinies.  Whom  other  men,  recog¬ 
nizing  him  as  such,  may,  through  long  times,  remember,  aud 
draw  nigh  to  examine  and  consider :  these,  in  their  several 
dialects,  will  say  of  him  and  sing  of  him,  — till  the  right  thing 
be  said ;  and  so  the  Formula  that  can  judge  him  be  no  longer 
an  undiscovered  one. 

Here  then  the  wild  Gabriel  Honore  drops  from  the  tissue  of 
our  History ;  not  without  a  tragic  farewell.  He  is  gone  :  the 
flower  of  the  wild  Riquetti  or  Arrighetti  kindred ;  which  seems 
as  if  in  him,  with  one  last  effort,  it  had  done  its  best,  and  then 

1  Dumont,  p.  287. 


420  THE  TUILERIES.  *  Book  X. 

1791. 

expired,  or  sunk  down  to  the  undistinguished  level.  Crabbed 
old  Marquis  Mirabeau,  the  Friend  of  Men,  sleeps  sound.  The 
Bailli  Mirabeau,  worthy  Uncle,  will  soon  die  forlorn,  alone. 
Barrel-Mirabeau,  already  gone  across  the  Rhine,  his  Regiment 
of  Emigrants  will  drive  nigh  desperate.  "  Barrel-Mirabeau,” 
says  a  biographer  of  his,  “  went  indignantly  across  the  Rhine, 
and  drilled  Emigrant  Regiments.  But  as  he  sat  one  morning 
in  his  tent,  sour  of  stomach  doubtless  and  of  heart,  meditating 
in  Tartarean  humor  on  the  turn  things  took,  a  certain  Captain 
or  Subaltern  demanded  admittance  on  business.  Such  Captain 
is  refused  ;  he  again  demands,  with  refusal ;  and  then  again ; 
till  Colonel  Viscount  Barrel-Mirabeau,  blazing  up  into  a  mere 
burning  brandy-barrel,  clutches  his  sword,  and  tumbles  out 
on  this  canaille  of  an  intruder,  —  alas,  on  the  canaille  of  an 
intruder’s  sword-point,  who  had  drawn  with  swift  dexterity; 
and  dies,  and  the  Newspapers  name  it  apoplexy  and  alarming 
accident So  die  the  Mirabeaus. 

New  Mirabeaus  one  hears  not  of :  the  wild  kindred,  as  we 
said,  is  gone  out  with  this  its  greatest.  As  families  and  kin¬ 
dreds  sometimes  do;  producing,  after  long  ages  of  unnoted 
notability,  some  living  quintessence  of  all  the  qualities  they 
had,  to  flame  forth  as  a  man  world-noted;  after  whom  they 
rest  as  if  exhausted;  the  sceptre  passing  to  others.  The 
chosen  Last  of  the  Mirabeaus  is  gone ;  the  chosen  man  of 
France  is  gone.  It  was  he  who  shook  old  France  from  its 
basis ;  and,  as  if  with  his  single  hand,  has  held  it  toppling 
there,  still  unfallen.  What  things  depended  on  that  one  man  ! 
He  is  as  a  ship  suddenly  shivered  on  sunk  rocks :  much  swims 
on  the  waste  waters,  far  from  help. 


THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION: 

A  HISTORY 

IN  TWENTY  BOOKS. 

THE  CONSTITUTION. 

( CONTINUED .) 

[1837.] 


VOL.  IV. 


1 


CONTENTS 


THE  CONSTITUTION,  Continued. 


Booft  XI. 

VARENNES. 

Chapter  Page 

I.  Easter  at  Saint-Cloud .  3 

II.  Easter  at  Paris .  7 

III.  Count  Eersen . 10 

IY.  Attitude . 17 

Y.  The  New  Berline . 21 

VI.  Old-Dragoon  Drouet . 25 

VII.  The  Night  op  Spurs . 29 

VIII.  The  Return . 37 

IX.  Sharp  Shot . 41 


Book  XII. 

PARLIAMENT  FIRST. 


L  Grande  Acceptation . 47 

II.  The  Book  of  the  Law . 55 

III.  Avignon . 63 

IV.  No  Sugar . 70 


iv  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  „  Page 

Y.  Kings  and  Emigrants . 74 

YI.  Brigands  and  Jales . 84 

YII.  Constitution  will  not  March . 87 

VIII.  The  Jacobins . 92 

IX.  Minister  Roland . 96 

X.  Petion-National-Pique . 101 

XI.  The  Hereditary  Representative . 103 

XII.  Procession  of  the  Black  Breeches . 107 


Book  XIH. 

THE  MARSEILLESE. 


I.  Executive  that  does  not  Act . 113 

II.  Let  us  March . 120 

III.  Some  Consolation  to  Mankind  .  .  .  . . 122 

IY.  Subterranean . 127 

Y.  At  Dinner . .  .  130 

VI.  The  Steeples  at  Midnight . 134 

YII.  The  Swiss . * . 143 

YIH.  Constitution  burst  in  Pieces  .........  150 


THE  GUILLOTINE. 


iSook  XIY. 

SEPTEMBER. 

I.  The  Improvised  Commune . 156 

II.  D ANTON . 168 

III.  Dumouriez . 172 

IV.  September  in  Paris . 176 


CONTENTS. 


v 


Chapter  Page 

Y.  A  Trilogy . 184 

VI.  The  Circular . 191 

VII.  September  in  Argonne . 201 

VIII.  Exeunt  .  . . 210 

23ooft  XV. 

REGICIDE. 

I.  The  Deliberative  .  . . 218 

II.  The  Executive . 227 

III.  Discrowned . 231 

IY.  The  Loser  pays . 234 

Y.  Stretching  op  Formulas . 237 

YI.  At  the  Bar . .243 

VII.  The  Three  Votings . 251 

VIII.  Place  de  la  Revolution . 257 

2$0oft  XVI. 

THE  GIRONDINS. 

I.  Cause  and  Effect . 264 

II.  CuLOTTIC  AND  SaNSCULOTTIC . 270 

III.  Growing  Shrill . .  2 76 

IY.  Fatherland  in  Danger . 280 

Y.  Sansculottism  Accoutred  , . .  ...  288 

YI.  The  Traitor . 292 

VII.  In  Fight . 296 

VIII.  In  Death-Grips . . . .  .  299 

IX.  Extinct . 305 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Book  XVH. 

TERROR. 

Chapter  Page 

I.  Charlotte  Corday  .  .  . . 311 

II.  In  Civil  War . 319 

III.  Retreat  of  the  Eleven . 323 

IY.  O  Nature!  .  .  , . 327 

Y.  Sword  of  Sharpness . 332 

YI.  Risen  against  Tyrants . 336 

YII.  Marie- Antoinette . 340 

YIII.  The  Twenty-Two . 343 

Book  XVIII. 

TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY. 

I.  Rushing  Down . 347 

II.  Death . 352 

III.  Destruction . 358 

IY.  Carmagnole  Complete . 367 

Y.  Like  a  Thunder-Cloud . 374 

YI.  Do  thy  Duty . 378 

YII.  Elame-Picture . 385 

Book  XIX. 

THERMIDOR. 

I.  The  Gods  are  Athirst . 390 

II.  Danton,  No  Weakness . 396 

III.  The  Tumbrils . 401 


CONTENTS.  .  vii 

Chapter  Page 

IY.  Mumbo- Jumbo . 407 

Y.  The  Prisons . 411 

VI.  To  Finish  the  Terror . 414 

VII.  Go  Down  To . 419 

Book  XX. 

# 

VEND^MIAIRE. 

I.  Decadent . 427 

II.  La  Cabarijs . 431 

III.  Quiberon . 435 

IY.  Lion  Not  Dead . 439 

Y.  Lion  Sprawling  its  Last . 443 

YI.  Grilled  Herrings . 449 

VII.  The  Whiff  of  Grape-Shot . 453 

VIII.  Finis . 459 


v>* 


S 


THE  CONSTITUTION. 

( CONTINUED .) 


BOOK  XI. 

VARENNES. 

— * — 

»  \ 

CHAPTER  I. 

EASTER  AT  SAINT-CLOUD. 

The  French  Monarchy  may  now  therefore  be  considered  as, 
in  all  human  probability,  lost ;  as  struggling  henceforth  in 
blindness  as  well  as  weakness,  the  last  light  of  reasonable 
guidance  having  gone  out.  What  remains  of  resources  their 
poor  Majesties  will  waste  still  further,  in  uncertain  loitering 
and  wavering.  Mirabeau  himself  had  to  complain  that  they 
only  gave  him  half  confidence,  and  always  had  some  plan 
within  h^s  plan.  Had  they  fled  frankly  with  him  to  Rouen 
or  any-whither,  long  ago  !  They  may  fly  now  with  chance 
immeasurably  lessened;  which  will  go  on  lessening  towards 
absolute  zero.  Decide,  0  Queen  ;  poor  Louis  can  decide  noth¬ 
ing  :  execute  this  Flight-project,  or  at  least  abandon  it.  Corre¬ 
spondence  with  Bouille  there  has  been  enough ;  what  profits 
consulting  and  hypothesis,  while  all  around  is  in  fierce  activity 
of  practice  ?  The  Rustic  sits  waiting  till  the  river  run  dry : 
alas,  with  you  it  is  not  a  common  river,  but  a  Nile  Inundation; 
snows  melting  in  the  unseen  mountains ;  till  all,  and  you 
where  you  sit,  be  submerged. 

Many  things  invite  to  flight.  The  voice  of  J ournals  invites  ; 
Royalist  Journals  proudly  hinting  it  as  a  threat,  Patriot  Jour¬ 
nals  rabidly  denouncing  it  as  a  terror.  Mother  Society,  wax- 


4  ’  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

in g  more  and  more  emphatic,  invites  ;  —  so  emphatic  that,  as 
was  prophesied,  Lafayette  and  your  limited  Patriots  have  ere 
long  to  branch  off  from  her,  and  form  themselves  into  Feuil- 
lans ;  with  infinite  public  controversy ;  the  victory  in  which, 
doubtful  though  it  look,  will  remain  with  the  ^limited 
Mother.  Moreover,  ever  since  the  Day  of  Poniards,  we  have 
seen  unlimited  Patriotism  openly  equipping  itself  with  arms. 
Citizens  denied  “  activity,”  which  is  facetiously  made  to  sig¬ 
nify  a  certain  weight  of  purse,  cannot  buy  blue  uniforms,  and 
be  Guardsmen ;  but  man  is  greater  than  blue  cloth ;  man  can 
fight,  if  need  be,  in  multiform  cloth,  or  even  almost  without 
cloth,  —  as  Sansculotte.  So  pikes  continue  to  be  hammered, 
whether  those  Dirks  of  improved  structure  with  barbs  be 
“meant  for  the  West-India  market,”  or  not  meant.  Men 
beat,  the  wrong  way,  their  ploughshares  into  swords.  Is  there 
not  what  we  may  call  an  “  Austrian  Committee,”  Comite  Autri- 
chien ,  sitting  daily  and  nightly  in  the  Tuileries  ?  Patriotism, 
by  vision  and  suspicion,  knows  it  too  well !  If  the  King  fly, 
will  there  not  be  Aristocrat- Austrian  invasion ;  butchery ; 
replacement  of  Feudalism  ;  wars  more  than  civil  ?  The  hearts 
of  men  are  saddened  and  maddened. 

Dissident  Priests  likewise  give  trouble  enough.  Expelled 
from  their  Parish  Churches,  where  Constitutional  Priests, 
elected  by  the  Public,  have  replaced  them,  these  unhappy 
persons  resort  to  Convents  of  Nuns,  or  other  such  receptacles; 
and  there,  on  Sabbath,  collecting  assemblages  of  Anti-Consti¬ 
tutional  individuals,  who  have  grown  devout  all  on  a  sudden,1 
they  worship  or  pretend  to  worship  in  their  strait-laced  con¬ 
tumacious  manner ;  to  the  scandal  of  Patriotism.  Dissident 
Priests,  passing  along  with  their*  sacred  wafer  for  the  dying, 
seem  wishful  to  be  massacred  in  the  streets  ;  wherein  Patriot¬ 
ism  will  not  gratify  them.  Slighter  palm  of  martyrdom, 
however,  shall  not  be  denied :  martyrdom  not  of  massacre,  yet 
of  fustigation.  At  the  refractory  places  of  worship,  Patriot 
men  appear ;  Patriot  women  with  strong  hazel  wands,  which 
they  apply.  Shut  thy  eyes,  0  Reader ;  see  not  this  misery, 
peculiar  to  these  later  times,  —  of  martyrdom  without  sincer- 

1  Toulongeon,  i.  262. 


Chap.  I.  EASTER  AT  SAINT-CLOUD.  5 

April. 

ity,  with,  only  cant  and  contumacy  !  A  dead  Catholic  Church 
is  not  allowed  to  lie  dead;  no,  it  is  galvanized  into  the  detesta- 
blest  death-life ;  whereat  Humanity,  we  say,  shuts  its  eyes. 
For  the  Patriot  women  take  their  hazel  wands,  and  fustigate, 
amid  laughter  of  bystanders,  with  alacrity :  broad  bottom  of 
Priests  ;  alas,  Huns  too,  reversed  and  cotillons  retrousses  !  The 
National  Guard  does  what  it  can:  Municipality  “ invokes 
the  Principles  of  Toleration ;  ”  grants  Dissident  worshippers 
the  Church  of  the  Theatins :  promising  protection.  But  it  is 
to  no  purpose :  at  the  door  of  that  Theatins  Church  appears  a 
Placard,  and  suspended  at5p,  like  Plebeian  Consular  fasces  — 
a  Bundle  of  Rods  !  The  Principles  of  Toleration  must  do  the 
best  they  may  :  but  no  Dissident  man  shall  worship  contuma¬ 
ciously  ;  there  is  a  Plebiscitum  to  that  effect ;  which,  though 
unspoken,  is  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  Dis¬ 
sident  contumacious  Priests  ought  not  to  be  harbored,  even 
in  private,  by  any  man :  the  Club  of  the  Cordeliers  openly 
denounces  Majesty  himself  as  doing  it.1 

Many  things  invite  to  flight :  but  probably  this  thing  above 
all  others,  that  it  has  become  impossible  !  On  the  15th  of 
April,  notice  is  given  that  his  Majesty,  who  has  suffered  much 
from  catarrh  lately,  will  enjoy  the  Spring  weather,  for  a  few 
days,  at  Saint-Cloud.  Out  at  Saint-Cloud  ?  Wishing  to  cele¬ 
brate  his  Easter,  his  P agues  or  Pasch,  there ;  with  refractory 
Anti-Constitutional  Dissidents  ?  —  Wishing  rather  to  make  off 
for  Compiegne,  and  thence  to  the  Frontiers  ?  As  were,  in 
good  sooth,  perhaps  feasible,  or  would  once  have  been ;  noth¬ 
ing  but  some  two  chasseurs  attending  you;  chasseurs  easily 
corrupted !  It  is  a  pleasant  possibility,  execute  it  or  not.  Men 
say  there  are  thirty  thousand  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  lurk¬ 
ing  in  the  woods  there :  lurking  in  the  woods,  and  thirty 
thousand,  —  for  the  human  Imagination  is  not  fettered.  But 
now,  how  easily  might  these,  dashing  out  on  Lafayette,  snatch 
off  the  Hereditary  Representative ;  and  roll  away  with  him, 
after  the  manner  of  a  whirlblast,  whither  they  listed !  — 
Enough,  it  were  well  the  King  did  not  go.  Lafayette  is  fore¬ 
warned  and  forearmed  :  but,  indeed,  is  the  risk  his  only ;  or  his 
and  all  France’s  ? 

1  Newspapers  of  April  and  June,  1791  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  449  ;  x.  217). 


6  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

Monday  the  eighteenth  of  April  is  come;  the  Easter  Jour¬ 
ney  to  Saint-Cloud  shall  take  effect.  National  Guard  has  got 
its  orders;  a  First  Division,  as  Advanced  Guard,  has  even 
marched,  and  probably  arrived.  His  Majesty’s  Maison-bouche , 
they  say,  is  all  busy  stewing  and  frying  at  Saint-Cloud ;  the 
King’s  dinner  not  far  from  ready  there.  About  one  o’clock, 
the  Royal  Carriage,  with  its  eight  royal  blacks,  shoots  stately 
into  the  Place  du  Carrousel;  draws  up  to  receive  its  royal 
burden.  But  hark !  from  the  neighboring  Church  of  Saint- 
Roch,  the  tocsin  begins  ding-dong-ing.  Is  the  King  stolen, 
then;  is  he  going;  gone?  Multitudes  of  persons  crowd  the 
Carrousel :  the  Royal  Carriage  still  stands  there ;  —  and,  by 
Heaven’s  strength,  shall  stand ! 

Lafayette  comes  up,  with  aides-de-camp  and  oratory;  per¬ 
vading  the  groups  :  “  Taisez-vous ,”  answer  the  groups ;  “  the 
King  shall  not  go.”  Monsieur  appears,  at  an  upper  window : 
ten  thousand  voices  bray  and  shriek,  “ Nous  ne  voulons  pas  que 
le  Roi  parte.”  Their  Majesties  have  mounted.  Crack  go  the 
whips ;  but  twenty  Patriot  arms  have  seized  each  of  the  eight 
bridles  :  there  is  rearing,  rocking,  vociferation ;  not  the  small¬ 
est  headway.  In  vain  does  Lafayette  fret,  indignant ;  and 
perorate  and  strive  :  Patriots  in  the  passion  of  terror  bellow 
round  the  Royal  Carriage  ;  it  is  one  bellowing  sea  of  Patriot 
terror  run  frantic.  Will  Royalty  fly  off  towards  Austria  ;  like 
a  lit  rocket,  toward  endless  Conflagration  of  Civil  War  ?  Stop 
it,  ye  Patriots,  in  the  name  of  Heaven  !  Rude  voices  passion¬ 
ately  apostrophize  Royalty  itself.  Usher  Campan,  and  other 
the  like  official  persons,  pressing  forward  with  help  or  advice, 
are  clutched  by  the  sashes,  and  hurled  and  whirled,  in  a  con¬ 
fused  perilous  manner ;  so  that  her  Majesty  has  to  plead  pas¬ 
sionately  from  the  carriage-window. 

Order  cannot  be  heard,  cannot  be  followed ;  National  Guards 
know  not  how  to  act.  Centre  Grenadiers,  of  the  Observatoire 
Battalion,  are  there ;  not  on  duty  ;  alas,  in  quasi-mutiny ;  speak¬ 
ing  rude  disobedient  words  ;  threatening  the  mounted  Guards 
with  sharp  shot  if  they  hurt  the  people.  Lafayette  mounts 
and  dismounts  ;  runs  haranguing,  panting ;  on  the  verge  of 
despair.  For  an  hour  and  three  quarters  ;  “  seven  quarters  of 


Chap.  II.  EASTER  AT  PARIS.  7 

May  4. 

an  hour,”  by  the  Tuileries  Clock !  Desperate  Lafayette  will 
open  a  passage,  were  it  by  the  cannon’s  mouth,  if  his  Majesty 
will  order.  Their  Majesties,  counselled  to  it  by  Royalist 
friends,  by  Patriot  foes,  dismount ;  and  retire  in,  with  heavy 
indignant  heart ;  giving  up  the  enterprise.  Maison-bouche  may 
eat  that  cooked  dinner  themselves :  his  Majesty  shall  not  see 
Saint-Cloud  this  day,  —  nor  any  day.1 

^he  pathetic  fable  of  imprisonment  in  one’s  own  Palace  has 
become  a  sad  fact,  then  ?  Majesty  complains  to  Assembly ; 
Municipality  deliberates,  proposes  to  petition  or  address ; 
Sections  respond  with  sullen  brevity  of  negation.  Lafayette 
flings  down  his  Commission ;  appears  in  civic  pepper-and-salt 
frock;  and  cannot  be  flattered  back  again;  not  in  less  than 
three  days ;  and  by  unheard-of  entreaty ;  National  Guards 
kneeling  to  him,  and  declaring  that  it  is  not  sycophancy,  that 
they  are  free  men  kneeling  here  to  the  Statue  of  Liberty .  For 
the  rest,  those  Centre  Grenadiers  of  the  Observatoire  are  dis¬ 
banded,  —  yet  indeed  are  re-enlisted,  all  but  fourteen,  under  a 
new  name,  and  with  new  quarters.  The  King  must  keep  his 
Easter  in  Paris  ;  meditating  much  on  this  singular  posture  of 
things ;  but  as  good  as  determined  now  to  fly  from  it,  desire 
being  whetted  by  difficulty. 


- » 

CHAPTER  II. 

EASTER  AT  PARIS. 

For  above  a  year,  ever  since  March,  1790,  it  would  seem, 
there  has  hovered  a  project  of  Flight  before  the  royal  mind ; 
and  ever  and  anon  has  been  condensing  itself  into  something 
like  a  purpose ;  but  this  or  the  other  difficulty  always  vapor¬ 
ized  it  again.  It  seems  so  full  of  risks,  perhaps  of  civil  war 
itself  ;  above  all,  it  cannot  be  done  without  effort.  Somnolent 
laziness  will  not  serve :  to  fly,  if  not  in  a  leather  vache ,  one 
must  verily  stir  oneself.  Better  to  adopt  that  Constitution  of 
theirs  ;  execute  it  so  as  to  show  all  men  that  it  is  ^wexecutable  ? 

1  Deux  Amis ,  vi.  c.  1.  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  407-414. 


8  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

Better  or  not  so  good :  surely  it  is  easier.  To  all  difficulties 
you  need  only  say,  There  is  a  lion  in  the  path,  behold  your 
Constitution  will  not  act !  For  a  somnolent  person  it  requires 
no  effort  to  counterfeit  death,  —  as  Dame  de  Stael  and  Friends 
of  Liberty  can  see  the  King’s  Government  long  doing,  faisant 
la  mort. 

Nay  now,  when  desire  whetted  by  difficulty  has  brought  the 
matter  to  a  head,  and  the  royal  mind  no  longer  halts  between 
two,  what  can  come  of  it  ?  Grant  that  poor  Louis  were  safe 
with  Bouille,  what,  on  the  whole,  could  he  look  for  there  ?  Ex¬ 
asperated  Tickets  of  Entry  answer :  Much,  all.  But  cold  Rea¬ 
son  answers  :  Little,  almost  nothing.  Is  not  loyalty  a  law  of 
Nature  ?  ask  the  Tickets  of  Entry.  Is  not  love  of  your  King, 
and  even  death  for  him,  the  glory  of  all  Frenchmen,  —  except 
these  few  Democrats  ?  Let  Democrat  Constitution-builders 
see  what  they  will  do  without  their  Keystone;  and  France 
rend  its  hair,  having  lost  the  Hereditary  Representative ! 

Thus  will  King  Louis  fly ;  one  sees  not  reasonably  towards 
what.  As  a  maltreated  Boy,  shall  we  say,  who,  having  a  Step¬ 
mother,  rushes  sulky  into  the  wide  world ;  and  will  wring  the 
paternal  heart  ?  —  Poor  Louis  escapes  from  known  unsup- 
portable  evils,  to  an  unknown  mixture  of  good  and  evil,  colored 
by  Hope.  He  goes,  as  Rabelais  did  when  dying,  to  seek  a 
great  May-be :  je  vais  chercher  un  grand  Peut-etre!  As  not 
only  the  sulky  Boy  but  the  wise  grown  Man  is  obliged  to  do, 
so  often,  in  emergencies. 

For  the  rest,  there  is  still  no  lack  of  stimulants,  and  step- 
dame  maltreatments,  to  keep  one’s  resolution  at  the  due  pitch. 
Factious  disturbances  cease  not:  as  indeed  how  can  they, 
unless  authoritatively  conjured ,  in  a  Revolt  which  is  by  nature 
bottomless  ?  If  the  ceasing  of  faction  be  the  price  of  the 
King’s  somnolence,  he  may  awake  when  he  will  and  take  wing. 

Remark,  in  any  case,  what  somersets  and  contortions  a  dead 
Catholicism  is  making,  —  skilfully  galvanized :  hideous,  and 
even  piteous,  to  behold!  Jurant  and  Dissident,  with  their 
shaved  crowns,  argue  frothing  everywhere ;  or  are  ceasing  to 
argue,  and  stripping  for  battle.  In  Paris  was  scourging  while 
need  continued:  contrariwise,  in  the  Morbihan  of  Brittany, 


EASTER  AT  PARIS. 


9 


Chap.  II. 

May  4. 

without  scourging,  armed  Peasants  are  up,  roused  by  pulpit- 
drum,  they  know  not  why.  General  Dumouriez,  who  has  got 
missioned  thitherward,  finds  all  in  sour  heat  of  darkness  ; 
finds  also  that  explanation  and  conciliation  will  still  do  much.1 

But  again,  consider  this  :  that  his  Holiness,  Pius  Sixth,  has 
seen  good  to  excommunicate  Bishop  Talleyrand !  Surely,  we 
will  say  then,  considering  it,  there  is  no  living  or  dead  Church 
in  the  Earth  that  has  not  the  indubitablest  right  to  excom¬ 
municate  Talleyrand.  Pope  Pius  has  right  and  might,  in 
his  way.  But  truly  so  likewise  has  Eather  Adam,  ci-devant 
Marquis  Saint-Huruge,  in  his  way.  Behold,  therefore,  on  the 
Fourth  of  May,  in  the  Palais  Royal,  a  mixed  loud-sounding 
multitude ;  in  the  middle  of  whom,  Father  Adam,  bull-voiced 
Saint-Huruge,  in  white  hat,  towers  visible  and  audible.  With 
him,  it  is  said,  walks  Journalist  Gorsas,  walk  many  others  of 
the  washed  sort ;  for  no  authority  will  interfere.  Pius  Sixth, 
with  his  plush  and  tiara,  and  power  of  the  Keys,  they  bear 
aloft :  of  natural  size,  —  made  of  lath  and  combustible  gum. 
Royou,  the  King’s  Friend,  is  borne  too  in  effigy ;  with  a  pile 
of  Newspaper  King’s-Friends,  condemned  Numbers  of  the 
Ami-du-Roi ;  fit  fuel  of  the  sacrifice.  Speeches  are  spoken ;  a 
judgment  is  held,  a  doom  proclaimed,  audible  in  bull-voice, 
towards  the  four  winds.  And  thus,  amid  great  shouting,  the 
holocaust  is  consummated,  under  the  summer  sky ;  and  our 
lath-and-gam  Holiness,  with  the  attendant  victims,  mounts  up 
in  flame,  and  sinks  down  in  ashes  ;  a  decomposed  Pope  :  and 
right  or  might,  among  all  the  parties,  has  better  or  worse  ac¬ 
complished  itself,  as  it  could.2  But,  on  the  whole,  reckoning 
from  Martin  Luther  in  the  Market-place  of  Wittenberg  to 
Marquis  Saint-Huruge  in  this  Palais  Royal  of  Paris,  what  a 
journey  have  we  gone ;  into  what  strange  territories  has  it 
carried  us  !  No  Authority  can  now  interfere.  Nay  Religion 
herself,  mourning  for  such  things,  may  after  all  ask,  What 
have  I  to  do  with  them  ? 

In  such  extraordinary  manner  does  dead  Catholicism  somer¬ 
set  and  caper,  skilfully  galvanized.  For,  does  the  reader 

1  Deux  Amis,  v.  410-421.  Dumouriez,  ii.  c.  5. 

2  Hist.  Pari.  x.  99-102. 


10 


VARENNES. 


Book  XI. 
1791. 


inquire  into  the  subject-matter  of  controversy  in  this  case; 
what  the  difference  between  Orthodoxy  or  My-doxy  and  Het¬ 
erodoxy  or  Thy-doxy  might  here  be?  My-doxy  is  that  an 
august  National  Assembly  can  equalize  the  extent  of  Bishop¬ 
rics  ;  that  an  equalized  Bishop,  his  Creed  and  Formularies 
being  left  quite  as  they  were,  can  swear  Fidelity  to  King,  Law 
and  Nation,  and  so  become  a  Constitutional  Bishop.  Thy- 
doxy,  if  thou  be  Dissident,  is  that  he  cannot ;  but  that  he 
must  become  an  accursed  thing.  Human  ill-nature  needs  but 
some  Homoiousian  iota ,  or  even  the  pretence  of  one ;  and  will 
flow  copiously  through  the  eye  of  a  needle :  thus  always  must 
mortals  go  jargoning  and  fuming, 


And,  like  the  ancient  Stoics  in  their  porches, 
With  fierce  dispute  maintain  their  churches. 


This  Auto-da-fe  of  Saint-Huruge’s  was  on  the  Fourth  of  May, 
1791.  Royalty  sees  it;  but  says  nothing. 


♦ 


CHAPTER  III. 

COUNT  FEKSEN. 

Royalty,  in  fact,  should,  by  this  time,  be  far  on  with  its 
preparations.  Unhappily  much  preparation  is  needful.  Could 
a  Hereditary  Representative  be  carried  in  leather  vache ,  how 
easy  were  it !  But  it  is  not  so. 

New  Clothes  are  needed ;  as  usual,  in  all  Epic  transactions, 
were  it  in  the  grimmest  iron  ages ;  consider  “  Queen  Chrim- 
hilde,  with  her  sixty  sempstresses,”  in  that  iron  Nibelungen 
Song!  No  Queen  can  stir  without  new  clothes.  Therefore, 
now,  Dame  Campan  whisks  assiduous  to  this  mantua-maker 
and  to  that :  and  there  is  clipping  of  frocks  and  gowns,  upper 
clothes  and  under,  great  and  small ;  such  a  clipping  and  sew¬ 
ing  as  —  might  have  been  dispensed  with.  Moreover,  her 
Majesty  cannot  go  a  step  any-whither  without  her  Necessaire  ; 
dear  Necessaire ,  of  inlaid  ivory  and  rosewood ;  cunningly  de¬ 
vised  ;  which  holds  perfumes,  toilette-implements,  infinite 


Chap.  III.  _  COUNT  FERSEN.  11 

May-J  une. 

small  queenlike  furnitures  :  necessary  to  terrestrial  life.  Not 
without  a  cost  of  some  five  hundred  louis,  of  much  precious 
time,  and  difficult  hoodwinking  which  does  not  blind,  can  this 
same  Necessary  of  life  be  forwarded  by  the  Flanders  Carriers, 

—  never  to  get  to  hand.1  All  which,  you  would  say,  augurs 
ill  for  the  prospering  of  the  enterprise.  But  the  whims  of 
women  and  queens  must  be  humored. 

Bouille,  on  his  side,  is  making  a  fortified  Camp  at  Mont- 
medi ;  gathering  Royal- Allemand,  and  all  manner  of  other 
German  and  true  French  Troops  thither,  “  to  watch  the  Aus¬ 
trians.”  His  Majesty  will  not  cross  the  frontiers,  unless  on 
compulsion.  Neither  shall  the  Emigrants  be  much  employed, 
hateful  as  they  are  to  all  people.2  Nor  shall  old  war-god 
Broglie  have  any  hand  in  the  business ;  but  solely  our  brave 
Bouille  ;  to  whom,  on  the  day  of  meeting,  a  Marshal’s  Boton 
shall  be  delivered,  by  a  rescued  King,  amid  the  shouting  of 
all  the  troops.  In  the  mean  while,  Paris  being  so  suspicious, 
were  it  not  perhaps  good  to  write  your  Foreign  Ambassadors 
an  ostensible  Constitutional  Letter;  desiring  all  Kings  and 
men  to  take  heed  that  King  Louis  loves  the  Constitution,  that 
he  has  voluntarily  sworn,  and  does  again  swear,  to  maintain 
the  same,  and  will  reckon  those  his  enemies  who  affect  to  say 
otherwise  ?  Such  a  Constitutional  Circular  is  despatched  by 
Couriers,  is  communicated  confidentially  to  the  Assembly,  and 
printed  in  all  Newspapers  ;  with  the  finest  effect.3  Simula¬ 
tion  and  dissimulation  mingle  extensively  in  human  affairs. 

We  observe,  however,  that  Count  Fersen  is  often  using  his 
Ticket  of  Entry ;  which  surely  he  has  clear  right  to  do. 
A  gallant  Soldier  and  Swede,  devoted  to  this  fair  Queen ;  — 
as  indeed  the  Highest  Swede  now  is.  Has  not  King  Gustav, 
famed  fiery  Chevalier  du  Nord,  sworn  himself,  by  the  old  laws 
of  chivalry,  her  Knight  ?  He  will  descend  on  fire-wings,  of 
Swedish  musketry,  and  deliver  her  from  these  foul  dragons, 

—  if,  alas,  the  assassin’s  pistol  intervene  not ! 

But,  in  fact,  Count  Fersen  does  seem  a  likely  young  soldier, 

1  Campan,  ii.  c  18.  2  Bouille,  Me'moires,  ii.  c.  10. 

3  Moniteur,  Seance  du  23  Avril,  1791. 


12  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

of  alert  decisive  ways  :  he  circulates  widely,  seen,  unseen ; 
and  has  business  on  hand.  Also  Colonel  the  Duke  de  Choiseul, 
nephew  of  Choiseul  the  great,  of  Choiseul  the  now  deceased ; 
he  and  Engineer  Goguelat  are  passing  and  repassing  between 
Metz  and  the  Tuileries  :  and  Letters  go  in  cipher,  —  one  of 
them,  a  most  important  one,  hard  to  decipher ;  Fersen  having 
ciphered  it  in  haste.1  As  for  Duke  de  Villequier,  he  is  gone 
ever  since  the  Day  of  Poniards ;  but  his  Apartment  is  useful 
for  her  Majesty. 

On  the  other  side,  poor  Commandant  -Gouvion,  watching 
at  the  Tuileries,  second  in  National  command,  sees  several 
things  hard  to  interpret.  It  is  the  same  Gouvion  who  sat, 
long  months  ago,  at  the  Town-hall,  gazing  helpless  into  that 
Insurrection  of  Women;  motionless,  as  the  brave  stabled 
steed  when  conflagration  rises,  till  Usher  Maillard  snatched 
his  drum.  Sincerer  Patriot  there  is  not ;  but  many  a  shiftier. 
He,  if  Dame  Campan  gossip  credibly,  is  paying  some  simili¬ 
tude  of  love-court  to  a  certain  false  Chambermaid  of  the  Pal¬ 
ace,  who  betrays  much  to  him :  the  Necessaire,  the  clothes, 
the  packing  of  jewels,2  —  could  he  understand  it  when  be¬ 
trayed.  Helpless  Gouvion  gazes  with  sincere  glassy  eyes  into 
it ;  stirs  up  his  sentries  to  vigilance ;  walks  restless  to  and 
fro  ;  and  hopes  the  best. 

But,  on  the  whole,  one  finds  that,  in  the  second  week  of 
June,  Colonel  de  Choiseul  is  privately  in  Paris  ;  having  come 
“to  see  his  children.”  Also  that  Fersen  has  got  a  stupen¬ 
dous  new  Coach  built,  of  the  kind  named  Berime  ;  done  by 
the  first  artists ;  according  to  a  model :  they  bring  it  home 
to  him,  in  Choiseul’s  presence ;  the  two  friends  take  a  proof- 
drive  in  it,  along  the  streets ;  in  meditative  mood ;  then  send 
it  up  to  “  Madame  Sullivan’s,  in  the  Rue  de  Clichy,”  far  North, 
to  wait  there  till  wanted.  Apparently  a  certain  Russian 
Baroness  de  Korff,  with  Waiting- woman,  Valet,  and  two 
Children,  will  travel  homewards  with  some  state :  in  whom 
these  young  military  gentlemen  take  interest  ?  A  Passport 
has  been  procured  for  her ;  and  much  assistance  shown,  with 

1  Choiseul,  Relation  de  Depart  de  Louis  XVI.  (Paris,  1822),  p.  39. 

2  Campan,  ii.  141. 


Chap.  III.  COUNT  FEIiSEN.  13 

June  20-21. 

Coacli-builders  and  such  like  ;  —  so  helpful-polite  are  young 
military  men.  Fersen  has  likewise  purchased  a  Chaise  fit  for 
two,  at  least  for  two  waiting-maids ;  further,  certain  necessary 
horses  :  one  would  say,  he  is  himself  quitting  France,  not 
without  outlay  ?  We  observe  finally  that  their  Majesties, 
Heaven  willing,  will  assist  at  Corpus-Christi  Day ,  this  blessed 
Summer  Solstice,  in  Assumption  Church,  here  at  Paris,  to  the 
joy  of  all  the  world.  For  which  same  day,  moreover,  brave 
Bouille,  at  Metz,  as  we  find,  has  invited  a  party  of  friends  to 
dinner ;  but  indeed  is  gone  from  home,  in  the  interim,  over 
to  MontmMi. 

These  are  of  the  Phenomena,  or  visual  Appearances,  of  this 
wide-working  terrestrial  world  :  which  truly  is  all  phenomenal, 
what  they  call  spectral ;  and  never  rests  at  any  moment ;  one 
never  at  any  moment  can  know  why. 

On  Monday  night,  the  Twentieth  of  June,  1791,  about  eleven 
o’clock,  there  is  many  a  hackney-coach,  and  glass-coach  (car- 
rosse  de  remise ),  still  rumbling,  or  at  rest,  on  the  streets  of 
Paris.  But  of  all  glass-coaches,  we  recommend  this  to  thee, 
0  Header,  which  stands  drawn  up  in  the  Rue  de  l’Echelle, 
hard  by  the  Carrousel  and  outgate  of  the  Tuileries  ;  in  the 
Rue  de  l’Echelle  that  then  was  ;  “  opposite  Ronsin  the  Sad¬ 
dler’s  door,”  as  if  waiting  for  a  fare  there  !  Not  long  does  it 
wait :  a  hooded  Dame,  with  two  hooded  Children  has  issued 
from  Villequier’s  door,  where  no  sentry  walks,  into  the  Tuile¬ 
ries  Court-of-Princes  ;  into  the  Carrousel ;  into  the  Rue  de 
l’Echelle ;  where  the  Glass-coachman  readily  admits  them ; 
and  again  waits.  Not  long ;  another  Dame,  likewise  hooded 
or  shrouded,  leaning  on  a  servant,  issues  in  the  same  manner  ; 
bids  the  servant  good-night ;  and  is,  in  the  same  manner,  by 
the  Glass-coachman,  cheerfully  admitted.  Whither  go  so  many 
Dames  ?  ’T  is  his  Majesty’s  Couchee ,  Majesty  just  gone  to 
bed,  and  all  the  Palace-world  is  retiring  home.  But  the  Glass- 
coachman  still  waits  ;  his  fare  seemingly  incomplete. 

By  and  by,  we  note  a  thick-set  Individual,  in  round  hat 
and  peruke,  arm-and-arm  with  some  servant,  seemingly  of  the 
Runner  or  Courier  sort;  he  also  issues  through  Villequier’s 


14  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

179L 

door ;  starts  a  shoe-buckle  as  he  passes  one  of  the  sentries, 
stoops  down  to  clasp  it  again  5  is  however,  by  the  Glass- 
coachman,  still  more  cheerfully  admitted.  And  now,  is  his 
fare  complete?  Not  yet;  the  Glass-coachman  still  waits. — 
Alas !  and  the  false  Chambermaid  has  warned  Gouvion  that 
she  thinks  the  Royal  Family  will  fly  this  very  night ;  and 
Gouvion,  distrusting  his  own  glazed  eyes,  has  sent  express 
for  Lafayette ;  and  Lafayette’s  Carriage,  flaring  with  lights, 
rolls  this  moment  through  the  inner  Arch  of  the  Carrousel, — 
where  a  Lady  shaded  in  broad  gypsy-hat,  and  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  a  servant,  also  of  the  Runner  or  Courier  sort,  stands 
aside  to  let  it  pass,  and  has  even  the  whim  to  touch  a  spoke 
of  it  with  her  badine,  —  light  little  magic  rod  which  she  calls 
badine,  such  as  the  Beautiful  then  wore.  The  flare  of  Lafay¬ 
ette’s  Carriage  rolls  past :  all  is  found  quiet  in  the  Court-of- 
Princes ;  sentries  at  their  post ;  Majesties’  Apartments  closed 
in  smooth  rest.  Your  false  Chambermaid  must  have  been 
mistaken  ?•  Watch  thou,  Gouvion,  with  Argus’  vigilance;  for, 
of  a  truth,  treachery  is  within  these  walls. 

But  where  is  the  Lady  that  stood  aside  in  gypsy-hat,  and 
touched  the  wheelspoke  with  her  badine  ?  0  Reader,  that 

Lady  that  touched  the  wheelspoke  was  the  Queen  of  France ! 
She  has  issued  safe  through  that  inner  Arch,  into  the  Carrousel 
itself;  but  not  into  the  Rue  de  l’Echelle.  Flurried  by  the 
rattle  and  rencounter,  she  took  the  right  hand  not  the  left; 
neither  she  nor  her  Courier  knows  Paris  ;  he  indeed  is  no 
Courier,  but  a  loyal  stupid  ci-devant  Body-guard  disguised  as 
one.  They  are  off,  quite  wrong,  over  the  Pont  Royal  and 
River ;  roaming  disconsolate  in  the  Rue  du  Bac ;  far  from  the 
Glass-coachman,  who  still  waits.  Waits,  with  flutter  of  heart ; 
with  thoughts  —  which  he  must  button  close  up,  under  his 
jarvie-surtout ! 

Midnight  clangs  from  all  the  City-steeples  ;  one  precious 
hour  has  been  spent  so ;  most  mortals  are  asleep.  The  Glass- 
coachman  waits  ;  and  in  what  mood !  A  brother  jarvie  drives 
up,  enters  into  conversation ;  is  answered  cheerfully  in  jarvie- 
dialect :  the  brothers  of  the  whip  exchange  a  pinch  of  snuff ; 1 

1  Weber,  ii.  340-342 ;  Choiseul,  pp.  44-56. 


Chap.  III.  COUNT  FERSEN.  15 

June  20-21. 

decline  drinking  together ;  and  part  with  good-night.  Be  the 
Heavens  blest !  here  at  length  is  the  Queen-lady,  in  gypsy-hat ; 
safe  after  perils ;  who  has  had  to  inquire  her  way.  She  too  is 
admitted ;  her  Courier  jumps  aloft,  as  the  other,  who  is  also  a 
disguised  Body-guard,  has  done  :  and  now,  0  Glass-coachman  of 
a  thousand,  —  Count  Fersen,  for  the  Reader  sees  it  is  thou,  — 
drive  ! 

Dust  shall  not  stick  to  the  hoofs  of  Fersen :  crack !  crack ! 
the  Glass-coach  rattles,  and  every  soul  breathes  lighter.  But 
is  Fersen  on  the  right  road?  Northeastward,  to  the  Barrier 
of  Saint-Martin  and  Metz  Highway,  thither  were  we  bound : 
and  lo,  he  drives  right  Northward  !  The  royal  Individual,  in 
round  hat  and  peruke,  sits  astonished ;  but  right  or  wrong, 
there  is  no  remedy.  Crack,  crack,  we  go  incessant,  through 
the  slumbering  City.  Seldom,  since  Paris  rose  out  of  mud,  or 
the  Long-haired  Kings  went  in  Bullock-carts,  was  there  such 
a  drive.  Mortals  on  each  hand  of  you,  close  by,  stretched  out 
horizontal,  dormant;  and  we  alive  and  quaking!  Crack,  crack, 
through  the  Rue  de  Grammdnt ;  across  the  Boulevard ;  up 
the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d’Antin,  —  these  windows,  all  silent, 
of  Number  42,  were  Mirabeau’s.  Towards  the  Barrier  not  of 
Saint-Martin,  but  of  Clichy  on  the  utmost  North!  Patience, 
ye  royal  Individuals ;  Fersen  understands  what  he  is  about. 
Passing  up  the  Rue  de  Clichy,  he  alights  for  one  moment 
at  Madame  Sullivan’s :  “  Did  Count  Fersen’s  Coachman  get 
the  Baroness  de  Korff’s  new  Berline  ?  ”  —  “  Gone  with  it  an 
hour-and-half  ago,”  grumbles  responsive  the  drowsy  Porter.  — 
“  C’est  bieu.”  Yes,  it  is  well ;  —  though  had  not  such  hour-and- 
half  been  lost ,  it  were  still  better.  Forth  therefore,.  0  Fersen, 
fast,  by  the  Barrier  de  Clichy  ;  then  Eastward  along  the  Outer 
Boulevard,  what  horses  and  whipcord  can  do ! 

Thus  Fersen  drives,  through  the  ambrosial  night.  Sleeping 
Paris  is  now  all  on  the  right-hand  of  him ;  silent  except  for 
some  snoring  hum :  and  now  he  is  Eastward  as  far  as  the 
Barrier  de  Saint-Martin ;  looking  earnestly  for  Baroness  de 
Korff’s  Berline.  This  Heaven’s  Berline  he  at  length  does 
descry,  drawn  up  with  its  six  horses,  his  own  German  Coach¬ 
man  waiting  on  the  box.  Right,  thou  good  German :  now 


16  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

haste,  whither  thou  knowest !  —  And  as  for  us  of  the  Glass- 
coach,  haste  too,  oh  haste ;  much  time  is  already  lost !  The 
august  Glass-coach  fare,  six  Insides,  hastily  packs  itself  into 
the  new  Berline ;  two  Body-guard  Couriers  behind.  The  Glass- 
coach  itself  is  turned  adrift,  its  head  towards  the  City;  to 
wander  whither  it  lists,  —  and  be  found  next  morning  tum¬ 
bled  in  a  ditch.  But  Fersen  is  on  the  new  box,  with  its  brave 
new  hammer-cloths  ;  flourishing  his  whip ;  he  bolts  forward 
towards  Bondy.  There  a  third  and  final  Body-guard  Courier 
of  ours  ought  surely  to  be,  with  post-horses  ready-ordered. 
There  likewise  ought  that  purchased  Chaise,  with  the  two 
Waiting-maids  and  their  bandboxes,  to  be;  whom  also  her 
Majesty  could  not  travel  without.  Swift,  thou  deft  Fersen, 
and  may  the  Heavens  turn  it  well ! 

Once  more,  by  Heaven’s  blessing,  it  is  all  well.  Here  is 
the  sleeping  Hamlet  of  Bondy ;  Chaise  with  Waiting-women ; 
horses  all  ready,  and  postilions  with  their  churn-boots,  im¬ 
patient  in  the  dewy  dawn.  Brief  harnessing  done,  the  pos¬ 
tilions  with  their  churn-boots  v&ult  into  the  saddles ;  brandish 
circularly  their  little  noisy  whips.  Fersen,  under  his  jarvie- 
surtout,  bends  in  lowly  silent  reverence  of  adieu ;  royal  hands 
wave  speechless  inexpressible  response;  Baroness  de  Korff’s 
Berline,  with  the  Royalty  of  France,  bounds  off :  forever,  as 
it  proved.  Deft  Fersen  dashes  obliquely  Northward,  through 
the  country,  towards  Bougret ;  gains  Bougret,  finds  his  German 
Coachman  and  chariot  waiting  there  ;  cracks  off,  and  drives 
undiscovered  into  unknown  space.  A  deft  active  man,  we  say ; 
what  he  undertook  to  do  is  nimbly  and  successfully  done. 

And  so  the  Royalty  of  France  is  actually  fled  ?  This 
precious  night,  the  shortest  of  the  year,  it  flies,  and  drives ! 
Baroness  de  Korjf  is,  at  bottom,  Dame  de  Tourzel,  Governess 
of  the  Royal  Children :  she  who  came  hooded  with  the  two 
hooded  little  ones ;  little  Dauphin ;  little  Madame  Royale, 
known  long  afterwards  as  Duchesse  d’Angouleme.  Baroness 
de  Korff’s  Waiting-maid  is  the  Queen  in  gypsy-hat.  The 
royal  Individual  in  round  hat  and  peruke,  he  is  Valet  for  the 
time  being.  That  other  hooded  Dame,  styled  Travelling- 


Chap.  IV.  ATTITUDE.  17 

June  21. 

companion ,  is  kind  Sister  Elizabeth;  she  had  sworn,  long 
since,  when  the  Insurrection  of  Women  was,  that  only  death 
should  part  her  and  them.  And  so  they  rush  there,  not  too 
impetuously,  through  the  Wood  of  Bondy: — over  a  Bubicon 
in  their  own  and  France’s  History. 

Great ;  though  the  future  is  all  vague !  If  we  reach 
Bouill6  ?  If  we  do  not  reach  him  ?  0  Louis !  and  this  all 

round  thee  is  the  great  slumbering  Earth  (and  overhead,  the 
great  watchful  Heaven)  ;  the  slumbering  Wood  of  Bondy,  — 
where  Long-haired  Childeric  Donothing  was  struck  through 
with  iron ; 1  not  unreasonably,  in  a  world  like  ours.  These 
peaked  stone-towers  are  Baincy ;  towers  of  wicked  D’Orleans. 
All  slumbers  save  the  multiplex  rustle  of  our  new  Berline. 
Loose-skirted  scarecrow  of  an  Herb-merchant,  with  his  ass 
and  early  greens,  toilsomely  plodding,  seems  the  only  creature 
we  meet.  But  right  ahead  the  great  Northeast  sends  up  ever¬ 
more  his  gray  brindled  dawn :  from  dewy  branch,  birds  here 
and  there,  with  short  deep  warble,  salute  the  coming  Sun. 
Stars  fade  out,  and  Galaxies ;  Street-lamps  of  the  City  of 
God.  The  Universe,  0  my  brothers,  is  flinging  wide  its  por¬ 
tals  for  the  Levee  of  the  Great  High  King.  Thou,  poor 
King  Louis,  farest  nevertheless,  as  mortals  do,  towards  Orient 
lands  of  Hope ;  and  the  Tuileries  with  its  Levees,  and  France 
and  the  Earth  itself,  is  but  a  larger  kind  of  dog-hutch,  —  occa¬ 
sionally  going  rabid. 

—  ♦ 

CHAPTEB  IV. 

ATTITUDE. 

But  in  Paris,  at  six  in  the  morning;  when  some  Patriot 
Deputy,  warned  by  a  billet,  awoke  Lafayette,  and  they  went 
to  the  Tuileries  ?  —  Imagination  may  paint,  but  words  cannot, 
the  surprise  of  Lafayette;  or  with  what  bewilderment  helpless 
Gouvion  rolled  glassy  Argus’  eyes,  discerning  now  that  his 
false  Chambermaid  had  told  true  ! 

1  Henault,  Abr€g€  Chronologxque,  p.  36. 

2 


VOL.  IV. 


18  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

However,  it  is  to  be  recorded  that  Paris,  thanks  to  an  august 
National  Assembly,  did,  on  this  seeming  doomsday,  surpass 
itself.  Never,  according  to  Historian  eye-witnesses,  was  there 
seen  such  an  “  imposing  attitude.”  1  Sections  all  “  in  perma¬ 
nence  ;  ”  our  Town-hall  too,  having  first,  about  ten  o’clock, 
fired  three  solemn  alarm-cannons :  above  all,  our  National 
Assembly  !  National  Assembly,  likewise  permanent,  decides 
what  is  needful ;  with  unanimous  consent,  for  the  Cote  Droit 
sits  dumb,  afraid  of  the  Lanterne.  Decides  with  a  calm 
promptitude,  which  rises  towards  the  sublime.  One  must 
needs  vote,  for  the  thing  is  self-evident,  that  his  Majesty  has 
been  abducted  or  spirited  away,  “  enleve by  some  person  or 
persons  unknown  :  in  which  case,  what  will  the  Constitution 
have  us  do  ?  Let  us  return  to  first  principles,  as  we  always 
say:  “  revenons  aux  principes .” 

By  first  or  by  second  principles,  much  is  promptly  decided  : 
Ministers  are  sent  for,  instructed  how  to  continue  their  func¬ 
tions  ;  Lafayette  is  examined ;  and  Gouvion,  who  gives  a  most 
helpless  account,  the  best  he  can.  Letters  are  found  written : 
one  Letter,  of  immense  magnitude  ;  all  in  his  Majesty’s  hand, 
and  evidently  of  his  Majesty’s  own  composition ;  addressed 
to  the  National  Assembly.  It  details,  with  earnestness,  with 
a  childlike  simplicity,  what  woes  his  Majesty  has  suffered. 
Woes  great  and  small :  A  Necker  seen  applauded,  a  Majesty 
not ;  then  insurrection ;  want  of  due  furniture  in  Tuileries 
Palace  ;  want  of  due  cash  in  Civil  List ;  general  want  of  cash, 
of  furniture  and  order ;  anarchy  everywhere :  Deficit  never 
yet,  in  the  smallest,  “  choked  or  eomble  :  ”  —  wherefore,  in 
brief,  his  Majesty  has  retired  towards  a  place  of  Liberty ;  and, 
leaving  Sanctions,  Federation,  and  what  Oaths  there  may  be, 
to  shift  for  themselves,  does  now  refer  —  to  what,  thinks  an 
august  Assembly  ?  To  that  “  Declaration  of  the  Twenty-third 
of  June,”  with  its  “  Seul  il  fera. ,  He  alone  will  make  his  Peo¬ 
ple  happy.”  As  if  that  were  not  buried,  deep  enough,  under 
two  irrevocable  Twelvemonths,  and  the  wreck  and  rubbish  of 
a  whole  Feudal  World !  This  strange  autograph  Letter  the 

1  Deux  Amis,  vi.  67-178;  Toulongeon,  ii.  1-38;  Camille,  Prudhomme  and 
Editors  (in  Hist.  Pari.  x.  240-244). 


ATTITUDE. 


19 


Chap.  IV. 

June  21. 

National  Assembly  decides  on  printing ;  on  transmitting  to 
the  Eighty-three  Departments,  with  exegetic  commentary, 
short  but  pithy.  Commissioners  also  shall  go  forth  on  all 
sides ;  the  People  be  exhorted ;  the  Armies  be  increased  5  care 
taken  that  the  Commonweal  suffer  no  damage.  —  And  now, 
with  a  sublime  air  of  calmness,  nay  of  indifference,  we  “  pass 
to  the  order  of  the  day  ”  ! 

By  such  sublime  calmness,  the  terror  of  the  People  is 
calmed.  These  gleaming  Pike-forests,  which  bristled  fateful 
in  the  early  sun,  disappear  again ;  the  far-sounding  Street- 
orators  cease,  or  spout  milder.  We  are  to  have  a  civil  war  5 
let  us  have  it  then.  The  King  is  gone  ;  but  National  Assem¬ 
bly,  but  France  and  we  remain.  The  People  also  takes  a  great 
attitude  ;  the  People  also  is  calm  ;  motionless  as  a  couchant 
lion.  With  but  a  few  broolings ,  some  waggings  of  the  tail  : 
to  show  what  it  will  do  !  Cazales,  for  instance,  was  beset  by 
street-groups,  and  cries  of  Lanterne ;  but  National  Patrols 
easily  delivered  him.  Likewise  all  King’s  effigies  and  stat¬ 
ues,  at  least  stucco  ones,  get  abolished.  Even  King’s  names  ; 
the  word  Roi  fades  suddenly  out  of  all  shop-signs ;  the  Koyal 
Bengal  Tiger  itself,  on  the  Boulevards,  becomes  the  National 
Bengal  one,  Tigre  National} 

How  great  is  a  calm  couchant  People  !  On  the  morrow, 
men  will  say  to  one  another  :  “We  have  no  King,  yet  we  slept 
sound  enough.”  On  the  morrow,  fervent  Achille  de  Chatelet, 
and  Thomas  Paine  the  rebellious  Needleman,  shall  have  the 
walls  of  Paris  profusely  plastered  with  their  Placard ;  an¬ 
nouncing  that  there  must  be  a  Republic }  —  Need  we  add,  that 
Lafayette  too,  though  at  first  menaced  by  Pikes,  has  taken 
a  great  attitude,  or  indeed  the  greatest  of  all  ?  Scouts  and 
Aides-de-camp  fly  forth,  vague,  in  quest  and  pursuit ;  young 
Komoeuf  towards  Valenciennes,  though  with  small  hope. 

Thus  Paris ;  sublimely  calmed,  in  its  bereavement.  But 
from  the  Messageries  Royales,  in  all  Mail-bags,  radiates  forth 
far-darting  the  electric  news  :  Our  Hereditary  Representative 
is  flown.  Laugh,  black  Royalists  :  yet  be  it  in  your  sleeve 
only ;  lest  Patriotism  notice,  and  waxing  frantic,  lower  the 
1  Walpoliana .  2  Dumont,  c.  16. 


20  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

Lanterne  !  In  Paris  alone  is  a  sublime  National  Assembly 
with  its  calmness ;  truly,  other  places  must  take  it  as  they 
can  :  with  open  mouth  and  eyes  ;  with  panic  cackling,  with 
wrath,  with  conjecture.  How  each  one  of  those  dull  leathern 
Diligences,  with  its  leathern  bag  and  “  The  King  is  fled,”  fur¬ 
rows  up  smooth  France  as  it  goes  ;  through  town  and  hamlet, 
ruffles  the  smooth  public  mind  into  quivering  agitation  of 
death-terror ;  then  lumbers  on,  as  if  nothing  had  happened  ! 
Along  all  highways  j  towards  the  utmost  borders ;  till  all 
France  is  ruffled,  —  roughened  up  (metaphorically  speaking) 
into  one  enormous,  desperate-minded,  red  guggling  Turkey 
Cock  ! 

For  example,  it  is  under  cloud  of  night  that  the  leathern 
Monster  reaches  Nantes ;  deep  sunk  in  sleep.  The  word 
spoken  rouses  all  Patriot  men :  General  Dumouriez,  envel¬ 
oped  in  roquelaures,  has  to  descend  from  his  bedroom ;  finds 
the  street  covered  with  “  four  or  five  thousand  citizens  in 
their  shirts.”  1  Here  and  there  a  faint  farthing  rushlight, 
hastily  kindled ;  and  so  many  swart-featured  haggard  faces 
with  nightcaps  pushed  back ;  and  the  more  or  less  flowing 
drapery  of  night-shirt :  open-mouthed  till  the  General  say  his 
word  !  And  overhead,  as  always,  the  Great  Bear  is  turning 
so  quiet  round  Bootes ;  steady,  indifferent  as  the  leathern 
Diligence  itself.  Take  comfort,  ye  men  of  Nantes  ;  Bootes 
and  the  steady  Bear  are  turning ;  ancient  Atlantic  still  sends 
his  brine,  loud-billowing,  up  your  Loire-stream ;  brandy  shall 
be  hot  in  the  stomach :  this  is  not  the  Last  of  the  Days,  but 
one  before  the  Last.  —  The  fools  !  If  they  knew  what  was 
doing,  in  these  very  instants,  also  by  candle-light,  in  the  far 
Northeast ! 

Perhaps,  we  may  say,  the  most  terrified  man  in  Paris  or 
France  is  —  who  thinks  the  Leader  ?  —  sea-green  Bobespierre. 
Double  paleness,  with  the  shadow  of  gibbets  and  halters,  over¬ 
casts  the  sea-green  features  :  it  is  too  clear  to  him  that  there 
is  to  be  “  a  Saint-Bartholomew  of  Patriots,”  that  in  four-and- 
twenty  hours  he  will  not  be  in  life.  These  horrid  antici¬ 
pations  of  the  soul  he  is  heard  uttering  at  Petion’s  :  by  a 

1  Dumouriez,  Memoires,  ii.  109. 


THE  NEW  BEELINE. 


21 


Chap.  V. 
June  21. 


notable  witness.  By  Madame  Boland,  namely ;  her  whom  we 
saw,  last  year,  radiant  at  the  Lyons  Federation.  These  four 
months,  the  Bolands  have  been  in  Paris ;  arranging  with 
Assembly  Committees  the  Municipal  affairs  of  Lyons,  affairs 
all  sunk  in  debt ;  —  communing,  the  while,  as  was  most  natu¬ 
ral,  with  the  best  Patriots  to  be  found  here,  with  our  Brissots, 
Petions,  Buzots,  Bobespierres :  who  were  wont  to  come  to  us, 
says  the  fair  Hostess,  four  evenings  in  the  week.  They,  run¬ 
ning  about,  busier  than  ever  this  day,  would  fain  have  com¬ 
forted  the  sea-green  man ;  spake  of  Achiile  de  Chatelet’s 
Placard;  of  a  Journal  to  be  called  The  Republican ;  of  pre¬ 
paring  men’s  minds  for  a  Bepublic.  “  A  Bepublic  ?  ”  said  the 
Sea-green,  with  one  of  his  dry  husky  tmsportful  laughs,  “  What 
is  that  ?  ” 1  0  sea-green  Incorruptible,  thou  shalt  see ! 


CHAPTEB  V. 

THE  NEW  BEELINE. 

But  scouts,  all  this  while,  and  aides-de-camp,  have  flown 
forth  faster  than  the  leathern  Diligences.  Young  Bomoeuf, 
as  we  said,  was  off  early  towards  Valenciennes :  distracted 
Villagers  seize  him,  as  a  traitor  with  a  finger  of  his  own  in 
the  plot ;  drag  him  back  to  the  Town-hall ;  to  the  National 
Assembly,  which  speedily  grants  a  new  passport.  Nay  now, 
that  same  scarecrow  of  an  Herb-merchant  with  his  ass  has 
bethought  him  of  the  grand  new  Berline  seen  in  the  Wood 
of  Bondy ;  and  delivered  evidence  of  it : 2  Bomoeuf,  furnished 
with  new  passport,  is  sent  forth  with  double  speed  on  a 
hopefuler  track ;  by  Bondy,  Claye  and  Chalons,  towards  Metz, 
to  track  the  new  Berline;  and  gallops  a  franc  e  trier. 

Miserable  new  Berline !  Why  could  not  Boyalty  go  in 
some  old  Berline  similar  to  that  of  other  men  ?  Flying  for 
life,  one  does  not  stickle  about  his  vehicle.  Monsieur,  in  a 

1  Madame  Roland,  ii.  70. 

2  Moniteur,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  x.  244-253). 


22  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

commonplace  travelling-carriage  is  off  Northwards ;  Madame, 
his  Princess,  in  another,  with  variation  of  route :  they  cross 
one  another  while  changing  horses,  without  look  of  recogni¬ 
tion  ;  and  reach  Elanders,  no  man  questioning  them.  Pre¬ 
cisely  in  the  same  manner,  beautiful  Princess  de  Lamballe 
set  off,  about  the  same  hour ;  and  will  reach  England  safe  : 
—  would  she  had  continued  there !  The  beautiful,  the  good, 
but  the  unfortunate ;  reserved  for  a  frightful  end ! 

All  runs  along,  unmolested,  speedy,  except  only  the  new 
Berline.  Huge  leathern  vehicle :  —  huge  Argosy,  let  us  say, 
or  Acapulco  ship;  with  its  heavy  stern-boat  of  Chaise-and- 
pair ;  with  its  three  yellow  Pilot-boats  of  mounted  Body¬ 
guard  Couriers,  rocking  aimless  round  it  and  ahead  of  it,  to 
bewilder,  not  to  guide  !  It  lumbers  along,  lurchingly  with 
stress,  at  a  snail’s  pace ;  noted  of  all  the  world.  The  Body¬ 
guard  Couriers,  in  their  yellow  liveries,  go  prancing  and 
clattering ;  loyal  but  stupid ;  unacquainted  with  all  things. 
Stoppages  occur;  and  breakages,  to  be  repaired  at  Etoges. 
King  Louis  too  will  dismount,  will  walk  up  hills,  and  enjoy 
the  blessed  sunshine  :  —  with  eleven  horses  and  double  drink- 
money,  and  all  furtherances  of  Nature  and  Art,  it  will  be 
found  that  Royalty,  flying  for  life,  accomplishes  Sixty-nine 
miles  in  Twenty-two  incessant  hours.  Slow  Royalty!  And 
yet  not  a  minute  of  these  hours  but  is  precious :  on  minutes 
hang  the  destinies  of  Royalty  now. 

Readers,  therefore,  can  judge  in  what  humor  Duke  de 
Choiseul  might  stand  waiting,  in  the  village  of  Pont-de- 
Sommevelle,  some  leagues  beyond  Chalons,  hour  after  hour, 
now  when  the  day  bends  visibly  westward.  Choiseul  drove 
out  of  Paris,  in  all  privity,  ten  hours  before  their  Majesties’ 
fixed  time ;  his  Hussars,  led  by  Engineer  Goguelat,  are  here 
duly,  come  “to  escort  a  Treasure  that  is  expected:”  but, 
hour  after  hour,  is  no  Baroness  de  Korff’s  Berline.  Indeed, 
over  all  that  Northeast  Region,  on  the  skirts  of  Champagne 
and  of  Lorraine,  where  the  great  Road  runs,  the  agitation 
is  considerable.  For  all  along,  from  this  Pont-de-Somme- 
velle  Northeastward  as  far  as  Montmedi,  at  Post-villages  and 


Chap.  V.  THE  NEW  BEELINE.  23 

June  21. 

Towns,  escorts  of  Hussars  and  Dragoons  do  lounge  waiting ; 
a  train  or  chain  of  Military  Escorts  ;  at  the  Montmedi  end 
of  it  our  brave  Bouille :  an  electric  thunder-chain ;  which  the 
invisible  Bouille,  like  a  Father  Jove,  holds  in  his  hand  —  for 
wise  purposes !  Brave  Bouille  has  done  what  man  could ; 
has  spread  out  his  electric  thunder-chain  of  Military  Escorts, 
onwards  to  the  threshold  of  Chalons:  it  waits  but  for  the 
new  Korff  Berline ;  to  receive  it,  escort  it,  and,  if  need  be, 
bear  it  off  in  whirlwind  of  military  fire.  They  lie  and  lounge 
there,  we  say,  these  fierce  Troopers ;  from  Montmedi  and 
Stenai,  though  Clermont,  Sainte-Menehould  to  utmost  Pont- 
de-Sommevelle,  in  all  Post-villages ;  for  the  route  shall  avoid 
Verdun  and  great  Towns :  they  loiter  impatient,  “  till  the 
Treasure  arrive.” 

Judge  what  a  day  this  is  for  brave  Bouille :  perhaps  the 
first  day  of  a  new  glorious  life ;  surely  the  last  day  of  the 
old !  Also,  and  indeed  still  more,  what  a  day,  beautiful  and 
terrible,  for  your  young  full-blooded  Captains :  your  Dandoins, 
Comte  de  Damas,  Duke  de  Choiseul,  Engineer  Goguelat,  and 
the  like  ;  intrusted  with  the  secret !  —  Alas,  the  day  bends 
ever  more  westward :  and  no  Korff  Berline  comes  to  sight. 
It  is  four  hours  beyond  the  time,  and  still  no  Berline.  In 
all  Village-streets,  Boyalist  Captains  go  lounging,  looking 
often  Paris-ward ;  with  face  of  unconcern,  with  heart  full 
of  black  care  :  rigorous  Quartermasters  can  hardly  keep  the 
private  dragoons  from  cafes  and  dramshops.1  Dawn  on  our 
bewilderment,  thou  new  Berline ;  dawn  on  us,  thou  Sun- 
Chariot  of  a  new  Berline,  with  the  destinies  of  France ! 

It  was  of  his  Majesty’s  ordering,  this  military  array  of 
Escorts  :  a  thing  solacing  the  Royal  imagination  with  a  look 
of  security  and  rescue;  yet,  in  reality,  creating  only  alarm, 
and,  where  there  was  otherwise  no  danger,  danger  without 
end.  For  each  Patriot,  in  these  Post-villages,  asks  natu¬ 
rally  :  This  clatter  of  cavalry,  and  marching  and  lounging  of 
troops,  what  means  it  ?  To  escort  a  Treasure  ?  Why  escort, 
when  no  Patriot  will  steal  from  the  Nation  ;  or  where  is  your 

1  Declaration  du  Sieur  La  Gache  du  Regiment  Royal  Dragons  (in  Choiseul, 
pp.  125-139). 


24  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

Treasure?  —  There  has  been  such  marching  and  counter-march¬ 
ing  :  for  it  is  another  fatality,  that  certain  of  these  Military 
Escorts  came  out  so  early  as  yesterday ;  the  Nineteenth  not 
the  Twentieth  of  the  month  being  the  day  first  appointed; 
which  her  Majesty,  for  some  necessity  or  other,  saw  good  to 
alter.  And  now  consider  the  suspicious  nature  of  Patriotism  ; 
suspicious,  above  all,  of  Bouille  the  Aristocrat ;  and  how  the 
sour  doubting  humor  has  had  leave  to  accumulate  and  ex¬ 
acerbate  for  four-and-twenty  hours ! 

At  Pont-de-Sommevelle,  these  Forty  foreign  Hussars  of 
Goguelat  and  Duke  Choiseul  are  becoming  an  unspeakable 
mystery  to  all  men.  They  lounged  long  enough,  already, 
at  Sainte-Menehould ;  lounged  and  loitered  till  our  National 
Volunteers  there,  all  risen  into  hot  wrath  of  doubt,  “  de¬ 
manded  three  hundred  fusils  of  their  Town-hall,”  and  got 
them.  At  which  same  moment  too,  as  it  chanced,  our  Cap¬ 
tain  Dandoins  was  just  coming  in,  from  Clermont  with  his 
troop,  at  the  other  end  of  the  Village.  A  fresh  troop  ;  alarm¬ 
ing  enough;  though  happily  they  are  only  Dragoons  and 
French  !  So  that  Goguelat  with  his  Hussars  had  to  ride, 
and  even  to  do  it  fast ;  till  here  at  Pont-de-Sommevelle,  where 
Choiseul  lay  waiting,  he  found  resting-place.  Resting-place 
as  on  burning  marl.  For  the  rumor  of  him  flies  abroad; 
and  men  run  to  and  fro  in  fright  and  anger :  Chalons  sends 
forth  exploratory  pickets  of  National  Volunteers  towards  this 
hand;  which  meet  exploratory  pickets,  coming  from  Sainte- 
Menehould,  on  that.  What  is  it,  ye  whiskered  Hussars,  men 
of  foreign  guttural  speech ;  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  is 
it  that  brings  you  ?  A  Treasure  ?  —  exploratory  pickets  shake 
their  heads.  The  hungry  Peasants,  however,  know  too  well 
what  Treasure  it  is ;  Military  seizure  for  rents,  feudalities ; 
which  no  Bailiff  could  make  us  pay  !  This  they  know ;  — 
and  set  to  jingling  their  Parish-bell  by  way  of  tocsin;  with 
rapid  effect !  Choiseul  and  Goguelat,  if  the  whole  country 
is  not  to  take  fire,  must  needs,  be  there  Berline,  be  there  no 
Berline,  saddle  and  ride. 

They  mount ;  and  this  parish  tocsin  happily  ceases.  They 
ride  slowly  Eastward ;  towards  Sainte-Menehould ;  still  hoping 


Chap.  VI.  OLD-DRAGOON  DROUET.  25 

June  21. 

the  Sun-Chariot  of  a  Berline  may  overtake  them.  Ah  me,  no 
Berline  !  And  near  now  is  that  Sainte-Menehould,  which  ex- 
pelled  us  in  the  morning,  with  its  “  three  hundred  National 
fusils  ;  ”  which  looks,  belike,  not  too  lovingly  on  Captain  Dan- 
doins  and  his  fresh  Dragoons,  though  only  French ;  —  which, 
in  a  word,  one  dare  not  enter  the  second  time,  under  pain  of 
explosion  !  With  rather  heavy  heart,  our  Hussar  Party  strikes 
off  to  the  left;  through  by-ways,  through  pathless  hills  and 
woods,  they,  avoiding  Sainte-Menehould  and  all  places  which 
have  seen  them  heretofore,  will  make  direct  for  the  distant 
Village  of  Varennes.  It  is  probable  they  will  have  a  rough 
evening  ride. 

This  first  military  post,  therefore,  in  the  long  thnnder-chain, 
has  gone  off  with  no  effect;  or  with  worse,  and  your  chain 
threatens  to  entangle  itself !  —  The  Great  Road,  however,  is 
got  hushed  again  into  a  kind  of  quietude,  though  one  of  the 
wakefulest.  Indolent  Dragoons  cannot,  by  any  Quartermaster, 
be  kept  altogether  from  the  dramshop ;  where  Patriots  drink, 
and  will  even  treat,  eager  enough  for  news.  Captains,  in  a 
state  near  distraction,  beat  the  dusty  highway,  with  a  face  of 
indifference ;  and  n©  Sun-Chariot  appears.  Why  lingers  it  ? 
Incredible,  that  with  eleven  horses,  and  such  yellow  Couriers 
and  furtherances,  its  rate  should  be  under  the  weightiest  dray- 
rate,  some  three  miles  an  hour !  Alas,  one  knows  not  whether 
it  ever  even  got  out  of  Paris ;  —  and  yet  also  one  knows  not 
whether,  this  very  moment,  it  is  not  at  the  Village-end !  One’s 
heart  flutters  on  the  verge  of  unutterabilities. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OLD-DRAGOON"  DROUET. 

In  this  manner,  however,  has  the  Day  bent  downwards. 
Wearied  mortals  are  creeping  home  from  their  field-labor ;  the 
village-artisan  eats  with  relish  his  supper  of  herbs,  or  has 
strolled  forth  to  the  village-street  for  a  sweet  mouthful  of  air 


26  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

and  human  news.  Still  summer-eventide  everywhere!  The 
great  Sun  hangs  flaming  on  the  utmost  Northwest ;  for  it  is  his 
longest  day  this  year.  The  hill-tops  rejoicing  will  ere  long  be 
at  their  ruddiest,  and  blush  Good-night.  The  thrush,  in  green 
dells,  on  long-sliadowed  leafy  spray,  pours  gushing  his  glad 
serenade,  to  the  babble  of  brooks  grown  audibler;  silence  is 
stealing  over  the  Earth.  Your  dusty  Mill  of  Valmy,  as  all  ' 
other  mills  and  drudgeries,  may  furl  its  canvas,  and  cease 
swashing  and  circling.  The  swenkt  grinders  in  this  Treadmill 
of  an  Earth  have  ground  out  another  Day ;  and  lounge  there,  as 
we  say,  in  village-groups ;  movable,  or  ranked  on  social  stone- 
seats  ; 1  their  children,  mischievous  imps,  sporting  about  their 
feet.  Unnotable  hum  of  sweet  human  gossip  rises  from  this 
Village  of  Sainte-Menehould,  as  from  all  other  villages.  Gos¬ 
sip  mostly  sweet,  unnotable ;  for  the  very  Dragoons  are  French 
and  gallant;  nor  as  yet  has  the  Paris-and- Verdun  Diligence, 
with  its  leathern  bag,  rumbled  in,  to  terrify  the  minds  of 
men. 

One  figure  nevertheless  we  do  note  at  the  last  door  of  the 
Village :  that  figure  in  loose-flowing  nightgown,  of  Jean  Bap¬ 
tiste  Drouet,  Master  of  the  Post  here.  Ai?  acrid  choleric  man, 
rather  dangerous-looking ;  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  though  he 
has  served,  in  his  time,  as  a  Conde  Dragoon.  This  day,  from 
an  early  hour  Drouet  got  his  choler  stirred,  and  has  been  kept 
fretting.  Hussar  Goguelat  in  the  morning  saw  good,  by  way 
of  thrift,  to  bargain  with  his  own  Innkeeper,  not  with  Drouet 
regular  Mditre  de  Post,  about  some  gig-horse  for  the  sending 
back  of  his  gig ;  which  thing  Drouet  perceiving  came  over  in 
red  ire,  menacing  the  Innkeeper,  and  would  not  be  appeased. 
Wholly  an  unsatisfactory  day.  For  Drouet  is  an  acrid  Patriot 
too,  was  at  the  Paris  Feast  of  Pikes  :  and  what  do  these  Bouill4 
soldiers  mean  ?  Hussars  —  with  their  gig,  and  a  vengeance 
to  it !  —  have  hardly  been  thrust  out,  when  Dandoins  and  his 
fresh  Dragoons  arrive  from  Clermont,  and  stroll.  For  what 
purpose  ?  Choleric  Drouet  steps  out  and  steps  in,  with  long- 
flowing  nightgown ;  looking  abroad,  with  that  sharpness  of 
faculty  which  stirred  choler  gives  to  man. 

1  Rapport  de  M.  Remy  (in  Choiseul,  p.  143). 


Chap.  VI.  OLD-DRAGOON  DROUET.  27 

June  21. 

On  the  other  hand,  mark  Captain  Dandoins  on  the  street  of 
that  same  Village;  sauntering  with  a  face  of  indifference,  a 
heart  eaten  of  black  care !  For  no  Korff  Berline  makes  its 
appearance.  The  great  Sun  flames  broader  towards  setting : 
one’s  heart  flutters  on  the  verge  of  dread  unutterabilities. 

By  Heaven !  here  is  the  yellow  Body-guard  Courier ;  spurring 
fast,  in  the  ruddy  evening  light !  Steady,  0  Dandoins,  stand 
with  inscrutable  indifferent  face ;  though  the  yellow  blockhead 
spurs  past  the  Post-house  ;  inquires  to  find  it ;  and  stirs  the 
Village,  all  delighted  with  his  fine  livery.  —  Lumbering  along 
with  its  mountains  of  bandboxes,  and  Chaise  behind,  the  Korff 
Berline  rolls  in ;  huge  Acapulco  ship  with  its  Cockboat,  having 
got  thus  far.  The  eyes  of  the  Villagers  look  enlightened,  as 
such  eyes  do  when  a  coach-transit,  which  is  an  event,  occurs 
for  them.  Strolling  Dragoons  respectfully,  so  fine  are  the 
yellow  liveries,  bring  hand  to  helmet ;  and  a  Lady  in  gypsy-hat 
responds  with  a  grace  peculiar  to  her.1  Dandoins  stands  with 
folded  arms,  and  what  look  of  indifference  and  disdainful 
garrison-air  a  man  can,  while  the  heart  is  like  leaping  out  of 
him.  Curled  disdainful  mustachio ;  careless  glance,  —  which 
however  surveys  the  Village-groups,  and  does  not  like  them. 
With  his  eye  he  bespeaks  the  yellow  Courier,  Be  quick,  be 
quick  !  Thick-headed  Yellow  cannot  understand  the  eye  ;  comes 
up  mumbling,  to  ask  in  words :  seen  of  the  Village  ! 

Nor  is  Post-master  Drouet  unobservant  all  this  while :  but 
steps  out  and  steps  in,  with  his  long-flowing  nightgown,  in  the 
level  sunlight ;  prying  into  several  things.  When  a  man’s  fac¬ 
ulties,  at  the  right  time,  are  sharpened  by  choler,  it  may  lead 
to  much.  That  Lady  in  slouched  gypsy-hat,  though  sitting 
back  in  the  Carriage,  does  she  not  resemble  some  one  we  have 
seen,  some  time  ;  —  at  the  Feast  of  Pikes,  or  elsewhere  ?  And 
this  Grosse-Tete  in  round  hat  and  peruke,  which,  looking 
rearward,  pokes  itself  out  from  time  to  time,  methinks  there 
are  features  in  it  —  ?  Quick,  Sieur  Guillaume,  Clerk  of  the 
Directoire ,  bring  me  a  new  Assignat !  Drouet  scans  the  new 
Assignat ;  compares  the  Paper-money  Picture  with  the  Gross 

Head  in  round  hat  there :  by  Day  and  Night !  you  might 

• 

1  Declaration  de  La  Cache  (in  Clioiseul,  ubi  supra). 


28  VARENNES.  Book  XT. 

1791. 

say  the  one  was  an  attempted  Engraving  of  the  other.  And 
this  march  of  Troops;  this  sauntering  and  whispering,  —  I 
see  it ! 

Drouet  Post-master  of  this  Village,  hot  Patriot,  Old-Dragoon 
of  Conde,  consider,  therefore,  what  thou  wilt  do.  And  fast,  for 
behold  the  new  Berline,  expeditiously  yoked,  cracks  whipcord, 
and  rolls  away  !  —  Drouet  dare  not,  on  the  spur  of  the  instant, 
clutch  the  bridles  in  his  own  two  hands ;  Dandoins,  with  broad¬ 
sword,  might  hew  you  off.  Our  poor  Nationals,  not  one  of 
them  here,  have  three  hundred  fusils,  but  then  no  powder; 
besides  one  is  not  sure,  only  morally  certain.  Drouet,  as  an 
adroit  Old-Dragoon  of  Conde,  does  what  is  advisablest ;  privily 
bespeaks  Clerk  Guillaume,  Old-Dragoon  of  Conde  he  too  ;  priv¬ 
ily,  while  Clerk  Guillaume  is  saddling  two  of  the  fleetest 
horses,  slips  over  to  the  Town-hall  to  whisper  a  word ;  then 
mounts  with  Clerk  Guillaume ;  and  the  two  bound  eastward  in 
pursuit,  to  see  what  can  be  done. 

They  bound  eastward,  in  sharp  trot :  their  moral-certainty 
permeating  the  Village,  from  the  Town-hall  outwards,  in  busy 
whispers.  Alas !  Captain  Dandoins  orders  his  Dragoons  to 
mount;  but  they,  complaining  of  long  fast,  demand  bread- 
and-cheese  first ;  —  before  which  brief  repast  can  be  eaten, 
the  whole  Village  is  permeated ;  not  whispering  now,  but 
blustering  and  shrieking !  National  Volunteers,  in  hurried 
muster,  shriek  for  gunpowder ;  Dragoons  halt  between  Pa¬ 
triotism  and  Rule  of  the  Service,  between  bread-and-cheese 
and  fixed  bayonets :  Dandoins  hands  secretly  his  Pocket- 
book,  with  its  secret  despatches,  to  the  rigorous  Quarter¬ 
master  :  the  very  Ostlers  have  stable-forks  and  flails.  The 
rigorous  Quartermaster,  half-saddled,  cuts  out  his  way  with 
the  sword’s  edge,  amid  levelled  bayonets,  amid  Patriot  vocif¬ 
erations,  adjurations,  flail-strokes;  and  rides  frantic;1  —  few 
or  even  none  following  him ;  the  rest,  so  sweetly  constrained, 
consenting  to  stay  there. 

And  thus  the  new  Berline  rolls  ;  and  Drouet  and  Guillaume 
gallop  after  it,  and  Dandoins’  Troopers  or  Trooper  gallops 
1  Declaration  de  La  Gache  (in  Choiseul,  p.  134). 


THE  NIGHT  OF  SPURS. 


29 


Chap.  VII. 
June  21. 


after  them ;  and  Sainte-Menehould,  with  some  leagues  of  the 
King’s  Highway,  is  in  explosion  ;  —  and  your  Military  thun¬ 
der-chain  has  gone  off  in  a  self-destructive  manner  ;  one  may 
fear,  with  the  frightfulest  issues. 


- © - 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  NIGHT  OF  SPUES. 

This  comes  of  mysterious  Escorts,  and  a  new  Berline  with 
eleven  horses :  “  he  that  has  a  secret  should  not  only  hide  it, 
but  hide  that  he  has  it  to  hide.”  Your  first  Military  Escort 
has  exploded  self-destructive  ;  and  all  Military  Escorts,  and  a 
suspicious  Country  will  now  be  up,  explosive  ;  comparable  not 
to  victorious  thunder.  Comparable,  say  rather,  to  the  first 
stirring  of  an  Alpine  Avalanche ;  which,  once  stir  it,  as  here 
at  Sainte-Menehould,  will  spread,  —  all  round,  and  on  and  on, 
as  far  as  Stenai ;  thundering  with  wild  ruin,  till  Patriot  Vil¬ 
lagers,  Peasantry,  Military  Escorts,  new  Berline  and  Royalty 
are  down,  — jumbling  in  the  Abyss  ! 

The  thick  shades  of  Night  are  falling.  Postilions  crack 
and  whip :  the  Royal  Berline  is  through  Clermont,  where 
Colonel  Comte  de  Damas  got  a  word  whispered  to  it;  is 
safe  through,  towards  Varennes ;  rushing  at  the  rate  of  double 
drink-money:  an  Unknown,  “ Inconnu  on  horseback,”  shrieks 
earnestly  some  hoarse  whisper,  not  audible,  into  the  rushing 
Carriage-window,  and  vanishes,  left  in  the  night.1  August 
Travellers  palpitate ;  nevertheless  overwearied  Nature  sinks 
every  one  of  them  into  a  kind  of  sleep.  Alas,  and  Drouet 
and  Clerk  Guillaume  spur;  taking  side-roads,  for  shortness, 
for  safety ;  scattering  abroad  that  moral-certainty  of  theirs ; 
which  flies,  a  bird  of  the  air  carrying  it ! 

And  your  rigorous  Quartermaster  spurs ;  awakening  hoarse 
trumpet-tone,  —  as  here  at  Clermont,  calling  out  Dragoons 
gone  to  bed.  Brave  Colonel  de  Damas  has  them  mounted,  in 

1  Campan.  ii.  159. 


30  VAKENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

part,  these  Clermont  men ;  young  Cornet  Bemy  dashes  off 
with  a  few.  But  the  Patriot  Magistracy  is  out  here  at  Cler¬ 
mont  too  ;  National  Guards  shrieking  for  ball-cartridges  ;  and 
the  Village  “illuminates  itself;”  —  deft  Patriots  springing 
out  of  bed  ;  alertly,  in  shirt  or  shift,  striking  a  light ;  sticking 
up  each  his  farthing  candle,  or  penurious  oil-cruise,  till  all 
glitters  and  glimmers ;  so  deft  are  they  !  A  camisado ,  or  shirt- 
tumult,  everywhere :  storm-bell  set  a-ringing ;  village-drum 
beating  furious  generate ,  as  here  at  Clermont,  under  illumi¬ 
nation  ;  distracted  Patriots  pleading  and  menacing !  Brave 
young  Colonel  de  Damas,  in  that  uproar  of  distracted  Patriot¬ 
ism,  speaks  some  fire-sentences  to  what  Troopers  he  has : 
“  Comrades  insulted  at  Sainte-Menehould :  King  and  Country 
calling  on  the  brave ;  ”  then  gives  the  fire-word,  Draw  swords. 
Whereupon,  alas,  the  Troopers  only  smite  their  sword-handles, 
driving  them  farther  home  !  “  To  me,  whoever  is  for  the 
King  !  ”  cries  Damas  in  despair;  and  gallops,  he  with  some 
poor  loyal  Two,  of  the  Subaltern  sort,  into  the  bosom  of  the 
Night.1 

Night  unexampled  in  the  Clermontais  ;  shortest  of  the  year ; 
remarkablest  of  the  century :  Night  deserving  to  be  named  of 
Spurs !  Cornet  Bemy,  and  those  Few  he  dashed  off  with,  has 
missed  his  road;  is  galloping  for  hours  towards  Verdun  ;  then, 
for  hours,  across  hedged  country,  through  roused  hamlets, 
towards  Varennes.  Unlucky  Cornet  Bemy ;  unluckier  Colonel 
Damas,  with  whom  there  ride  desperate  only  some  loyal  Two  ! 
More  ride  not  of  that  Clermont  Escort :  of  other  Escorts,  in 
other  Villages,  not  even  Two  may  ride !  but  only  all  curvet 
and  prance,  —  impeded  by  storm-bell  and  your  Village  illumi¬ 
nating  itself. 

And  Drouet  rides  and  Clerk  Guillaume ;  and  the  Country 
runs.  —  Goguelat  and  Duke  Choiseul  are  plunging  through 
morasses,  over  cliffs,  over  stock  and  stone,  in  the  shaggy 
woods  of  the  Clermontais ;  by  tracks ;  or  trackless,  with 
guides  ;  Hussars  tumbling  into  pitfalls,  and  lying  “  swooned 
three  quarters  of  an  hour,”  the  rest  refusing  to  march  with¬ 
out  them.  What  an  evening  ride  from  Pont-de-Sommevelle ; 

1  Proces-verbal  da  Directoire  de  Clermont  (in  Choiseul,  pp.  189-195). 


Chap.  VII.  THE  NIGHT  OF  SPURS.  31 

June  21. 

what  a  thirty  hours,  since  Choiseul  quitted  Paris,  with 
Queen’s-valet  Leonard  in  the  chaise  by  him !  Black  Care  sits 
behind  the  rider.  Thus  go  they  plunging ;  rustle  the  owlet 
from  his  branchy  nest ;  champ  the  sweet-scented  forest-herb, 
queen-of-the-meadows  spilling  her  spikenard ;  and  frighten 
the  ear  of  Night.  But  hark  !  towards  twelve  o’clock,  as  one 
guesses,  for  the  very  stars  are  gone  out :  sound  of  the  tocsin 
from  Yarennes  ?  Checking  bridle,  the  Hussar  Officer  listens  : 
“  Some  fire  undoubtedly  !  ”  —  yet  rides  on,  with  double  breath¬ 
lessness,  to  verify. 

Yes,  gallant  friends  that  do  your  utmost,  it  is  a  certain  sort 
of  fire  :  difficult  to  quench.  —  The  Korff  Berline,  fairly  ahead 
of  all  this  riding  Avalanche,  reached  the  little  paltry  Vil¬ 
lage  of  Yarennes  about  eleven  o’clock ;  hopeful,  in  spite  of  that 
hoarse-whispering  Unknown.  Do  not  all  Towns  now  lie  behind 
us;  Yerdun  avoided,  on  our  right?  Within  wind  of  Bouille 
himself,  in  a  manner ;  and  the  darkest  of  midsummer  nights 
favoring  us  !  And  so  we  halt  on  the  hill-top  at  the  South  end 
of  the  Village  ;  expecting  our  relay ;  which  young  Bouilffi, 
Boulle’s  own  son,  with  his  Escort  of  Hussars,  was  to  have 
ready  ;  for  in  this  Village  is  no  Post.  Distracting  to  think  of : 
neither  horse  nor  Hussar  is  here !  Ah,  and  stout  horses,  a 
proper  relay  belonging  to  Duke  Choiseul,  do  stand  at  hay,  but 
in  the  Upper  Village  over  the  Bridge  ;  and  we  know  not  of 
them.  Hussars  likewise  do  wait,  but  drinking  in  the  taverns. 
For  indeed  it  is  six  hours  beyond  the  time  ;  young  Bouille, 
silly  stripling,  thinking  the  matter  over  for  this  night,  has 
retired  to  bed.  And  so  our  yellow  Couriers,  inexperienced, 
must  rove,  groping,  bungling,  through  a  Village  mostly  asleep  : 
Postilions  will  not,  for  any  money,  go  on  with  the  tired  horses  ; 
not  at  least  without  refreshment ;  not  they,  let  the  Valet  in 
round  hat  argue  as  he  likes. 

Miserable  !  “  For  five-and-thirty  minutes  ”  by  the  King’s 

watch,  the  Berline  is  at  a  dead  stand :  Bound-hat  arguing 
with  Churn-boots ;  tired  horses  slobbering  their  meal-and- 
water  ;  yellow  Couriers  groping,  bungling ;  —  young  Bouille 
asleep,  all  the  while,  in  the  Upper  Village,  and  Choiseul’ s 
fine  team  standing  there  at  hay.  No  help  for  it ;  not  with  a 


VARENNES. 


#2 


Book  XI. 
1791. 


King’s  ransom  ;  the  horses  deliberately  slobber,  Round-hat 
argues,  Bouille  sleeps.  And  mark  now,  in  the  thick  night, 
do  not  two  Horsemen,  with  jaded  trot,  come  clank-clanking; 
and  start  with  half-pause,  if  one  noticed  them,  at  sight  of  this 
dim  mass  of  a  Berline,  and  its  dull  slobbering  and  arguing; 
then  prick  off  faster,  into  the  Village  ?  It  is  Drouet,  he  and 
Clerk  Guillaume  !  Still  ahead,  they  two,  of  the  whole  riding 
hurly-burly  ;  unshot,  though  some  brag  of  having  chased  them. 
Perilous  is  Drouet’s  errand  also ;  but  he  is  an  Old-Dragoon, 
with  his  wits  shaken  thoroughly  awake. 

The  Village  of  Varennes  lies  dark  and  slumberous ;  a  most 
unlevel  Village,  of  inverse  saddle-shape,  as  men  write.  It 
sleeps ;  the  rushing  of  the  River  Aire  singing  lullaby  to  it. 
Nevertheless  from  the  Golden  Arm,  Bras  d’Or  Tavern,  across 
that  sloping  Market-place,  there  still  comes  shine  of  social 
light ;  comes  voice  of  rude  drovers,  or  the  like,  who  have  not 
yet  taken  the  stirrup-cup ;  Boniface  Le  Blanc,  in  white  apron, 
serving  them :  cheerful  to  behold.  To  this  Bras  cV  Or  Drouet 
enters,  alacrity  looking  through  his  eyes ;  he  nudges  Boniface, 
in  all  privacy,  “  Camarade ,  es-tu  bon  Patriote ,  Art  thou  a  good 
Patriot  ?  ”  —  “  Si  je  suis  !  ”  answers  Boniface.  —  “  In  that 
case,”  eagerly  whispers  Drouet  —  what  whisper  is  needful, 
heard  of  Boniface  alone.1 

And  now  see  Boniface  Le  Blanc  bustling,  as  he  never  did 
for  the  j oiliest  toper.  See  Drouet  and  Guillaume,  dexterous  - 
Old-Dragoons,  instantly  down  blocking  the  Bridge,  with  a 
“  furniture-wagon  they  find  there,”  with  whatever  wagons, 
tumbrils,  barrels,  barrows  their  hands  can  lay  hold  of ;  —  till 
no  carriage  can  pass.  Then  swiftly,  the  Bridge  once  blocked, 
see  them  take  station  hard  by,  under  Varennes  Archway : 
joined  by  Le  Blanc,  Le  Blanc’s  Brother,  and  one  or  two  alert 
Patriots  he  has  roused.  Some  half-dozen  in  all,  with  National 
muskets,  they  stand  close,  waiting  under  the  Archway,  till 
that  same  Korff  Berline  rumble  up. 

It  rumbles  up :  Alte  la  !  lanterns  flash  out  from  under  coat- 
skirts,  bridles  chuck  in  strong  fists,  two  National  muskets 
level  themselves  fore  and  aft  through  the  two  Coach-doors : 


1  Deux  Amis,  vi.  139-178. 


Chap.  yii.  THE  NIGHT  OF  SPURS.  33 

June  21. 

“Mesdames,  your  Passports?” — Alas,  alas!  Sieur  Sausse, 
Procureur  of  the  Township,  Tallow-chandler  also  and  Grocer, 
is  there,  with  official  grocer-politeness ;  Drouet  with  fierce 
logic  and  ready  wit :  —  The  respected  Travelling  Party,  be  it 
Baroness  de  Korff’s,  or  persons  of  still  higher  consequence, 
will  perhaps  please  to  rest  itself  in  M.  Sausse’s  till  the  dawn 
strike  up  ! 

0  Louis  j  0  hapless  Marie-Antoinette,  fated  to  pass  thy 
life  with  such  men  !  Phlegmatic  Lpuis,  art  thou  but  lazy 
semi-animate  phlegm,  then,  to  the  centre  of  thee  ?  King, 
Captain-General,  Sovereign  Frank  !  if  thy  heart  ever  formed, 
since  it  began  beating  under  the  name  of  heart,  any  resolution 
at  all,  be  it  now  then,  or  never  in  this  world  :  —  “  Violent  noc¬ 
turnal  individuals,  and  if  it  were  persons  of  high  consequence  ? 
And  if  it  were  the  King  himself  ?  Has  the  King  not  the 
power,  which  all  beggars  have,  of  travelling  unmolested  on 
his  own  Highway  ?  Yes  :  it  is  the  King  ;  and  tremble  ye  to 
know  it !  The  King  has  said,  in  this  one  small  matter ;  and 
in  France,  or  under  God’s  Throne,  is  no  power  that  shall  gain¬ 
say.  Not  the  King  shall  ye  stop  here  under  this  your  misera¬ 
ble  Archway ;  but  his  dead  body  only,  and  answer  it  to  Heaven 
and  Earth.  To  me,  Body-guards;  Postilions,  en  avant!” 
—  One  fancies  in  that  case  the  pale  paralysis  of  these  two 
Le  Blanc  musketeers ;  the  drooping  of  Drouet’s  under  jaw  ; 
and  how  Procureur  Sausse  had  melted  like  tallow  in  furnace- 
heat  :  Louis  faring  on ;  in  some  few  steps  awakening  Young 
Bouille,  awakening  relays  and  Hussars  :  triumphant  entry, 
with  cavalcading  high-brandishing  Escort,  and  Escorts,  into 
Montmedi ;  and  the  whole  course  of  French  History  different ! 

Alas,  it  was  not  in  the  poor  phlegmatic  man.  Had  it  been 
in  him,  French  History  had  never  come  under  this  Varennes 
Archway  to  decide  itself.  —  He  steps  out ;  all  step  out.  Pro¬ 
cureur*  Sausse  gives  his  grocer-arms  to  the  Queen  and  Sister 
Elizabeth ;  Majesty  taking  the  two  children  by  the  hand. 
And  thus  they  walk,  coolly  back,  over  the  Market-place  to 
Procureur  Sausse’s ;  mount  into  his  small  upper  story ; 
where  straightway  his  Majesty  “  demands  refreshments.” 
Demands  refreshments,  as  is  written;  gets  bread-and-cheese 

3 


VOL.  IV. 


34  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

with  a  bottle  of  Burgundy ;  and  remarks,  that  it  is  the  best 
Burgundy  he  ever  drank  ! 

Meanwhile,  the  Yarennes  Notables,  and  all  men,  official  and 
non-official,  are  hastily  drawing  on  their  breeches ;  getting 
their  lighting  gear.  Mortals  half-dressed  tumble  out  barrels, 
lay  felled  trees ;  scouts  dart  off  to  all  the  four  winds,  —  the 
tocsin  begins  clanging,  “the  Village  illuminates  itself.”  Very 
singular  :  how  these  little  Villages  do  manage,  so  adroit  are 
they,  when  startled  in  midnight  alarm  of  war.  Like  little 
adroit  municipal  rattlesnakes  suddenly  awakened:  for  their 
storm-bell  rattles  and  rings ;  their  eyes  glisten  luminous  (with 
tallow-light),  as  in  rattlesnake  ire ;  and  the  Village  will  sting. 
Old-Dragoon  Drouet  is  our  engineer  and  generalissimo ;  valiant 
as  a  Buy  Diaz  :  — Now  or  never,  ye  Patriots,  for  the  soldiery 
is  coming ;  massacre  by  Austrians,  by  Aristocrats,  wars  more 
than  civil,  it  all  depends  on  you  and  the  hour !  —  National 
Guards  rank  themselves,  half-buttoned :  mortals,  we  say,  still 
only  in  breeches,  in  under-petticoat,  tumble  out  barrels  and 
lumber,  lay  felled  trees  for  barricades :  the  Village  will  sting. 
Babid  Democracy,  it  would  seem,  is  not  confined  to  Paris, 
then  ?  Ah  no,  whatsoever  Courtiers  might  talk ;  too  clearly 
no.  This  of  dying  for  one’s  King  is  grown  into  a  dying  for 
one’s  self,  against  the  King,  if  need  be. 

And  so  our  riding  and  running  Avalanche  and  Hurly-burly 
has  reached  the  Abyss,  Korff  Berline  foremost ;  and  may  pour 
itself  thither,  and  jumble :  endless  !  Por  the  next  six  hours, 
need  we  ask  if  there  was  a  clattering  far  and  wide  ?  Clatter¬ 
ing  and  tocsining  and  hot  tumult,  over  all  the  Clermontais, 
spreading  through  the  Three  Bishoprics  :  Dragoon  and  Hus¬ 
sar  Troops  galloping  on  roads  and  no-roads  ;  National  Guards 
arming  and  starting  in  the  dead  of  night ;  tocsin  after  tocsin 
transmitting  the  alarm.  In  some  forty  minutes,  Goguelat  and 
Choiseul,  with  their  wearied  Hussars,  reach  Varennes.  Ah, 
it  is  no  fire,  then ;  or  a  fire  difficult  to  quench  !  They  leap 
the  tree-barricades,  in  spite  of  National  sergeant ;  they  enter 
the  village,  Choiseul  instructing  his  Troopers  how  the  matter 
really  is ;  who  respond  interjectionally,  in  their  guttural  dia- 


Chap.  VII.  THE  NIGHT  OF  SPURS.  35 

June  22. 

lect,  “  Der  Konig  ;  die  Koniginn  !  ”  and  seem  stanch.  These 
now,  in  their  stanch  humor,  will,  for  one  thing,  beset  Procu- 
reur  Sausse’s  house.  Most  beneficial :  had  not  Drouet  storm- 
fully  ordered  otherwise  ;  and  even  bellowed,  in  his  extremity, 
“  Cannoneers,  to  yonr  gnns  !  ”  —  two  old  honeycombed  Field- 
pieces,  empty  of  all  but  cobwebs ;  the  rattle  whereof,  as  the 
Cannoneers  with  assured  countenance  trundled  them  up,  did 
nevertheless  abate  the  Hussar  ardor,  and  produce  a  respect- 
fuler  ranking  farther  back.  Jugs  of  wine,  handed  over  the 
ranks,  —  for  the  German  throat  too  has  sensibility,  —  will 
complete  the  business.  When  Engineer  Goguelat,  some  hour 
or  so  afterwards,  steps  forth,  the  response  to  him  is  —  a  hic¬ 
cupping  Vive  la  Nation  ! 

What  boots  it  ?  Goguelat,  Choiseul,  now  also  Count  Damas, 
and  all  the  Varennes  Officiality  are  with  the  King ;  and  the 
King  can  give  no  order,  form  no  opinion ;  but  sits  there,  as  he 
has  ever  done,  like  clay  on  potter’s  wheel ;  perhaps  the  ab- 
surdest  of  all  pitiable  and  pardonable  clay-figures  that  now 
circle  under  the  Moon.  He  will  go  on,  next  morning,  and 
take  the  National  Guard  with  him;  Sausse  permitting!  Hap¬ 
less  Queen  :  with  her  two  children  laid  there  on  the  mean  bed, 
old  Mother  Sausse  kneeling  to  Heaven,  with  tears  and  an 
audible  prayer,  to  bless  them  ;  imperial  Marie-Antoinette  near 
kneeling  to  Son  Sausse  and  Wife  Sausse,  amid  candle-boxes 
and  treacle-barrels,  —  in  vain !  There  are  Three  Thousand 
National  Guards  got  in ;  before  long  they  will  count  Ten 
Thousand:  tocsins  spreading  like  fire  on  dry  heath,  or  far 
faster. 

Young  Bouille,  roused  by  this  Varennes  tocsin,  has  taken 
horse,  and  —  fled  towards  his  Father.  Thitherward  also  rides, 
in  an  almost  hysterically  desperate  manner,  a  certain  Sieur 
Aubriot,  Choiseul’s  Orderly  ;  swimming  dark  rivers,  our 
Bridge  being  blocked ;  spurring  as  if  the  Hell-Hunt  were  at 
his  heels.1  Through  the  village  of  Dun,  he  galloping  still  on, 
scatters  the  alarm  ;  at  Dun,  brave  Captain  Deslons  and  his 
Escort  of  a  Hundred  saddle  and  ride.  Deslons  too  gets  into 
Varennes  ;  leaving  his  Hundred  outside,  at  the  tree-barricade  ; 

1  Rapport  de  M.  Aubriot  (in  Choiseul,  pp.  150-157). 


36  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

offers  to  cut  King  Louis  out,  if  he  will  order  it :  but  unfortu¬ 
nately  “  the  work  will  prove  hot :  ”  whereupon  King  Louis 
has  “  no  orders  to  give.”  1 

And  so  the  tocsin  clangs,  and  Dragoons  gallop,  and  can  do 
nothing,  having  galloped  :  National  Guards  stream  in  like  the 
gathering  of  ravens :  your  exploding  Thunder-chain,  falling 
Avalanche,  or  what  else  we  liken  it  to,  does  play,  with  a  ven¬ 
geance, — up  now  as  far  as  Stenai  and  Bouille  himself.2  Brave 
Bouille,  son  of  the  whirlwind,  he  saddles  Royal-Allemand ; 
speaks  fire-words,  kindling  heart  and  eyes ;  distributes  twenty- 
five  gold  louis  a  company :  —  Ride,  Royal-Allemand,  long-famed : 
no  Tuileries  Charge  and  Necker-Orleans  Bust-Processions ;  a 
very  King  made  captive,  and  world  all  to  win !  —  Such  is  the 
Night  deserving  to  be  named  of  Spurs. 

At  six  o’clock  two  things  have  happened.  Lafayette’s  Aide- 
de-camp,  Romoeuf,  riding  a  franc  e trier ,  on  that  old  Herb- 
merchant’s  route,  quickened  during  the  last  stages,  has  got  to 
Yarennes ;  where  the  Ten  Thousand  now  furiously  demand, 
with  fury  of  panic  terror,  that  Royalty  shall  forthwith  return 
Paris-ward,  that  there  be  not  infinite  bloodshed.  Also,  on  the 
other  side,  “  English  Tom,”  Choiseul’s  jokei ,  flying  with  that 
Choiseul  relay,  has  met  Bouille  on  the  heights  of  Dun;  the 
adamantine  brow  flushed  with  dark  thunder ;  thunderous  rattle 
of  Royal-Allemand  at  his  heels.  English  Tom  answers  as  he 
can  the  brief  question,  How  is  it  at  Varennes  ?  —  then  asks  in 
turn,  What  he,  English  Tom,  with  M.  de  Choiseul’s  horses,  is 
to  do,  and  whither  to  ride  ?  —  To  the  Bottomless  Pool !  an¬ 
swers  a  thunder-voice ;  then  again  speaking  and  spurring, 
orders  Royal-Allemand  to  the  gallop  ;  and  vanishes,  swearing 
( enjurant ).8  ’T  is  the  last  of  our  brave  Bouille.  Within  sight 
of  Varennes,  he  having  drawn  bridle,  calls  a  council  of  officers ; 
finds  that  it  is  in  vain.  King  Louis  has  departed,  consenting : 
amid  the  clangor  of  universal  storm-bell ;  amid  the  tramp  of 
Ten  Thousand  armed  men,  already  arrived  ;  and  say,  of  Sixty 

1  Extrait  d’un  Rapport  de  M.  Deslons  (in  Choiseul,  pp.  164-167). 

2  Bouille,  ii.  74-76. 

8  Declaration  du  Sieur  Thomas  (in  Choiseul,  p.  188). 


THE  RETURN. 


37 


Chap.  VIII. 

June  22. 

Thousand  flocking  thither.  Brave  Heslons,  even  without  “  or¬ 
ders,”  darted  at  the  River  Aire  with  his  Hundred  ; 1  swam  one 
branch  of  it,  could  not  the  other;  and  stood  there,  dripping 
and  panting,  with  inflated  nostril ;  the  Ten  Thousand  answer¬ 
ing  him  with  a  shout  of  mockery,  the  new  Berline  lumbering 
Paris-ward  its  weary  inevitable  way.  No  help,  then,  in  Earth ; 
n@r,  in  an  age  not  of  miracles,  in  Heaven ! 

That  night,  “  Marquis  de  Bouille  and  twenty-one  more  of 
us  node  over  the  Frontiers :  the  Bernardine  monks  at  Orval 
in  Luxemburg  gave  us  supper  and  lodging.” 2  With  little  of 
speech,  Bouille  rides ;  with  thoughts  that  do  not  brook  speech. 
Northward,  towards  uncertainty,  and  the  Cimmerian  Night : 
towards  West-Indian  Isles,  for  with  thin  Emigrant  delirium 
the  son  of  the  whirlwind  cannot  act ;  towards  England,  to¬ 
wards  premature  Stoical  death ;  not  towards  France  any  more. 
Honor  to  the  Brave ;  who,  be  it  in  this  quarrel  or  in  that,  is  a 
substance  and  articulate-speaking  piece  of  human  Valor,  not  a 
fanfaronading  hollow  Spectrum  and  squeaking  and  gibbering 
Shadow !  One  of  the  few  Royalist  Chief-actors  this  Bouille, 
of  whom  so  much  can  be  said. 

The  brave  Bouille  too,  then,  vanishes  from  the  tissue  of  our 
Story.  Story  and  tissue,  faint  ineffectual  Emblem  of  that 
grand  Miraculous  Tissue,  and  Living  Tapestry  named  French 
Revolution ,  which  did  weave  itself  then  in  very  fact,  “  on  the 
loud-sounding  Loom  of  Time  ”  !  The  old  Brave  drop  out  from 
it,  with  their  strivings  ;  and  new  acrid  Drouets,  of  new  striv¬ 
ings  and  color,  come  in :  — as  is  the  manner  of  that  weaving. 


.  ♦ 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  RETURN. 

So,  then,  our  grand  Royalist  Plot,  of  Flight  to  Metz,  has 
executed  itself.  Long  hovering  in  the  background,  as  a  dread 
royal  ultimatum ,  it  has  rushed  forward  in  its  terrors :  verily 
1  Weber,  ii.  386.  2  Aubriot,  ut  supr&,  p.  158. 


38  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

to  some  purpose.  How  many  Royalist  Plots  and  Projects,  one 
after  another,  cunningly  devised,  that  *were  to  explode  like 
powder-mines  and  thunder-claps ;  not  one  solitary  Plot  of 
which  has  issued  otherwise  !  Powder-mine  of  a  Seance  Hoy- 
ale  on  the  Twenty-third  of  June,  1789,  which  exploded  as  we 
then  said,  “  through  the  touch-hole ;  ”  which  next,  your  war-god 
.  Broglie  having  reloaded  it,  brought  a  Bastille  about  your  ears. 
Then  came  fervent  Opera-Repast,  with  flourishing  of  sabres, 
and  0  Richard ,  0  my  King  !  which,  aided  by  Hunger,  produces 
Insurrection  of  Women,  and  Pallas  Athene  in  the  shape  of 
Demoiselle  Theroigne.  Valor  profits  not ;  neither  has  fortune 
smiled  on  fanfaronade.  The  Bouille  armament  ends  as  the 
Broglie  one  had  done.  Man  after  man  spends  himself  in  this 
cause,  only  to  work  it  quicker  ruin  ;  it  seems  a  cause  doomed, 
forsaken  of  Earth  and  Heaven. 

On  the  Sixth  of  October  gone  a  year,  King  Louis,  escorted 
by  Demoiselle  Theroigne  and  some  two  hundred  thousand, 
made  a  Royal  Progress  and  Entrance  into  Paris,  such  as  man 
had  never  witnessed ;  we  prophesied  him  Two  more  such : 
and  accordingly  another  of  them,  after  this  Flight  to  Metz,  is 
now  coming  to  pass.  Theroigne  will  not  escort  here  ;  neither 
does  Mirabeau  now  “sit  in  one  of  the  accompanying  car¬ 
riages.”  Mirabeau  lies  dead,  in  the  Pantheon  of  Great  Men. 
Theroigne  lies  living,  in  dark  Austrian  Prison ;  having  gone 
to  Li4ge,  professionally,  and  been  seized  there.  Bemurmured 
now  by  the  hoarse-flowing  Danube  :  the  light  of  her  Patriot 
Supper-parties  gone  quite  out ;  so  lies  Theroigne :  she  shall 
speak  with  the  Kaiser  face  to  face,  and  return.  And  France 
lies  —  how  !  Fleeting  Time  shears  down  the  great  and  the 
little ;  and  in  two  years  alters  many  things. 

But  at  all  events,  here,  we  say,  is  a  second  Ignominious 
Royal  Procession,  though  much  altered ;  to  be  witnessed  also 
by  its  hundreds  of  thousands.  Patience,  ye  Paris  Patriots ; 
the  Royal  Berline  is  returning.  Not  till  Saturday  :  for  the 
Royal  Berline  travels  by  slow  stages  ;  amid  such  loud-voiced 
confluent  sea  of  National  Guards,  sixty  thousand  as  they 
count ;  amid  such  tumult  of  all  people.  Three  National- 
Assembly  Commissioners,  famed  Barnave,  famed  P4tion,  gen- 


THE  RETURN. 


39 


Chap.  VIII. 

June  25. 

erally  respectable  Latour-Maubourg,  have  gone  to  meet  it ;  of 
whom  the  two  former  ride  in  the  Berline  itself  beside  Maj¬ 
esty,  day  after  day.  Latour,  as  a  mere  respectability,  and 
man  of  whom  all  men  speak  well,  can  ride  in  the  rear,  with 
Dame  de  Tourzel  and  the  Soubrettes. 

So  on  Saturday  evening,  about  seven  o’clock,  Paris  by  hun¬ 
dreds  of  thousands  is  again  drawn  up :  not  now  dancing  the 
tricolor  joy-dance  of  hope ;  nor  as  yet  dancing  in  fury-dance 
of  hate  and  revenge  :  but  in  silence,  with  vague  look  of  conjec¬ 
ture,  and  curiosity  mostly  scientific.  A  Saint- Antoine  Placard 
has  given  notice  this  morning  that  “  whosoever  insults  Louis 
shall  be  caned,  whosoever  applauds  him  shall  be  hanged.” 
Behold  then,  at  last,  that  wonderful  New  Berline  ;  encircled 
by  blue  National  sea  with  fixed  bayonets,  which  flows  slowly, 
floating  it  on,  through  the  silent  assembled  hundreds  of  thou¬ 
sands.  Three  yellow  Couriers  sit  atop  bound  with  ropes  ; 
Petion,  Barnave,  their  Majesties,  with  Sister  Elizabeth,  and 
the  Children  of  France,  are  within. 

Smile  of  embarrassment,  or  cloud  of  dull  sourness,  is  on  the 
broad  phlegmatic  face  of  his  Majesty  ;  who  keeps  declaring  to 
the  successive  Official  persons,  what  is  evident,  “  Eh  bien ,  me 
voila,  Well,  here  you  have  me;”  and  what  is  not  evident,  “I 
do  assure  you  I  did  not  mean  to  pass  the  frontiers ;  ”  and  so 
forth :  speeches  natural  for  that  poor  Royal  Man ;  which 
Decency  would  veil.  Silent  is  her  Majesty,  with  a  look  of 
grief  and  scorn ;  natural  for  that  Royal  Woman.  Thus  lum¬ 
bers  and  creeps  the  ignominious  Royal  Procession,  through 
many  streets,  amid  a  silent-gazing  people  :  comparable,  Mer- 
cier  thinks,1  to  some  Procession  du  Roi  de  Basoche ;  or  say, 
Procession  of  King  Crispin,  with  his  Dukes  of  Sutormania 
and  royal  blazonry  of  Cordwainery.  Except  indeed  that  this 
is  not  comic ;  ah  no,  it  is  comico-'tragic  ;  with  bound  Couriers, 
and  a  Doom  hanging  over  it ;  most  fantastic,  yet  most  misera¬ 
bly  real.  Miserablest  flebile  ludibrium  of  a  Pickle-herring 
Tragedy !  It  sweeps  along  there,  in  most  ^gorgeous  pall, 
through  many  streets  in  the  dusty  summer  evening ;  gets 
itself  at  length  wriggled  out  of  sight ;  vanishing  in  the  Tuile- 

1  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  22. 


40  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

3791. 

ries  Palace,  —  towards  its  doom,  of  slow  torture,  peine  forte 
et  dure. 

Populace,  it  is  true,  seizes  the  three  rope-bound  yellow 
Couriers ;  will  at  least  massacre  them.  But  our  august  As¬ 
sembly,  which  is  sitting  at  this  great  moment,  sends  out  Depu¬ 
tation  of  rescue  ;  and  the  whole  is  got  huddled  up.  Barnave 
“  all  dusty,”  is  already  there,  in  the  National  Hall ;  making 
brief  discreet  address  and  report.  As  indeed,  through  the 
whole  journey,  this  Barnave  has  been  most  discreet,  sympa¬ 
thetic  ;  and  has  gained  the  Queen’s  trust,  whose  noble  instinct 
teaches  her  always  who  is  to  be  trusted.  Very  different  from 
heavy  Petion  ;  who,  if  Campan  speak  truth,  ate  his  luncheon, 
comfortably  filled  his  wine-glass,  in  the  Royal  Berline  ;  flung 
out  his  chicken-bones  past  the  nose  of  Royalty  itself ;  and,  on 
the  King’s  saying,  “  France  cannot  be  a  Republic,”  answered, 
“No,  it  is  not  ripe  yet.”  Barnave  is  henceforth  a  Queen’s 
adviser,  if  advice  could  profit :  and  her  Majesty  astonishes 
Dame  Campan  by  signifying  almost  a  regard  for  Barnave  ; 
and  that,  in  a  day  of  retribution  and  Royal  triumph,  Barnave 
shall  not  be  executed.1 

On  Monday  night  Royalty  went ;  on  Saturday  evening  it 
returns  :  so  much,  within  one  short  week,  has  Royalty  accom¬ 
plished  for  itself.  The  Pickle-herring  Tragedy  has  vanished 
in  the  Tuileries  Palace,  towards  “pain  strong  and  hard.” 
Watched,  fettered  and  humbled,  as  Royalty  never  was. — 
Watched  even  in  its  sleeping-apartments  and  inmost  recesses  : 
for  it  has  to  sleep  with  door  set  ajar,  blue  National  Argus 
watching,  his  eye  fixed  on  the  Queen’s  curtains  ;  nay,  on  one 
occasion,  as  the  Queen  cannot  sleep,  he  offers  to  sit  by  her 
pillow,  and  converse  a  little ! 2 


1  Campan,  ii.  c.  18. 


2  lb.  ii.  149. 


Chap.  IX. 
July  17. 


SHARP  SHOT. 


41 


# 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SHARP  SHOT. 

• 

In  regard  to  all  which,  this  most  pressing  question  arises  : 
What  is  to  be  done  with  it  ?  Depose  it !  resolutely  answer 
Robespierre  and  the  thoroughgoing  few.  For,  truly,  with  a 
King  who  runs  away,  and  needs  to  be  watched  in  his  very 
bedroom  that  he  may  stay  and  govern  you,  what  other  reason¬ 
able  thing  can  be  done  ?  Had  Philippe  d’ Orleans  not  been  a 
caput  mortuum !  But  of  him,  known  as  one  defunct,  no  man 
now  dreams.  Depose  it  not ;  say  that  it  is  inviolable,  that  it 
was  spirited  away,  was  enleve  ;  at  any  cost  of  sophistry  and 
solecism,  re-establish  it !  so  answer  with  loud  vehemence  all 
manner  of  Constitutional  Royalists  ;  as  all  your  pure  Royal¬ 
ists  do  naturally  likewise,  with  low  vehemence,  and  rage  com¬ 
pressed  by  fear,  still  more  passionately  answer.  Kay  Barnave 
and  the  two  Lameths,  and  what  will  follow  them,  do  likewise 
answer  so.  Answer,  with  their  whole  might :  terror-struck  at 
the  unknown  Abysses  on  the  verge  of  which,  driven  thither 
by  themselves  mainly,  all  now  reels,  ready  to  plunge. 

By  mighty  effort  and  combination,  this  latter  course  is  the 
course  fixed  on ;  and  it  shall  by  the  strong  arm,  if  not  by  the 
clearest  logic,  be  made  good.  With  the  sacrifice  of  all  their 
hard-earned  popularity,  this  notable  Triumvirate,  says  Toulon- 
geon,  “  set  the  Throne  up  again,  which  they  had  so  toiled  to 
overturn :  as  one  might  set  up  an  overturned  pyramid,  on  its 
vertex ;  ”  to  stand  so  long  as  it  is  held. 

Unhappy  France ;  unhappy  in  King,  Queen  and  Constitu¬ 
tion  ;  one  knows  not  in  which  unhappiest !  Was  the  meaning 
of  our  so  glorious  French  Revolution  this,  and  no  other,  That 
when  Shams  and  Delusions,  long  soul-killing,  had  become 
body-killing,  and  got  the  length  of  Bankruptcy  and  Inanition, 
a  great  People  rose  and,  with  one  voice,  said,  in  the  Name  of 


42 


VARENNES. 


Book  XI. 

1791. 

the  Highest :  Shams  shall  be  no  more  ?  So  many  sorrows  and 
bloody  horrors,  endured,  and  to  be  yet  endured  through  dismal 
coming  centuries,  were  they  not  the  heavy  price  paid  and 
payable  for  this  same :  Total  Destruction  of  Shams  from 
among  men  ?  And  now,  0  Barnave  Triumvirate  !  is  it  in  such 
e&m&fe-distilled  Delusion,  and  Sham  even  of  a  Sham,  that  an 
effort  of  this  kind  will  rest  acquiescent  ?  Messieurs  of  the 
popular  Triumvirate,  never  !  — r-  But,  after  all,  what  can  poor 
popular  Triumvirates,  and  fallible  august  Senators,  do  ?  They 
can,  when  the  Truth  is  all  too  horrible,  stick  their  heads  ostrich¬ 
like  into  what  sheltering  Fallacy  is  nearest ;  and  wait  there, 
a  posteriori. 


Readers  who  saw  the  Clermontais  and  Three  Bishoprics 
gallop  in  the  Night  of  Spurs ;  Diligences  ruffling  up  all  France 
into  one  terrific  terrified  Cock  of  India ;  and  the  Town  of 
Nantes  in  its  shirt,  —  may  fancy  what  an  affair  to  settle  this 
was.  Robespierre,  on  the  extreme  Left,  with  perhaps  Petion 
and  lean  old  Gfoupil,  for  tjie  very  Triumvirate  has  defalcated, 
are  shrieking  hoarse  ;  drowned  in  Constitutional  clamor.  But 
the  debate  and  arguing  of  a  whole  Nation ;  the  bello wings 
through  all  J ournals,  for  and  against ;  the  reverberant  voice  of 
Danton  j  the  Hyperion  shafts  of  Camille,  the  porcupine-quills 
of  implacable  Marat :  —  conceive  all  this. 

Constitutionalists  in  a  body,  as  we  often  predicted,  do  now 
recede  from  the  Mother  Society,  and  become  Feuillans  ;  threat¬ 
ening  her  with  inanition,  the  rank  and  respectability  being 
mostly  gone.  Petition  after  Petition,  forwarded  by  Post,  or 
borne  in  Deputation,  comes  praying  for  Judgment  and  De- 
cheance ,  which  is  our  name  for  Deposition ;  praying,  at  lowest, 
for  Reference  to  the  Eighty-three  Departments  of  France. 
Hot  Marseillese  Deputation  comes  declaring,  among  other 
things  :  “  Our  Phocean  Ancestors  flung  a  Bar  of  Iron  into  the 
Bay  at  their  first  landing ;  this  Bar  will  float  again  on  the 
Mediterranean  brine  before  we  consent  to  be  slaves/’  All  this 
for  four  weeks  or  more,  while  the  matter  still  hangs  doubtful ; 
Emigration  streaming  with  double  violence  over  the  frontiers  ; 1 

1  Bourne,  ii.  101. 


SHARP  SHOT. 


43 


Chap.  IX. 

July  17. 

France  seething  in  fierce  agitation  of  this  question  and  prize- 
question  :  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  fugitive  Hereditary 
Representative  ? 

Finally,  on  Friday  the  15th  of  July,  1791,  the  ‘National  As¬ 
sembly  decides  ;  in  what  negatory  manner  we  know.  Where¬ 
upon  the  Theatres  all  close,  the  Bourne- stones  and  Portable- 
chairs  begin  spouting.  Municipal  Placards  flaming  on  the 
walls,  and  Proclamations  published  by  sound  of  trumpet, 
“  invite  to  repose  ;  ”  with  small  effect.  And  so,  on  Sunday  the 
17th,  there  shall  be  a  thing  ‘seen,  worthy  of  remembering. 
Scroll  of  a  Petition,  drawn  up  by  Brissots,  Dantons,  by  Cor¬ 
deliers,  Jacobins;  for  the  thing  was  infinitely  shaken  and 
manipulated,  and  many  had  a  hand  in  it :  such  Scroll  lies  now 
visible,  on  the  wooden  framework  of  the  Fatherland’s  Altar, 
for  signature.  Unworking  Paris,  male  and  female,  is  crowding 
thither,  all  day,  to  sign  or  to  see.  Our  fair  Roland  herself  the 
eye  of  History  can  discern  there  “  in  the  morning ;  ” 1  not 
without  interest.  In  few  weeks  the  fair  Patriot  will  quit 
Paris,  yet  perhaps  only  to  return. 

But,  what  with  sorrow  of  balked  Patriotism,  what  with 
closed  theatres,  and  Proclamations  still  publishing  themselves 
by  sound  of  trumpet,  the  fervor  of  men’s  minds,  this  day,  is 
great.  Nay,  over  and  above,  there  has  fallen  out  an  incident, 
of  the  nature  of  Farce-Tragedy  and  Riddle  ;  enough  to  stimu¬ 
late  all  creatures.  Early  in  the  day,  a  Patriot  (or  some  say, 
it  was  a  Patriotess,  and  indeed  the  truth  is  undiscoverable), 
while  standing  on  the  firm  deal-board  of  Fatherland’s  Altar, 
feels  suddenly,  with  indescribable  torpedo-shock  of  amazement, 
his  bootsole  pricked  through  from  below;  clutches  up  sud¬ 
denly  this  electrified  bootsole  and  foot ;  discerns  next  instant 
—  the  point  of  a  gimlet  or  brad-awl  playing  up,  through  the 
firm  deal-board,  and  now  hastily  drawing  itself  back  !  Mystery, 
perhaps  Treason  ?  The  wooden  framework  is  impetuously 
broken  up ;  and  behold,  verily  a  mystery ;  never  explicable 
fully  to  the  end  of  the  world !  Two  human  individuals,  of 
mean  aspect,  one  of  them  with  a  wooden  leg,  lie  ensconced 
there,  gimlet  in  hand :  they  must  have  come  in  overnight ; 

1  Madame  Roland,  ii.  74. 


44  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

they  have  a  supply  of  provisions,  —  no  “  barrel  of  gunpowder  ” 
that  one  can  see  ;  they  affect  to  be  asleep ;  look  blank  enough, 
and  give  the  lamest  account  of  themselves.  “  Mere  curiosity  ; 
they  were  boring  up,  to  get  an  eye-hole  ;  to  see,  perhaps  (  with 
lubricity/  whatsoever,  from  that  new  point  of  vision,  could 
be  seen  :  ”  —  little  that  was  edifying,  one  would  think !  But  in¬ 
deed  what  stupidest  thing  may  not  human  Dulness,  Pruriency, 
Lubricity,  Chance  and  the  Devil,  choosing  Two  out  of  Half  a 
Million  idle  human  heads,  tempt  them  to  ? 1 

Sure  enough,  the  two  human  individuals  with  their  gimlet 
are  there.  Ill-starred  pair  of  individuals  !  For  the  result  of 
it  all  is,  that  Patriotism,  fretting  itself,  in  this  state  of  nervous 
excitability,  with  hypotheses,  suspicions  and  reports,  keeps 
questioning  these  two  distracted  human  individuals,  and  again 
questioning  them  ;  claps  them  into  the  nearest  Guard-house, 
clutches  them  out  again  ;  one  hypothetic  group  snatching  them 
from  another :  till  finally,  in  such  extreme  state  of  nervous 
excitability,  Patriotism  hangs  them  as  spies  of  Sieur  Motier ; 
and  the  life  and  secret  is  choked  out  of  them  forevermore. 
Forevermore,  alas !  Or  is  a  day  to  be  looked  for  when  these 
two  evidently  mean  individuals,  who  are  human  nevertheless, 
will  become  Historical  Riddles  ;  and,  like  him  of  the  Iron 
Mask  (also  a  human  individual,  and  evidently  nothing  more), 
—  have  their  Dissertations  ?  To  us  this  only  is  certain,  that 
they  had  a  gimlet,  provisions  and  a  wooden  leg ;  and  have 
died  there  on  the  Lanterne,  as  the  unluckiesb  fools  might 
die. 

And  so  the  signature  goes  on,  in  a  still  more  excited  manner. 
And  Chaumette,  for  Antiquarians  possess  the  very  Paper  to 
this  hour,2  —  has  signed  himself  “in  a  flowing  saucy  hand 
slightly  leaned;”  and  Hebert,  detestable  Pere  Duchesne ,  as  if 
“an  inked  spider  had  dropped  on  the  paper ;  ”  Usher  Maillard 
also  has  signed,  and  many  Crosses,  which  cannot  write.  And 
Paris,  through  its  thousand  avenues,  is  welling  to  the  Champ- 
de-Mars  and  from  it,  in  the  utmost  excitability  of  humor; 
central  Fatherland’s  Altar  quite  heaped  with  signing  Patriots 
and  Patriotesses ;  the  Thirty  benches  and  whole  internal  Space 
l  Hist.  Pari  xi.  104-107.  3  lb.  113,  &c. 


SHARP  SHOT. 


45 


Chap.  IX. 
July  17. 


crowded  with  on-lookers,  with  comers  and  goers;  one  regur¬ 
gitating  whirlpool  of  men  and  women  in  their  Sunday  clothes. 
All  which  a  Constitutional  Sieur  Motier  sees  ;  and  Bailly,  look¬ 
ing  into  it  with  his  long  visage  made  still  longer.  Auguring 
no  good ;  perhaps  Decheance  and  Deposition  after  all !  Stop 
it,  ye  Constitutional  Patriots  ;  fire  itself  is  quenchable,  —  yet 
only  quenchable  at  first. 

Stop  it,  truly :  but  how  stop  it  ?  Have  not  the  first  free 
People  of  the  universe  a  right  to  petition  ? — Happily,  if  also 
unhappily,  here  is  one  proof  of  riot :  these  two  human  indi¬ 
viduals  hanged  at  the  Lanterne.  Proof,  0  treacherous  Sieur 
Motier  ?  Were  they  not  two  human  individuals  sent  thith¬ 
er  by  thee  to  be  hanged  ;  to  be  a  pretext  for  thy  bloody 
Drapeau  Rouge?  This  question  shall  many  a  Patriot,  one 
day,  ask ;  and  answer  affirmatively,  strong  in  Preternatural 
Suspicion. 


Enough,  towards  half-past  seven  in  the  evening,  the  mere 
natural  eye  can  behold  this  thing:  Sieur  Motier,  with  Muni¬ 
cipals  in  scarf,  with  blue  National  Patrollotism,  rank  after 
rank,  to  the  clang  of  drums ;  wending  resolutely  to  the  Champ- 
de-Mars ;  Mayor  Bailly,  with  elongated  visage,  bearing,  as  in 
sad  duty  bound,  the  Drapeau  Rouge .  Howl  of  angry  derision 
rises  in  treble  and  bass  from  a  hundred  thousand  throats,  at 
the  sight  of  Martial  Law  ;  which  nevertheless,  waving  its  Red 
sanguinary  Flag,  advances  there,  from  the  Gros-Caillou  En¬ 
trance  ;  advances,  drumming  and  waving,  towards  Altar  of 
Fatherland.  Amid  still  wilder  howls,  with  objurgation,  obtes¬ 
tation;  with  flights  of  pebbles  and  mud,  saxa  et  fceces ;  with 
crackle  of  a  pistol-shot ;  —  finally  with  volley-fire  of  Patrollot- 
ism ;  levelled  muskets ;  roll  of  volley  on  volley  !  Precisely 
after  one  year  and  three  days,  our  sublime  Federation  Field 
is  wetted,  in  this  manner,  with  French  blood. 

Some  “  Twelve  unfortunately  shot,”  reports  Bailly,  counting 
by  units  ;  but  Patriotism  counts  by  tens  and  even  by  hundreds. 
Not  to  be  forgotten,  nor  forgiven  !  Patriotism  flies,  shrieking, 
execrating.  Camille  ceases  journalizing,  this  day ;  great  Dan- 
ton  with  Camille  and  Freron  have  taken  wing,  for  their  life ; 


46  VARENNES.  Book  XI. 

1791. 

Marat  burrows  deep  in  the  Earth,  and  is  silent.  Once  more 
Patrollotism  has  triumphed ;  one  other  time ;  but  it  is  the 
last. 

This  was  the  Royal  Flight  to  Varennes.  Thus  was  the 
Throne  overturned  thereby ;  but  thus  also  was  it  victoriously 
set  up  again  —  on  its  vertex ;  and  will  stand  while  it  can  be 
held. 


BOOK  XII. 

PARLIAMENT  FIRST. 


— — ♦ - 

CHAPTER  I. 

GRANDE  ACCEPTATION. 

In  the  last  nights  of  September,  when  the  autumnal  equinox 
is  past,  and  gray  September  fades  into  brown  October,  why  are 
the  Champs  Ely  sees  illuminated ;  why  is  Paris  dancing,  and 
flinging  fire-works  ?  They  are  gala-nights,  these  last  of  Sep¬ 
tember  ;  Paris  may  well  dance,  and  the  Universe :  the  Edifice 
of  the  Constitution  is  completed !  Completed ;  nay  revised ,  to 
see  that  there  was  nothing  insufficient  in  it ;  solemnly  proffered 
to  his  Majesty ;  solemnly  accepted  by  him,  to  the  sound  of 
cannon-salvos,  on  the  fourteenth  of  the  month.  And  now  by 
such  illumination,  jubilee,  dancing  and  fire-working,  do  we 
joyously  handsel  the  new  Social  Edifice,  and  first  raise  heat 
and  reek  there,  in  the  name  of  Hope. 

The  Revision,  especially  with  a  throne  standing  on  its  ver¬ 
tex,  has  been  a  work  of  difficulty,  of  delicacy.  In  the  way  of 
propping  and  buttressing,  so  indispensable  now,  something 
could  be  done ;  and  yet,  as  is  feared,  not  enough.  A  repent¬ 
ant  Barnave  Triumvirate,  our  Rabauts,  Duports,  Thourets,  and 
indeed  all  Constitutional  Deputies  did  strain  every  nerve :  but 
the  Extreme  Left  was  so  noisy ;  the  People  were  so  suspicious, 
clamorous  to  have  the  work  ended :  and  then  the  loyal  Right 
Side  sat  feeble-petulant  all  the  while,  and  as  it  were  pouting 
and  petting ;  unable  to  help,  had  they  even  been  willing.  The 
Two  Hundred  and  Ninety  had  solemnly  made  scission,  before 


48  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791. 

that ;  and  departed,  shaking  the  dust  off  their  feet.  To  such 
transcendency  of  fret,  and  desperate  hope  that  worsening  of 
the  bad  might  the  sooner  end  it  and  bring  back  the  good,  had 
our  unfortunate  loyal  Right  Side  now  come  ! 1 

However,  one  finds  that  this  and  the  other  little  prop  has 
been  added,  where  possibility  allowed.  Civil-list  and  Privy- 
purse  were  from  of  old  well  cared  for.  King’s  Constitutional 
Guard,  Eighteen  Hundred  loyal  men  from  the  Eighty-three 
Departments,  under  a  loyal  Duke  de  Brissac ;  this,  with  trust¬ 
worthy  Swiss  besides,  is  of  itself  something.  The  old  loyal 
Body-guards  are  indeed  dissolved,  in  name  as  well  as  in  fact ; 
and  gone  mostly  towards  Coblentz.  But  now  also  those  Sans- 
culottic  violent  Gardes  Erangaises,  or  Centre  Grenadiers,  shall 
have  their  mittimus  :  they  do  ere  long,  in  the  Journals,  not 
without  a  hoarse  pathos,  publish  their  Farewell  ;  “  wishing 
all  Aristocrats  the  graves  in  Paris  which  to  us  are  denied.”  2 
They  depart,  these  first  Soldiers  of  the  Revolution ;  they  hover 
very  dimly  in  the  distance  for  about  another  year ;  till  they 
can  be  remodelled,  new-named,  and  sent  to  fight  the  Austrians ; 
and  then  History  beholds  them  no  more.  A  most  notable 
Corps  of  men  ;  which  has  its  place  in  World-History ; —  though 
to  us,  so  is  History  written,  they  remain  mere  rubrics  of  men ; 
nameless;  a  shaggy  Grenadier  Mass,  crossed  with  buff-belts. 
And  yet  might  we  not  ask :  What  Argonauts,  what  Leonidas’ 
Spartans  had  done  such  a  work  ?  Think  of  their  destiny : 
since  that  May  morning,  some  three  years  ago,  when  they,  un¬ 
participating,  trundled  off  D’Espremenil  to  the  Calypso  Isles  ; 
since  that  July  evening,  some  two  years  ago,  when  they, 
participating  and  sacreing  with  knit  brows,  poured  a  volley 
into  BesenvaPs  Prince  de  Lambesc  !  History  waves  them 
her  mute  adieu. 

So  that  the  Sovereign  Power,  these  Sansculottic  Watch-dogs, 
more  like  wolves,  being  leashed  and  led  away  from  his  Tuile- 
ries,  breathes  freer.  The  Sovereign  Power  is  guarded  hence¬ 
forth  by  a  loyal  Eighteen  Hundred,  —  whom  Contrivance, 
under  various  pretexts,  may  gradually  swell  to  Six  Thousand; 
who  will  hinder  no  journey  to  Saint-Cloud.  The  sad  Yarennes 
1  Toulongeon,  ii.  56,  59.  3  Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  73. 


Chap.  I.  GRANDE  ACCEPTATION.  49 

Sept.  14-18. 

business  has  been  soldered  up  ;  cemented,  even  in  the  blood  of 
the  Champ-de-Mars,  these  two  months  and  more ;  and  indeed 
ever  since,  as  formerly,  Majesty  has  had  its  privileges,  its 
“  choice  of  residence,”  though,  for  good  reasons,  the  royal 
mind  u  prefers  continuing  in  Paris.”  Poor  royal  mind,  poor 
Paris  ;  that  have  to  go  mumming ;  enveloped  in  speciosities, 
in  falsehood  which  knows  itself  false ;  and  to  enact  mutually 
your  sorrowful  farce-tragedy,  being  bound  to  it;  and  on  the 
whole,  to  hope  always,  in  spite  of  hope  ! 

Nay,  now  that  his  Majesty  has  accepted  the  Constitution,  to 
the  sound  of  cannon-salvos,  who  would  not  hope  ?  Our  good 
King  was  misguided,  but  he  meant  well.  Lafayette  has  moved 
for  an  Amnesty,  for  universal  forgiving  and  forgetting  of 
Revolutionary  faults ;  and  now  surely  the  glorious  Revolution, 
cleared  of  its  rubbish,  is  complete  !  Strange  enough,  and 
touching  in  several  ways,  the  old  cry  of  Vive  le  Hoi  once  more 
rises  round  King  Louis  the  Hereditary  Representative.  Their 
Majesties  went  to  the  Opera;  gave  money  to  the  Poor:  the 
Queen  herself,  now  when  the  Constitution  is  accepted,  hears 
voice  of  cheering.  Bygone  shall  be  bygone ;  the  New  Era 
shall  begin  !  To  and  fro,  amid  those  lamp-galaxies  of  the 
Elysian  Fields,  the  Royal  Carriage  slowly  wends  and  rolls  ; 
everywhere  with  vivats,  from  a  multitude  striving  to  be  glad. 
Louis  looks  out,  mainly  on  the  variegated  lamps  and  gay 
human  groups,  with  satisfaction  enough  for  the  hour.  In  her 
Majesty’s  face,  “  under  that  kind  graceful  smile  a  deep  sadness 
is  legible.” 1  Brilliancies,  of  valor  and  of  wit  stroll  here  ob¬ 
servant  :  a  Dame  de  Stael,  leaning  most  probably  on  the  arm 
of  her  Narbonne.  She  meets  Deputies  ;  who  have  built  this 
Constitution ;  who  saunter  here  with  vague  communings,  not 
without  thoughts  whether  it  will  stand.  But  as  yet  melodious 
fiddle-strings  twang  and  warble  everywhere,  with  the  rhythm 
of  light  fantastic  feet ;  long  lamp-galaxies  fling  their  colored 
radiance ;  and  brass-lunged  Hawkers  elbow  and  bawl,  “  Grande 
Acceptation ,  Constitution  Monarchique :  ”  it  behooves  the  Son 
of  Adam  to  hope.  Have  not  Lafayette,  Barnave,  and  all  Con¬ 
stitutionalists  set  their  shoulders  handsomely  to  the  inverted 

1  De.  Stael,  Considerations,  i.  c.  23. 

VOL.  iv.  4 


50  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791. 

pyramid  of  a  throne  ?  Feuillans,  including  almost  the  whole 
Constitutional  Respectability  of  France,  perorate  nightly  from 
their  tribune  ;  correspond  through  all  Post-offices ;  denouncing 
unquiet  Jacobinism ;  trusting  well  that  its  time  is  nigh  done. 
Much  is  uncertain,  questionable  ;  but  if  the  Hereditary  Repre¬ 
sentative  be  wise  and  lucky,  may  one  not,  with  a  sanguine 
G-aelic  temper,  hope  that  he  will  get  in  motion  better  or 
worse  ;  that  what  is  wanting  to  him  will  gradually  be  gained 
and  added  ? 

For  the  rest,  as  we  must  repeat,  in  this  building  of  the  Con¬ 
stitutional  Fabric,  especially  in  this  Revision  of  it,  nothing 
that  one  could  think  of  to  give  it  new  strength,  especially  to 
steady  it,  to  give  it  permanence,  and  even  eternity,  has  been 
forgotten.  Biennial  Parliament,  to  be  called  Legislative,  As¬ 
sembled  Legislative  ;  with  Seven  Hundred  and  Forty-five  Mem¬ 
bers,  chosen  in  a  judicious  manner  by  the  “  active  citizens  ” 
alone,  and  even  by  electing  of  electors  still  more  active  :  this, 
with  privileges  of  Parliament,  shall  meet,  self-authorized  if 
need  be,  and  self-dissolved ;  shall  grant  money-supplies  and 
talk ;  watch  over  the  administration  and  authorities ;  discharge 
forever  the  functions  of  a  Constitutional  Great  Council,  Cob 
lective  Wisdom  and  National  Palaver  —  as  the  Heavens  will 
enable.  Our  First  biennial  Parliament,  which  indeed  has  been 
a-choosing  since  early  in  August,  is  now  as  good  as  chosen. 
Nay  it  has  mostly  got  to  Paris:  it  arrived  gradually.;  —  not 
without  pathetic  greeting  to  its  venerable  Parent,  the  now 
moribund  Constituent ;  and  sat  there  in  the  Galleries,  rever¬ 
ently  listening;  ready  to  begin,  the  instant  the  ground  were 
clear. 

Then  as  to  changes  in  the  Constitution  itself?  This,  im¬ 
possible  for  any  Legislative,  or  common  biennial  Parliament, 
and  possible  solely  for  some  resuscitated  Constituent  or  Na¬ 
tional  Convention,  is  evidently  one  of  the  most  ticklish  points. 
The  august  moribund  Assembly  debated  it  for  four  entire 
days.  Some  thought  a  change,  or  at  least  a  reviewal  and  new 
approval,  might  be  admissible  in  thirty  years,  some  even  went 
lower,  down  to  twenty,  nay  to  fifteen.  The  august  Assembly 
had  once  decided  for  thirty  years;  but  it  revoked  that,  on 


Chap.  I.  GRANDE  ACCEPTATION.  51 

Sept.  14-18. 

better  thoughts ;  and  did  not  fix  any  date  of  time,  but  merely 
some  vague  outline  of  a  posture  of  circumstances,  and,  on  the 
whole,  left  the  matter  hanging.1  Doubtless  a  National  Con¬ 
vention  can  be  assembled  even  within  the  thirty  years:  yet 
one  may  hope,  not;  but  that  Legislatives,  biennial  Parlia¬ 
ments  of  the  common  kind,  with  their  limited  faculty,  and 
perhaps  quiet  successive  additions  thereto,  may  suffice  for 
generations,  or  indeed  while  computed  Time  runs. 

Furthermore,  be  it  noted  that  no  member  of  this  Constitu¬ 
ent  has  been,  or  could  be,  elected  to  the  new  Legislative.  So 
noble-minded  were  these  Law-makers  !  cry  some :  and  Solon- 
like  would  banish  themselves.  So  splenetic !  cry  more  :  each 
grudging  the  other,  none  daring  to  be  outdone  in  self-denial  by 
the  other.  So  unwise  in  either  case  !  answer  all  practical  men. 
But  consider  this  other  self-denying  ordinance,  That  none  of 
us  can  be  King’s  Minister,  or  accept  the  smallest  Court  Ap¬ 
pointment,  for  the  space  of  four,  or  at  lowest  (and  on  long 
debate  and  Revision)  for  the  space  of  two  years !  So  moves 
the  incorruptible  sea-green  Robespierre ;  with  cheap  magna¬ 
nimity  he  ;  and  none  dare  be  Outdone  by  him.  It  was  such  a 
law,  not  superfluous  then ,  that  sent  Mirabeau  to  the  gardens 
of  Saint-Cloud,  under  cloak  of  darkness,  to  that  colloquy  of 
the  gods ;  and  thwarted  many  things.  Happily  and  unhappily 
there  is  no  Mirabeau  now  to  thwart. 

Welcomer  meanwhile,  welcome  surely  to  all  right  hearts,  is 
Lafayette’s  chivalrous  Amnesty.  Welcome  too  is  that  hard- 
wrung  Union  of  Avignon;  which  has  cost  us,  first  and  last, 
“ thirty  sessions  of  debate,”  and  so  much  else:  may  it  at 
length  prove  lucky !  Rousseau’s  statue  is  decreed :  virtuous 
Jean-Jacques,  Evangelist  of  the  Contrat  Social.  Not  Drouet 
of  Varennes ;  nor  worthy  Lataille,  master  of  the  old  world- 
famous  Tennis-Court  in  Versailles,  is  forgotten ;  but  each  has 
his  honorable  mention,  and  due  reward  in  money.2  Where¬ 
upon,  things  being  all  so  neatly  winded  up,  and  the  Deputa¬ 
tions,  and  Messages,  and  royal  and  other  ceremonials  having 
rustled  by  ;  and  the  King  having  now  affectionately  perorated 

1  Choix  de  Rapports,  &c.  (Paris,  1825),  vi.  239-317. 

2  Moniteur  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xi.  473). 


52 


PARLIAMENT  FIRST. 


Book  XII. 
1791. 


about  peace  and  tranquillization,  and  members  having  an¬ 
swered  “  Oui  !  oui  !  ”  with  effusion,  even  with  tears,  —  Presi¬ 
dent  Thouret,  he  of  the  Law  Reforms,  rises,  and,  with  a  strong 
voice,  utters  these  memorable  last-words  :  “  The  National 
Constituent  Assembly  declares  that  it  has  finished  its  mission ; 
and  that  its  sittings  are  all  ended.”  Incorruptible  Robes¬ 
pierre,  virtuous  Petion  are  borne  home  on  the  shoulders  of  the 
people  ;  with  vivats  heaven-high.  The  rest  glide  quietly  to 
their  respective  places  of  abode.  It  is  the  last  afternoon  of 
September,  1791 ;  on  the  morrow  morning  the  new  Legislative 
will  begin. 


So,  amid  glitter  of  illuminated  streets  and  Champs  Elys4es, 
and  crackle  of  fire-works  and  glad  deray,  has  the  first  National 
Assembly  vanished;  dissolving ,  as  they  well  say,  into  blank 
Time  ;  and  is  no  more.  National  Assembly  is  gone,  its  work 
remaining ;  as  all  Bodies  of  men  go,  and  as  man  himself  goes  : 
it  had  its  beginning,  and  must  likewise  have  its  end.  A  Phan¬ 
tasm-Reality  born  of  Time,  as  the  rest  of  us  are  ;  flitting  ever 
backwards  now  on  the  tide  of  Time ;  to  be  long  remembered 
of  men.  Very  strange  Assemblages,  Sanhedrims,  Amphictyon- 
ics,  Trades-Unions,  Ecumenic  Councils,  Parliaments  and  Con¬ 
gresses,  have  met  together  on  this  Planet,  and  dispersed  again ; 
but  a  stranger  Assemblage  than  this  august  Constituent,  or 
with  a  stranger  mission,  perhaps  never  met  there.  Seen  from 
the  distance,  this  also  will  be  a  miracle.  Twelve  Hundred 
human  individuals,  with  the  Gospel  of  Jean- Jacques  Rous¬ 
seau  in  their  pocket,  congregating  in  the  name  of  Twenty-five 
Millions,  with  full  assurance  of  faith,  to  “  make  the  Constitu¬ 
tion  :  ”  such  sight,  the  acme  and  main  product  of  the  Eigh¬ 
teenth  Century,  our  World  can  witness  once  only.  For  Time 
is  rich  in  wonders,  in  monstrosities  most  rich ;  and  is  observed 
never  to  repeat  himself,  or  any  of  his  Gospels  :  —  surely  least 
of  all,  this  Gospel  according  to  Jean- Jacques.  Once  it  was 
right  and  indispensable,  since  such  had  become  the  Belief  of 
men ;  but  once  also  is  enough. 

They  have  made  the  Constitution,  these  Twelve  Hundred 
Jean- Jacques  Evangelists ;  not  without  result.  Near  twenty- 


Chap.  I.  GRANDE  ACCEPTATION.  53 

Sept.  30. 

nine  months  they  sat,  with  various  fortune  ;  in  various  ca¬ 
pacity; —  always,  we  may  say,  in  that  capacity  of  car-borne 
Carroccio ,  and  miraculous  Standard  of  the  Revolt  of  Men, 
as  a  Thing  high  and  lifted  up ;  whereon  whosoever  looked 
might  hope  healing.  They  have  seen  much,  cannons  levelled 
on  them  ;  then  suddenly,  by  interposition  of  the  Powers,  the 
cannons  drawn  back;  and  a  war-god  Broglie  vanishing,  in 
thunder  not  his  own,  amid  the  dust  and  down-rushing  of  a 
Bastille  and  Old  Feudal  France.  They  have  suffered  some¬ 
what:  Royal  Session,  with  rain  and  Oath  of  the  Tennis- 
Court;  Nights  of  Pentecost;  Insurrections  of  Women.  Also 
have  they  not  done  somewhat  ?  Made  the  Constitution,  and 
managed  all  things  the  while ;  passed,  in  thesjs  twenty -nine 
months,  “  twenty-five  hundred  Decrees,”  which  on  the  average 
is  some  three  for  each  day,  including  Sundays  !  Brevity,  one 
finds,  is  possible,  at  times :  had  not  Moreau  de  St.  Mery  to  give 
three  thousand  orders  before  rising  from  his  seat  ?  —  There 
was  valor  (or  value)  in  these  men ;  and  a  kind  of  faith,  were 
it  only  faith  in  this,  That  cobwebs  are  not  cloth ;  that  a  Con¬ 
stitution  could  be  made.  Cobwebs  and  chimeras  ought  verily 
to  disappear  ;  for  a  Reality  there  is.  Let  formulas,  soul-kill¬ 
ing,  and  now  grown  body-killing,  insupportable,  begone,  in  the 
name  of  Heaven  and  Earth  !  —  Time,  as  we  say,  brought  forth 
these  Twelve  Hundred ;  Eternity  was  before  them,  Eternity 
behind :  they  worked,  as  we  all  do,  in  the  confluence  of  Two 
Eternities  ;  what  w'ork  was  given  them.  Say  not  that  it  was 
nothing  they  did.  Consciously  they  did  somewhat;  uncon¬ 
sciously  how  much  !  They  had  their  giants  and  their  dwarfs, 
they  accomplished  their  good  and  their  evil ;  they  are  gone, 
and  return  no  more.  Shall  they  not  go  with  our  blessing,  in 
these  circumstances  ;  with  our  mild  farewell  ? 

By  post,  by  diligence,  on  saddle  or  sole  ;  they  are  gone : 
towards  the  four  winds.  Not  a  few  over  the  marches,  to  rank 
at  Coblentz.  Thither  wended  Maury,  among  others ;  but  in 
the  end  towards  Rome,  —  to  be  clothed  there  in  red  Cardinal 
plush  ;  in  falsehood  as  in  a  garment ;  pet  son  (her  last  born  ?) 
of  the  Scarlet  Woman.  Talleyrand-Perigord,  excommunicated 
Constitutional  Bishop,  will  make  his  way  to  London :  to  be 


54  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791. 

Ambassador,  spite  of  the  Self-denying  Law ;  brisk  young  Mar¬ 
quis  Chauvelin  acting  as  Ambassador’s-Cloak.  In  London  too, 
one  finds  Petion  the  virtuous ;  harangued  and  haranguing, 
pledging  the  wine-cup  with  Constitutional  Reform-Clubs,  in 
solemn  tavern-dinner.  Incorruptible  Robespierre  retires  for  a 
little  to  native  Arras :  seven  short  weeks  of  quiet ;  the  last 
appointed  him  in  this  world.  Public  Accuser  in  the  Paris 
Department,  acknowledged  high-priest  of  the  Jacobins;  the 
glass  of  incorruptible  thin  Patriotism,  for  his  narrow  emphasis 
is  loved  of  all  the  narrow,  —  this  man  seems  to  be  rising, 
some-whither  ?  He  sells  his  small  heritage  at  Arras  ;  accom¬ 
panied  by  a  Brother  and  a  Sister,  he  returns,  scheming  out 
with  resolute,  timidity  a  small  sure  destiny  for  himself  and 
them,  to  his  old  lodging,  at  the  Cabinet-maker’s,  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore :  0  re  solute -tremulous  incorruptible  sea-green  man, 
towards  what  a  destiny  ! 

Lafayette,  for  his  part,  will  lay  down  the  command.  He 
retires  Cincinnatus-like  to  his  hearth  and  farm ;  but  soon 
leaves  them  again.  Our  National  Guard,  however,  shall 
henceforth  have  no  one  Commandant ;  but  all  Colonels  shall 
command  in  succession,  month  about.  Other  Deputies  we 
have  met,  or  Dame  de  Stael  has  met,  “  sauntering  in  a  thought¬ 
ful  manner  ;  ”  perhaps  uncertain  what  to  do.  Some,  as  Bar- 
nave,  the  Lameths,  and  their  Duport,  will  continue  here  in 
Paris ;  watching  the  new  biennial  Legislative,  Parliament  the 
First ;  teaching  it  to  walk,  if  so  might  be ;  and  the  Court  to 
lead  it. 

Thus  these  :  sauntering  in  a  thoughtful  manner  ;  travelling 
by  post  or  diligence, — whither  Fate  beckons.  Giant  Mira- 
beau  slumbers  in  the  Pantheon  of  Great  Men :  and  France  ? 
and  Europe?  —  The  brass-lunged  Hawkers  sing  “Grand  Ac¬ 
ceptation,  Monarchic  Constitution  ”  through  these  gay  crowds : 
the  Morrow,  grandson  of  Yesterday,  must  be  what  it  can,  as 
To-day  its  father  is.  Our  new  biennial  Legislative  begins  to 
constitute  itself  on  the  first  of  October,  1791. 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE, 


4 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
URBAN A 


Chap.  II. 
October. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LAW. 


55 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LAW. 

If  the  august  Constituent  Assembly  itself,  fixing  the  regards 
of  the  Universe,  could,  at  the  present  distance  of  time  and 
place,  gain  comparatively  small  attention  from  us,  how  much 
less  can  this  poor  Legislative  !  It  has  its  ■  Right  side  and  its 
Left ;  the  less  Patriotic  and  the  more,  for  Aristocrats  exist  not 
here  or  now :  it  spouts  and  speaks ;  listens  to  Reports,  reads 
Bills  and  Laws ;  works  in  its  vocation,  for  a  season :  but  the 
History  of  France,  one  finds,  is  seldom  or  never  there.  Un¬ 
happy  Legislative,  what  can  History  do  with  it ;  if  not  drop  a 
tear  over  it,  almost  in  silence  ?  First  of  the  two-year  Parlia¬ 
ments  of  France,  which,  if  Paper  Constitution  and  oft-repeated 
National  Oath  could  avail  aught,  were  to  follow  in  softly  strong 
indissoluble  sequence  while  Time  ran,  —  it  had  to  vanish  dole¬ 
fully  within  one  year ;  and  there  came  no  second  like  it.  Alas  ! 
your  biennial  Parliaments  in  endless  indissoluble  sequence ; 
they,  and  all  that  Constitutional  Fabric,  built  with  such  ex¬ 
plosive  Federation  Oaths,  and  its  top-stone  brought  out  with 
dancing  and  variegated  radiance,  went  to  pieces,  like  frail 
crockery,  in  the  crash  of  things ;  and  already,  in  eleven  short 
months,  were  in  that  Limbo  near  the  Moon,  with  the  ghosts  of 
other  Chimeras.  There,  except  for  rare  specific  purposes,  let 
them  rest,  in  melancholy  peace. 

On  the  whole,  how  unknown  is  a  man  to  himself ;  or  a 
public  Body  of  men  to  itself  !  HLsop’s  fly  sat  on  the  chariot- 
wheel,  exclaiming,  What  a  dust  I  do  raise  !  Great  Governors, 
clad  in  purple  with  fasces  and  insignia,  are  governed  by  their 
valets,  by  the  pouting  of  their  women  and  children ;  or,  in 
Constitutional  countries,  by  the  paragraphs  of  their  Able  Edi¬ 
tors.  Say  not,  I  am  this  or  that ;  I  am  doing  this  or  that ! 
For  thou  knowest  it  not,  thou  knowest  only  the  name  it  as  yet 


56  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791. 

goes  by.  A  purple  Nebuchadnezzar  rejoices  to  feel  himself 
now  verily  Emperor  of  this  great  Babylon  which  he  has 
builded ;  and  is  a  nondescript  biped-quadruped,  on  the  eve  of 
a  seven-years’  course  of  grazing !  These  Seven  Hundred  and 
Forty-five  elected  individuals  doubt  not  but  they  are  the  first 
biennial  Parliament,  come  to  govern  France  by  parliamentary 
eloquence :  and  they  are  what  ?  And  they  have  come  to  do 
what  ?  Things  foolish  and  not  wise  ! 

It  is  much  lamented  by  many  that  this  First  Biennial  had 
no  members  of  the  old  Constituent  in  it,  with  their  experience 
of  parties  and  parliamentary  tactics ;  that  such  was  their  fool¬ 
ish  Self-denying  Law.  Most  surely,  old  members  of  the  Con¬ 
stituent  had  been  welcome  to  us  here.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
what  old  or  what  new  members  of  any  Constituent  under  the 
Sun  could  have  effectually  profited  ?  There  are  first  biennial 
Parliaments  so  postured  as  to  be,  in  a  sense,  beyond  wisdom : 
where  wisdom  and  folly  differ  only  in  degree,  and  wreckage 
and  dissolution  are  the  appointed  issue  for  both. 

Old-Constituents,  your  Barnaves,  Lameths  and  the  like,  for 
whom  a  special  Gallery  has  been  set  apart,  where  they  may  sit 
in  honor  and  listen,  are  in  the  habit  of  sneering  at  these  new 
Legislators ; 1  but  let  not  us !  The  poor  Seven  Hundred  and 
Forty-five,  sent  together  by  the  active  citizens  of  France,  are 
what  they  could  be ;  do  what  is  fated  them.  That  they  are  of 
Patriot  temper  we  can  well  understand.  Aristocrat  Noblesse 
had  fled  over  the  marches,  or  sat  brooding  silent  in  their  un¬ 
burnt  Chateaus ;  small  prospect  had  they  in  Primary  Electoral 
Assemblies.  What  with  Flights  to  Varennes,  what  with  Days 
of  Poniards,  with  plot  after  plot,  the  People  are  left  to  them¬ 
selves  ;  the  People  must  needs  choose  Defenders  of  the  People, 
such  as  can  be  had.  Choosing,  as  they  also  will  ever  do,  “if 
not  the  ablest  man,  yet  the  man  ablest  to  be  chosen  ”  !  Fervor 
of  character,  decided  Patriot-Constitutional  feeling ;  these  are 
qualities  :  but  free  utterance,  mastership  in  tongue-fence ;  this 
is  the  quality  of  qualities.  Accordingly  one  finds,  with  little 
astonishment,  in  this  First  Biennial,  that  as  many  as  Four 
Hundred  Members  are  of  the  Advocate  or  Attorney  species. 

1  Dumouriez,  ii.  150,  &c. 


Chap.  II.  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LAW.  57 

October. 

Men  who  can  speak,  if  there  be  aught  to  speak :  nay  here  are 
men  also  who  can  think,  and  even  act.  Candor  will  say  of 
this  ill-fated  First  French  Parliament,  that  it  wanted  not  its 
modicum  of  talent,  its  modicum  of  honesty ;  that  it,  neither  in 
the  one  respect  nor  in  the  other,  sank  below  the  average  of 
Parliaments,  but  rose  above  the  average.  Let  average  Parlia¬ 
ments,  whom  the  world  does  not  guillotine,  and  cast  forth  to 
long  infamy,  be  thankful  not  to  themselves  but  to  their  stars  F 

France,  as  we  say,  has  once  more  done  what  it  could :  fervid 
men  have  come  together  from  wide  separation ;  for  strange 
issues.  Fiery  Max  Isnard  is  come,  from  the  utmost  South¬ 
east  ;  fiery  Claude  Fauchet,  Te-Deum  Fauchet  Bishop  of  Calva¬ 
dos,  from  the  utmost  Northwest.  No  Mirabeau  now  sits  here, 
who  had  swallowed  formulas  :  our  only  Mirabeau  now  is  Dan- 
ton,  working  as  yet  out  of  doors  ;  whom  some  call  “  Mirabeau 
of  the  Sansculottes.” 

Nevertheless  we  have  our  gifts,  —  especially  of  speech  and 
logic.  An  eloquent  Vergniaud  we  have  ;  most  mellifluous  yet 
most  impetuous  of  public  speakers ;  from  the  region  named 
Gironde,  of  the  Garonne  :  a  man  unfortunately  of  indolent 
habits ;  who  will  sit  playing  with  your  children,  when  he 
ought  to  be  scheming  and  perorating.  Sharp-bustling  Guadet ; 
considerate  grave  Gensonne;  kind-sparkling  mirthful  young 
Ducos;  Valaze  doomed  to  a  sad  end  :  all  these  likewise  are  of 
that  Gironde  or  Bordeaux  region :  men  of  fervid  Constitutional 
principles ;  of  quick  talent,  irrefragable  logic,  clear  respecta¬ 
bility  ;  who  will  have  the  Reign  of  Liberty  establish  itself, 
but  only  by  respectable  methods.  Round  whom  others  of  like 
temper  will  gather ;  known  by  and  by  as  Girondins,  to  the 
sorrowing  wonder  of  the  world.  Of  which  sort  note  Condor- 
cet,  Marquis  and  Philosopher ;  who  has  worked  at  much,  at 
Paris  Municipal  Constitution,  Differential  Calculus,  Newspaper 
Chronique  de  Paris,  Biography,  Philosophy ;  and  now  sits  here 
as  two-years’  Senator  :  a  notable  Condorcet,  with  stoical  Roman 
face  and  fiery  heart ;  “  volcano  hid  under  snow ;  ”  styled  like¬ 
wise,  in  irreverent  language,  “  mouton  enrage ,”  peaceablest  of 
creatures  bitten  rabid!  Or  note,  lastly,  Jean-Pierre  Brissot; 
whom  Destiny,  long  working  noisily  with  him,  has  hurled 


58  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

hither,  say,  to  have  done  with  him.  A  biennial  Senator  he 
too ;  nay,  for  the  present,  the  king  of  such.  Restless,  schem¬ 
ing,  scribbling  Brissot ;  who  took  to  himself  the  style  de  War - 
ville,  heralds  know  not  in  the  least  why ;  —  unless  it  were  that 
the  father  of  him  did,  in  an  unexceptionable  manner,  perform 
Cookery  and  Vintnery  in  the  Village  of  Ouarv ille  ?  A  man  of 
the  windmill  species,  that  grinds  always,  turning  towards  all 
winds ;  not  in  the  steadiest  manner. 

In  all  these  men  there  is  talent,  faculty  to  work  ;  and  they 
will  do  it:  working  and  shaping,  not  without  effect,  though 
alas  not  in  marble,  only  in  quicksand !  —  But  the  highest 
faculty  of  them  all  remains  yet  to  be  mentioned ;  or  indeed 
has  yet  to  unfold  itself  for  mention :  Captain  Hippolyte  Car¬ 
not,  sent  hither  from  the  Pas  de  Calais ;  with  his  cold  mathe¬ 
matical  head,  and  silent  stubbornness  of  will:  iron  Carnot, 
far-planning,  imperturbable,  unconquerable ;  who,  in  the  hour 
of  need,  shall  not  be  found  wanting.  His  hair  is  yet  black ; 
and  it  shall  grow  gray,  under  many  kinds  of  fortune,  bright 
and  troublous ;  and  with  iron  aspect  this  man  shall  face 
them  all. 

Nor  is  Cote  Droit ,  and  band  of  King’s  friends,  wanting: 
Vaublanc,  Dumas,  Jaucourt  the  honored  Chevalier ;  who  love 
Liberty,  yet  with  Monarchy  over  it ;  and  speak  fearlessly 
according  to  that  faith  ; — whom  the  thick-coming  hurricanes 
will  sweep  away.  With  them,  let  a  new  military  Theodore 
Lameth  be  named ;  —  were  it  only  for  his  two  Brothers’  sake, 
who  look  down  on  him,  approvingly  there,  from  the  Old- 
Constituents’  Gallery.  Frothy  professing  Pastorets,  honey¬ 
mouthed  conciliatory  Lamourettes,  and  speechless  nameless 
individuals  sit  plentiful,  as  Moderates,  in  the  middle.  Still 
less  is  a  Cote  Gauche  wanting :  extreme  Left ;  sitting  on  the 
topmost  benches,  as  if  aloft  on  its  speculatory  Height  or 
Mountain ,  which  will  become  a  practical  fulminatory  Height, 
and  make  the  name  of  Mountain  famous-infamous  to  all  times 
and  lands. 

Honor  waits  not  on  this  Mountain;  nor  as  yet  even  loud 
dishonor.  Gifts  it  boasts  not,  nor  graces,  of  speaking  or  of 
thinking;  solely  this  one  gift  of  assured  faith,  of  audacity 


Chap.  II.  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LAW.  59 

October 

that  will  defy  the  Earth  and  the  Heavens.  Foremost  here  are 
the  Cordelier  Trio  :  hot  Merlin  from  Thionville,  hot  Bazire, 
Attorneys  both  ;  Chabot,  disfrocked  Capuchin,  skilful  in  agio. 
Lawyer  Lacroix,  who  wore  once  as  subaltern  the  single  epau¬ 
lette,  has  loud  lungs  and  a  hungry  heart.  There  too  is 
Couthon,  little  dreaming  what  he  is ;  —  whom  a  sad  chance 
has  paralyzed  in  the  lower  extremities.  For,  it  seems,  he  sat 
once  a  whole  night,  not  warm  in  his  true-love’s  bower  (who 
indeed  was  by  law  another’s),  but  sunken  to  the  middle  in  a 
cold  peat-bog,  being  hunted  out  from  her ;  quaking  for  his  life, 
in  the  cold  quaking  morass ; 1  and  goes  now  on  crutches  to  the 
end.  Cambon  likewise,  in  whom  slumbers  undeveloped  such 
a  finance-talent  for  printing  of  Assignats ;  Father  of  Paper- 
money;  who,  in  the  hour  of  menace,  shall  utter  this  stern 
sentence,  “War  to  the  Manor-house,  peace  to  the  Hut,  Guerre 
aux  Chateaux ,  paix  aux  Chaumieres  !  ”  2  Lecointre,  the  in¬ 
trepid  Draper  of  Versailles,  is  welcome  here  ;  known  since 
the  Opera-Repast  and  Insurrection  of  Women.  Thuriot  too  ; 
Elector  Thuriot,  who  stood  in  the  embrasures  of  the  Bastilie, 
and  saw  Saint-Antoine  rising  in  mass ;  who  has  many  other 
things  to  see.  Last  and  grimmest  of  all,  note  old  Ruhl,  with 
his  brown  dusky  face  and  long  white  hair;  of  Alsacian  Lu¬ 
theran  breed ;  a  man  whom  age  and  book-learning  have  not 
taught ;  who,  haranguing  the  old  men  of  Rheims,  shall  hold 
up  the  Sacred  Ampulla  (Heaven-sent,  wherefrom  Clovis  and 
all  Kings  have  been  anointed)  as  a  mere  worthless  oil-bottle, 
and  dash  it  to  sherds  on  the  pavement  there  ;  who,  alas,  shall 
dash  much  to  sherds,  and  finally  his  own  wild  head  by  pistol- 
shot,  and  so  end  it. 

Such  lava  welters  red-hot  in  the  bowels  of  this  Mountain ; 
unknown  to  the  world  and  to  itself !  A  mere  commonplace 
Mountain  hitherto ;  distinguished  from  the  Plain  chiefly  by 
its  superior  barrenness ,  its  baldness  of  look :  at  the  utmost  it 
may,  to  the  most  observant,  perceptibly  smoke.  For  as  yet 
all  lies  so  solid,  peaceable ;  and  doubts  not,  as  was  said,  that 
it  will  endure  while  Time  runs.  Do  not  all  love  Liberty 
and  the  Constitution  ?  All  heartily ;  —  and  yet  with  degrees. 

1  Dumouriez,  ii.  370.  2  C/ioix  de  Rapports,  xi.  25. 


60  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Bqok  XII. 

1791-92. 

Some,  as  Chevalier  Jaucourt  and  his  Right  side,  may  love 
Liberty  less  than  Royalty,  were  the  trial  made ;  others,  as 
Brissot  and  his  Left  side,  may  love  it  more  than  Royalty. 
Nay  again,  of  these  latter  some  may  love  Liberty  more  than 
Law  itself ;  others  not  more.  Parties  will  unfold  themselves  ; 
no  mortal  as  yet  knows  how.  Forces  work  within  these  men 
and  without :  dissidence  grows  opposition ;  ever  widening ; 
waxing  into  incompatibility  and  internecine  feud ;  till  the 
strong  is  abolished  by  a  stronger ;  himself  in  his  turn  by  a 
strongest !  Who  can  help  it  ?  Jaucourt  and  his  Monarchists, 
Feuillans,  or  Moderates ;  Brissot  and  his  Brissotins,  Jacobins, 
or  Girondins ;  these,  with  the  Cordelier  Trio,  and  all  men, 
must  work  what  is  appointed  them,  and  in  the  way  appointed 
them. 

And  to  think  what  fate  these  poor  Seven  Hundred  and 
Forty-five  are  assembled,  most  unwittingly,  to  meet !  Let  no 
heart  be  so  hard  as  not  to  pity  them.  Their  soul’s  wish  was 
to  live  and  work  as  the  First  of  the  French  Parliaments ;  and 
make  the  Constitution  march.  Did  they  not,  at  their  very 
instalment,  go  through  the  most  affecting  Constitutional  cere¬ 
mony,  almost  with  tears  ?  The  Twelve  eldest  are  sent  sol¬ 
emnly  to  fetch  the  Constitution  itself,  the  printed  Book  of  the 
Law.  Archivist  Camus,  an  Old-Constituent  appointed  Archi¬ 
vist,  he  and  the  Ancient  Twelve,  amid  blare  of  military  pomp 
and  clangor,  enter,  bearing  the  divine  Book :  and  President 
and  all  Legislative  'Senators,  laying  their  hand  on  the  same, 
successively  take  the  Oath,  with  cheers  and  heart-effusion, 
universal  three-times-three.1  In  this  manner  they  begin  their 
Session.  Unhappy  mortals  !  For,  that  same  day,  his  Majesty 
having  received  their  Deputation  of  welcome,  as  seemed, 
rather  dryly,  the  Deputation  cannot  but  feel  slighted,  cannot 
but  lament  such  slight :  and  thereupon  our  cheering  swearing 
First  Parliament  sees  itself,  on  the  morrow,  obliged  to  explode 
into  fierce  retaliatory  sputter  of  anti-royal  Enactment  as  to 
how  they,  for  their  part,  will  receive  Majesty  ;  and  how  Maj¬ 
esty  shall  not  be  called  Sire  any  more,  except  they  please : 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  4  Octobre,  1791. 


Chap.  II.  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  LAW.  61 

1791-02. 

and  then,  on  the  following  day,  to  recall  this  Enactment  of 
theirs,  as  too  hasty,  and  a  mere  sputter,  though  not  unpro¬ 
voked. 

An  effervescent  well-intentioned  set  of  Senators ;  too  com¬ 
bustible,  where  continual  sparks  are  flying!  Their  History 
is  a  series  of  sputters  and  quarrels ;  true  desire  to  do  their 
function,  fatal  impossibility  to  do  it.  Denunciations,  repri- 
mandings  of  King’s  Ministers,  of  traitors  supposed  and  real ; 
hot  rage  and  fulmination  against  fulminating  Emigrants ; 
terror  of  Austrian  Kaiser,  of  “  Austrian  Committee  ”  in  the 
Tuileries  itself;  rage  and  haunting  terror,  haste  and  doubt 
and  dim  bewilderment !  —  Haste,  we  say  ;  and  yet  the  Consti¬ 
tution  had  provided  against  haste.  No  Bill  can  be  passed  till 
it  have  been  printed,  till  it  have  been  thrice  read,  with  inter¬ 
vals  of  eight  days ;  —  “  unless  the  Assembly  shall  beforehand 
decree  that  there  is  urgency.”  Which  accordingly  the  As¬ 
sembly,  scrupulous  of  the  Constitution,  never  omits  to  do : 
Considering  this,  and  also  considering  that,  and  then  that 
other,  the  Assembly  decrees  always  “  qu’il  y  a  urgence ;”  and 
thereupon  “the  Assembly,  having  decreed  that  there  is  ur¬ 
gence,”  is  free  to  decree  —  what  indispensable  distracted  thing 
seems  best  to  it.  Two  thousand  and  odd  decrees,  as  men 
reckon,  within  Eleven  months  ! 1  The  haste  of  the  Constitu¬ 
ent  seemed  great ;  but  this  is  treble-quick.  For  the  time 
itself  is  rushing  treble-quick;  and  they  have  to  keep  pace 
with  that.  Unhappy  Seven  Hundred  and  Forty-five  :  true- 
patriotic,  but  so  combustible;  being  fired  they  must  needs 
fling  fire :  Senate  of  touchwood  and  rockets,  in  a  world  of 
smoke-storm,  with  sparks  wind-driven  continually  flying ! 

Or  think,  on  the  other  hand,  looking  forward  some  months, 
of  that  scene  they  call  Baiser  de  Lamourette  !  The  dangers  of 
the  country  are  now  grown  imminent,  immeasurable  ;  National 
Assembly,  hope  of  France,  is  divided  against  itself.  In  such 
extreme  circumstances,  honey-mouthed  Abbe  Lamourette,  new 
Bishop  of  Lyons,  rises,  whose  name,  Lamourette ,  signifies  the 
sweetheart ,  or  Delilah  doxy,  —  he  rises,  and,  with  pathetic 
honeyed  eloquence,  calls  on  all  august  Senators  to  forget 

1  Montgaillard,  iii.  1,  237. 


62  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

mutual  griefs  and  grudges,  to  swear  a  new  oath,  and  unite 
as  brothers.  Whereupon  they  all,  with  vivats,  embrace  and 
swear ;  Left  side  confounding  itself  with  Right ;  barren  Moun¬ 
tain  rushing  down  to  fruitful  Plain,  Pastoret  into  the  arms  of 
Condorcet,  injured  to  the  breast  of  injurer,  with  tears  :  and  all 
swearing  that  whosoever  wishes  either  Feuillant  Two-Chamber 
Monarchy  or  Extreme- Jacobin  Republic,  or  anything  but  the 
Constitution  and  that  only,  shall  be  anathema  maranatha.1 
Touching  to  behold !  For,  literally  on  the  morrow  morning, 
they  must  again  quarrel,  driven  by  Fate ;  and  their  sublime 
reconcilement  is  called  derisively  the  Baiser  de  Lamourette, 
or  Delilah  Kiss. 

Like  fated  Eteocles-Polynices  Brothers,  embracing,  though 
in  vain ;  weeping  that  they  must  not  love,  that  they  must  hate 
only,  and  die  by  each  other’s  hands !  Or  say,  like  doomed 
Familiar  Spirits ;  ordered,  by  Art  Magic  under  penalties,  to  do 
a  harder  than  twist  ropes  of  sand :  “  to  make  the  Constitution 
march.”  If  the  Constitution  would  but  march !  Alas,  the 
Constitution  will  not  stir.  It  falls  on  its  face ;  they  trem¬ 
blingly  lift  it  on  end  again  :  march,  thou  gold  Constitution  !  The 

Constitution  will  not  march.  —  “  He  shall  march,  by - !  ” 

said  kind  Uncle  Toby,  and  even  swore.  The  Corporal  an¬ 
swered  mournfully :  “  He  will  never  march  in  this  world.” 

A  Constitution,  as  we  often  say,  will  march  when  it  images, 
if  not  the  old  Habits  and  Beliefs  of  the  Constituted,  then 
accurately  their  Rights,  or  better  indeed  their  Mights ;  —  for 
these  two,  well  understood,  are  they  not  one  and  the  same  ? 
The  old  Habits  of  France  are  gone  :  her  new  Rights  and  Mights 
are  not  yet  ascertained,  except  in  Paper-theorem ;  nor  can  be, 
in  any  sort,  till  she  have  tried.  Till  she  have  measured  her¬ 
self,  in  fell  death-grip,  and  were  it  in  utmost  preternatural 
spasm  of  madness,  with  Principalities  and  Powers,  with  the 
upper  and  the  under,  internal  and  external;  with  the  Earth 
and  Tophet  and  the  very  Heaven !  Then  will  she  know.  — 
Three  things  bode  ill  for  the  marching  of  this  French  Consti¬ 
tution  :  the  French  People ;  the  French  King ;  thirdly,  the 
French  Noblesse  and  an  assembled  European  World. 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  6  Juillet,  1792. 


Chap.  III. 
1789-91. 


AVIGNON. 


63 


CHAPTER  III. 

AVIGNON. 

But  quitting  generalities,  what  strange  Fact  is  this,  in  the 
far  Southwest,  towards  which  the  eyes  of  all  men  do  now,  in 
the  end  of  October,  bend  themselves  ?  A  tragical  combustion, 
long  smoking  and  smouldering  unluminous,  has  now  burst  into 
flame  there. 

Hot  is  that  Southern  Provencal  blood:  alas,  collisions,  as 
was  once  said,  must  occur  in  a  career  of  Freedom ;  different 
directions  will  produce  such ;  nay  different  velocities  in  the 
same  direction  will !  To  much  that  went  on  there,  History, 
busied  elsewhere,  would  not  specially  give  heed :  to  troubles 
of  Uzez,  troubles  of  Nismes^  Protestant  and  Catholic,  Patriot 
and  Aristocrat ;  to  troubles  of  Marseilles,  Montpellier,  Arles  ; 
to  Aristocrat  Camp  of  Jales,  that  wondrous  real-imaginary 
Entity,  now  fading  pale-dim,  then  always  again  glowing  forth 
deep-hued  (in  the  imagination  mainly) ;  —  ominous  magical, 
“  an  Aristocrat  picture  of  war  done  naturally  ”  !  All  this  was 
a  tragical  deadly  combustion,  with  plot  and  riot,  tumult  by 
night  and  by  day ;  but  a  dark  combustion,  not  luminous,  not 
noticed ;  which  now,  however,  one  cannot  help  noticing. 

Above  all  places,  the  unluminous  combustion  in  Avignon 
and  the  Comtat  Venaissin  was  fierce.  Papal  Avignon,  with  its 
Castle  rising  sheer  over  the  Rhone-stream ;  beautifulest  Town, 
with  its  purple  vines  and  gold-orange  groves  ;  why  must  foolish 
old  rhyming  Rene,  the  last  Sovereign  of  Provence,  bequeath  it 
to  the  Pope  and  Gold  Tiara,  not  rather  to  Louis  Eleventh  with 
the  Leaden  Virgin  in  his  hat-band!  For  good  and  for  evil! 
Popes,  Antipopes,  with  their  pomp,  have  dwelt  in  that  Castle 
of  Avignon  rising  sheer  over  the  Rhone-stream :  there  Laura 
de  Sade  went  to  hear  mass ;  her  Petrarch  twanging  and  singing 


64  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1789-91. 

by  the  Fountain  of  Vaucluse  hard  by,  surely  in  a  most  melan¬ 
choly  manner.  This  was  in  the  old  days. 

And  now  in  these  new  days  such  issues  do  come  from  a 
squirt  of  the  pen  by  some  foolish  rhyming  Rene,  after  cen¬ 
turies, —  this  is  what  we  have:  Jourdan  Coujpe-tete ,  leading 
to  siege  and  warfare  an  Army,  from  three  to  fifteen  thousand 
strong,  called  the  Brigands  of  Avignon;  which  title  they 
themselves  accept,  with  the  edition  of  an  epithet,  “  The  brave 
Brigands  of  Avignon  ” !  It  is  even  so.  Jourdan  the  Heads¬ 
man  fled  hither  from  that  Chatelet  Inquest,  from  that  Insur 
rection  of  Women ;  and  began  dealing  in  madder :  but  the 
scene  was  rife  in  other  than  dye-stuffs ;  so  Jourdan  shut  his 
madder-shop,  and  has  risen,  for  he  was  the  man  to  do  it.  The 
tile-beard  of  Jourdan  is  shaven  off;  his  fat  visage  has  got 
coppered  and  studded  with  black  carbuncles ;  the  Silenus  trunk 
is  swollen  with  drink  and  high  living:  he  wears  blue  National 
uniform  with  epaulettes,  “  an  enormous  sabre,  two  horse-pistols 
crossed  in  his  belt,  and  other  two  smaller  sticking  from  his 
pockets ;  ”  styles  himself  General*  and  is  the  tyrant  of  men.1 
Consider  this  one  fact,  0  Reader ;  and  what  sort  of  facts  must 
have  preceded  it,  must  accompany  it !  Such  things  come  of 
old  Rene;  and  of  the  question  which  has  risen,  Whether 
Avignon  cannot  now  cease  wholly  to  be  Papal,  and  become 
French  and  free  ? 

For  some  twenty-five  months  the  confusion  has  lasted.  Say 
three  months  of  arguing ;  then  seven  of  raging ;  then  finally 
some  fifteen  months  now*  of  fighting,  and  even  of  hanging. 
For  already  in  February,  1790,  the  Papal  Aristocrats  had  set 
up  four  gibbets,  for  a  sign ;  but  the  People  rose  in  June,  in 
retributive  frenzy ;  and,  forcing  the  public  Hangman  to  act, 
hanged  four  Aristocrats,  on  each  Papal  gibbet  a  Papal  Hainan. 
Then  were  Avignon  Emigrations,  Papal  Aristocrats  emigrating 
over  the  Rhone  River ;  demission  of  Papal  Consul,  flight,  vic¬ 
tory  :  re-entrance  of  Papal  Legate,  truce,  and  new  onslaught ; 
and  the  various  turns  of  war.  Petitions  there  were  to  National 
Assembly ;  Congresses  of  Townships ;  threescore  and  odd 
Towmships  voting  for  French  Reunion,  and  the  blessings  of 

1  Dampmartin,  Ev&iemcns,  i.  267. 


Chap.  III.  AVIGNON.  65 

1789-91. 

Liberty;  while  some  twelve  of  the  smaller,  manipulated  by 
Aristocrats,  gave  vote  the  other  way :  with  shrieks  and  dis¬ 
cord  !  Township  against  Township,  Town  against  Town  :  Car- 
pentras,  long  jealous  of  Avignon,  is  now  turned  out  in  open 
war  with  it ;  — and  Jourdan  Coupe-tete ,  your  first  General  being 
killed  in  mutiny,  closes  his  dye-shop ;  and  does  there  visibly, 
with  siege-artillery,  above  all  with  bluster  and  tumult,  with 
the  “  brave  Brigands  of  Avignon,”  beleaguer  the  rival  Town,  for 
two  months,  in  the  face  of  the  world. 

Feats  were  done,  doubt  it  not,  far-famed  in  Paris  History; 
but  to  Universal  History  unknown.  Gibbets  we  see  rise, 
on  the  one  side  and  on  the  other;  and  wretched  carcasses 
swinging  there,  a  dozen  in  the  row;  wretched  Mayor  of  Vaison 
buried  before  dead.1  The  fruitful  seedfields  lie  unreaped,  the 
vineyards  trampled  down;  there  is  red  cruelty,  madness  of 
universal  choler  and  gall.  Havoc  and  anarchy  everywhere ; 
a  combustion  most  fierce,  but  tmlucent,  not  to  be  noticed 
here !  —  Finally,  as  we  saw,  on  the  14th  of  September  last, 
the  National  Constituent  Assembly,  —  having  sent  Commis¬ 
sioners  and  heard  them ; 2  having  heard  Petitions,  held  De¬ 
bates,  month  after  month  ever  since  August,  1789 ;  and  on  the 
whole  “  spent  thirty  sittings  ”  on  this  matter,  —  did  solemnly 
decree  that  Avignon  and  the  Comtat  were  incorporated  with 
France,  and  his  Holiness  the  Pope  should  have  what  indem¬ 
nity  was  reasonable. 

And  so  hereby  all  is  amnestied  and  finished?  Alas,  when 
madness  of  choler  has  gone  through  the  bhjod  of  men,  and 
gibbets  have  swung  on  this  side  and  on  that,  what  will  a 
parchment  Decree  and  Lafayette  Amnesty  do  ?  Oblivious 
Lethe  flows  not  above  ground !  Papal  Aristocrats  and  Patriot 
Brigands  are  still  an  eye-sorrow  to  each  other;  suspected, 
suspicious,  in  what  they  do  and  forbear.  The  august  Con¬ 
stituent  Assembly  is  gone  but  a  fortnight,  when,  on  Sunday 
the  Sixteenth  morning  of  October,  1791,  the  unquenched  com- 

1  Barbaroux,  Memoires,  p.  26. 

2  Lescene  Desmaisons,  Compte  rendu  a  VAssemblde  Nationale,  10  Septembre, 
1791  (Choix  des  Rapports,  vii.  273-293). 

VOL.  IV.  6 


66  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Cook  XII. 

1791. 

bustion  suddenly  becomes  luminous.  For  Anti-Constitutional 
Placards  are  up,  and  the  Statue  of  the  Virgin  is  said  to  have 
shed  tears,  and  grown  red.1  Wherefore,  on  that  morning, 
Patriot  l’Escuyer,  one  of  our  “six  leading  Patriots,”  having 
taken  counsel  with  his  brethren  and  General  Jourdan,  deter¬ 
mines  on  going  to  Church,  in  company  with  a  friend  or  two : 
not  to  hear  mass,  which  he  values  little ;  but  to  meet  all  the 
Papalists  there  in  a  body,  nay  to  meet  that  same  weeping 
Virgin,  for  it  is  the  Cordeliers  Church  5  and  give  them  a  word 
of  admonition.  Adventurous  errand;  which  has  the  fatalest 
issue  !  What  L’Escuyer’s  word  of  admonition  might  be,  no 
History  records ;  but  the  answer  to  it  was  a  shrieking  howl 
from  the  Aristocrat  Papal  worshippers,  many  of  them  women. 
A  thousand-voiced  shriek  and  menace;  which,  as  L’Escuyer 
did  not  fly,  became  a  thousand-handed  hustle  and  jostle;  a 
thousand-footed  kick,  with  tumblings  and  tramplings,  with  the 
pricking  of  sempstress  stilettos,  scissors  and  female  pointed 
instruments.  Horrible  to  behold ;  the  ancient  Dead,  and 
Petrarchan  Laura,  sleeping  round  it  there:2  high  Altar  and 
burning  tapers  looking  down  on  it;  the  Virgin  quite  tearless, 
and  of  the  natural  stone-color !  —  L’Escuyer’s  friend  or  two 
rush  off,  like  Job’s  Messengers,  for  Jourdan  and  the  National 
Force.  But  heavy  Jourdan  will  seize  the  Town-Gates  first; 
does  not  run  treble-fast,  as.  he  might :  on  arriving  at  the 
Cordeliers  Church,  the  Church  is  silent,  vacant;  L’Escuyer, 
all  alone,  lies  there,  swimming  in  his  blood,  at  the  foot  of 
the  high  Altar  ;  pricked  with  scissors,  trodden,  massacred ;  — 
gives  one  dumbb  sob,  and  gasps  out  his  miserable  life  for¬ 
evermore. 

Sight  to  stir  the  heart  of  any  man;  much  more  of  many 
men,  self-styled  Brigands  of  Avignon !  The  corpse  of  L’Es¬ 
cuyer,  stretched  on  a  bier,  the  ghastly  head  girt  with  laurel, 
is  borne  through  the  streets ;  with  many-voiced  unmelodious 
Nenia  ;  funeral-wail  still  deeper  than  it  is  loud !  The  copper- 
face  of  Jourdan,  of  bereft  Patriotism,  has  grown  black.  Pa¬ 
triot  Municipality  despatches  official  Narrative  and  tidings 

1  Proces-verbal  de  la  Commune  d’ Avignon,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xii.  419-423). 

2  Ugo  Foscolo,  Essay  on  Petrarch,  p.  35. 


AVIGNON. 


67 


Chap.  III. 

November. 

to  Paris ;  orders  numerous  or  innumerable  arrestments  for 
inquests  and  perquisition.  Aristocrats  male  and  female  are 
haled  to  the  Castle ;  lie  crowded  in  subterranean  dungeons 
there,  bemoaned  by  the  hoarse  rushing  of  the  Bhone ;  cut 
out  from  help. 

So  lie  they ;  waiting  inquest  and  perquisition.  Alas,  with 
a  Jourdan  Headsman  for  Generalissimo,  with  his  copper-face 
grown  black,  and  armed  P>rigand  Patriots  chanting  their  Nenia , 
the  inquest  is  likely  to  be  brief.  On  the  next  day  and  the 
next,  let  Municipality  consent  or  not,  a  Brigand  Court-Martial 
establishes  itself  in  the  subterranean  stories  of  the  Castle  of 
Avignon;  Brigand  Executioners,  with  naked  sabre,  waiting 
at  the  door  for  a  Brigand  verdict.  Short  judgment,  no  ap¬ 
peal  !  There  is  Brigand  wrath  and  vengeance ;  not  unre¬ 
freshed  by  brandy.  Close  by  is  the  dungeon  of  the  Glaciere, 
or  Ice-Tower  :  there  may  be  deeds  done  —  ?  For  which  lan¬ 
guage  has  no  name !  —  Darkness  and  the  shadow  of  horrid 
cruelty  envelops  these  Castle  Dungeons,  that  Glaciere  Tower : 
clear  only  that  many  have  entered,  that  few  have  returned. 
Jourdan  and  the  Brigands,  supreme  now  over  Municipals, 
over  all  authorities  Patriot  or  Papal,  reign  in  Avignon,  waited 
on  by  Terror  and  Silence. 

The  result  of  all  which  is,  that,  on  the  15th  of  November, 
1791,  we  behold  Friend  Dampmartin,  and  subalterns  beneath 
him,  and  General  Choisi  above  him,  with  Infantry  and  Cavalry, 
and  proper  cannon-carriages  rattling  in  front,  with  spread 
banners,  to  the  sound  of  fife  and  drum,  wend,  in  a  deliberate 
formidable  manner,  towards  that  sheer  Castle  Bock,  towards 
those  broad  Gates  of  Avignon;  three  new  National-Assem¬ 
bly  Commissioners  following  at  safe  distance  in  the  rear.1 
Avignon,  summoned  in  the  name  of  Assembly  and  Law,  flings 
its  Gates  wide  open;  Choisi  with  the  rest,  Dampmartin  and 
the  “  Bons  Enfans ,  Good  Boys  of  Baufremont —  so  they 
name  these  brave  Constitutional  Dragoons,  known  to  them  of 
old,  —  do  enter,  amid  shouts  and  scattered  flowers.  To  the 
joy  of  all  honest  persons;  to  the  terror  only  of  Jourdan 
Headsman  and  the  Brigands.  Nay  next  we  behold  carbuncled 

1  Dampmartin,  i.  251-294. 


68 


PARLIAMENT  FIRST. 


Book  XII. 
1792. 

swollen  Jourdan  himself  show  copper-face,  with  sabre  and 
four  pistols ;  affecting  to  talk  high ;  engaging,  meanwhile,  to 
surrender  the  Castle  that  instant.  So  the  Clioisi  Grenadiers 
enter  with  him  there.  They  start  and  stop,  passing  that 
Glaciere ,  snuffing  its  horrible  breath;  with  wild  yell,  with 
cries  of  “Cut  the  Butcher  down!”  —  and  Jourdan  has  to 
whisk  himself  through  secret  passages,  and  instantaneously 
vanish. 

Be  the  mystery  of  iniquity  laid  bare,  then !  A  Hundred 
and  Thirty  Corpses,  of  men,  nay  of  women  and  even  children 
(for  the  trembling  mother,  hastily  seized,  could  not  leave  her 
infant),  lie  heaped  in  that  Glaciere ;  putrid,  under  putridities: 
the  horror  of  the  world.  For  three  days  there  is  mournful 
lifting  out,  and  recognition ;  amid  the  cries  and  movements  of 
a  passionate  Southern  people,  now  kneeling  in  prayer,  now 
storming  in  wild  pity  and  rage  :  lastly  there  is  solemn  sepul¬ 
ture,  with  muffled  drums,  religious  requiem,  and  all  the  peo¬ 
ple’s  wail  and  tears.  Their  Massacred  rest  now  in  holy 
ground ;  buried  in  one  grave. 

And  Jourdan  Cougie-tete?  Him  also  we  behold  again,  after 
a  day  or  two :  in  flight,  through  the  most  romantic  Petrarchan 
hill-country;  vehemently  spurring  his  nag;  young  Ligonnet, 
a  brisk  youth  of  Avignon,  with  Choisi  Dragoons,  close  in  his 
rear !  With  such  swollen  mass  of  a  rider  no  nag  can  run  to 
advantage.  The  tired  nag,  spur-driven,  does  take  the  River 
Sorgue ;  but  sticks  in  the  middle  of  it ;  firm  on  that  chiaro 
fondo  di  Sorga ;  and  will  proceed  no  farther  for  spurring! 
Young  Ligonnet  dashes  up ;  the  Copper-face  menaces  and 
bellows,  draws  pistol,  perhaps  even  snaps  it;  is  nevertheless 
seized  by  the  collar ;  is  tied  firm,  ankles  under  horse’s  belly, 
and  ridden  back  to  Avignon,  hardly  to  be  saved  from  massacre 
on  the  streets  there.1 

Such  is  the  combustion  of  Avignon  and  the  Southwest, 
when  it  becomes  luminous.  Long  loud  debate  is  in  the  august 
Legislative,  in  the  Mother  Society,  as  to  what  now  shall  be 
done  with  it.  Amnesty,  cry  eloquent  Yergniaud  and  all  Pa¬ 
triots  :  let  there  be  mutual  pardon  and  repentance,  restoration, 

1  Dampmartin,  ubi  supra. 


AVIGNON. 


69 


Chap.  III. 

February. 

pacification,  and,  if  so  might  anyhow  be,  an  end !  Which  vote 
ultimately  prevails.  So  the  Southwest  smoulders  and  welters 
again  in  an  “Amnesty,”  or  Non-remembrance,  which  alas  can¬ 
not  but  remember,  no  Lethe  flowing  above  ground !  Jourdan 
himself  remains  unhanged;  gets  loose  again,  as  one  not  yet 
gallows-ripe ;  nay,  as  we  transiently  discern  from  the  distance, 
is  “  carried  in  triumph  through  the  cities  of  the  South.” 1 
What  things  men  carry ! 

With  which  transient  glimpse,  of  a  Copper-faced  Portent 
faring  in  this  manner  through  the  cities  of  the  South,  we 
must  quit  these  regions  ;  —  and  let  them  smoulder.  They 
want  not  their  Aristocrats  ;  proud  old  Nobles,  not  yet  emi¬ 
grated.  Arles  has  its  “  Chiffonne ,”  so,  in  symbolical  cant,  they 
name  that  Aristocrat  Secret-Association ;  Arles  has  its  pave¬ 
ments  piled  up,  by  and  by,  into  Aristocrat  barricades.  Against 
which  Bebecqui,  the  hot-clear  Patriot,  must  lead  Marseillese 
with  cannon.  The  Bar  of  Iron  has  not  yet  risen  to  the  top  in 
the  Bay  of  Marseilles  ;  neither  have  these  hot  Sons  of  the  Pho- 
ceans  submitted  to  be  slaves.  By  clear  management  and  hot 
instance,  Bebecqui  dissipates  that  Chiffonne ,  without  blood¬ 
shed  ;  restores  the  pavement  of  Arles.  He  sails  in  Coast-barks, 
this  Bebecqui,  scrutinizing  suspicious  Martello-towers,  with 
the  keen  eye  of  Patriotism ;  marches  overland  with  despatch, 
singly,  or  in  force ;  to  City  after  City ;  dim  scouring  far  and 
wide ; 2  —  argues,  and  if  it  must  be,  fights.  For  there  is  much 
to  do;  Jales  itself  is  looking  suspicious.  So  that  Legislator 
Fauchet,  after  debate  on  it,  has  to  propose  Commissioners  and 
a  Camp  on  the  Plain  of  Beaucaire ;  with  or  without  result. 

Of  all  which,  and  much  else,  let  us  note  only  this  small 
consequence,  that  young  Barbaroux,  Advocate,  Town-Clerk  of 
Marseilles,  being  charged  to  have  these  things  remedied,  ar¬ 
rives  at  Paris  in  the  month  of  February,  1792.  The  beautiful 
and  brave :  young  Spartan,  ripe  in  energy,  not  ripe  in  wisdom ; 
over  whose  black  doom  there  shall  flit  nevertheless  a  certain 
ruddy  fervor,  streaks  of  bright  Southern  tint,  not  wholly 

1  Deux  Amis  (Paris,  1797),  vii.  pp.  59-71. 

2  Barbaroux,  p.  21.  Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  421-424. 


70  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

swallowed  of  Death !  Note  also  that  the  Rolands  of  Lyons 
are  again  in  Paris ;  for  the  second  and  final  time.  King’s 
Inspectorship  is  abrogated  at  Lyons,  as  elsewhere  :  Roland  has 
his  retiring-pension  to  claim,  if  attainable ;  has  Patriot  friends 
to  commune  with;  at  lowest,  has  a  Book  to  publish.  That 
young  Barbaroux  and  the  Rolands  came  together ;  that  elderly 
Spartan  Roland  liked,  or  even  loved  the  young  Spartan,  and 
was  loved  by  him,  one  can  fancy :  and  Madame  —  ?  Breathe 
not,  thou  poison-breath,  Evil-speech !  That  soul  is  taintless, 
clear  as  the  mirror-sea.  And  yet  if  they  two  did  look  into 
each  other’s  eyes,  and  each,  in  silence,  in  tragical  renunciance, 
did  find  that  the  other  was  all  too  lovely  ?  Honi  soit !  She 
calls  him  "  beautiful  as  Antinous  :  ”  he  “  will  speak  elsewhere 
of  that  astonishing  woman.”  —  A  Madame  d’Udon  (or  some 
such  name,  for  Dumont  does  not  recollect  quite  clearly)  gives 
copious  Breakfast  to  the  Prissotin  Deputies  and  us  Friends  of 
Freedom,  at  her  House  in  the  Place  Vendome ;  with  temporary 
celebrity,  with  graces  and  wreathed  smiles ;  not  without  cost. 
There,  amid  wide  babble  and  jingle,  our  plan  of  Legislative 
Debate  is  settled  for  the  day,  and  much  counselling  held. 
Strict  Roland  is  seen  there,  but  does  not  go  often.1 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NO  SUGAR. 

Such  are  our  inward  troubles  ;  seen  in  the  Cities  of  the 
South;  extant,  seen  or  unseen,  in  all  cities  and  districts, 
North  as  well  as  South.  For  in  all  are  Aristocrats,  more  or 
less  malignant ;  watched  by  Patriotism ;  which  again,  being  of 
various  shades,  from  light  Fayettist-Feuillant  down  to  deep- 
sombre  Jacobin,  has  to  watch  even  itself. 

Directories  of  Departments,  what  we  call  County  Magis¬ 
tracies,  being  chosen  by  Citizens  of  a  too  "  active  ”  class,  are 

1  Dumont,  Souvenirs,  p.  374. 


NO  SUGAR. 


71 


Chap.  IV. 

1791-92. 

found  to  pull  one  way ;  Municipalities,  Town  Magistracies,  to 
pull  tlie  other  way.  In  all  places  too  are  Dissident  Priests  ; 
whom  the  Legislative  will  have  to  deal  with:  contumacious 
individuals,  working  on  that  angriest  of  passions ;  plotting, 
enlisting  for  Coblentz;  or  suspected  of  plotting:  fuel  of  a 
universal  unconstitutional  heat.  What  to  do  with  them  ? 
They  may  be  conscientious  as  well  as  contumacious  :  gently 
they  should  be  dealt  with,  and  yet  it  must  be  speedily.  In 
unilluminated  La  Vendee  the  simple  are  like  to  be  seduced  by 
them  ;  many  a  simple  peasant,  a  Cathelineau  the  wool-dealer 
wayfaring  meditative  with  his  wool-packs,  in  these  hamlets, 
dubiously  shakes  his  head !  Two  Assembly  Commissioners 
went  thither  last  Autumn ;  considerate  Gensonne,  not  yet 
called  to  be  a  senator ;  Gallois,  an  editorial  man.  These  Two, 
consulting  with  General  Dumouriez,  spake  and  worked,  softly, 
with  judgment ;  they  have  hushed  down  the  irritation,  and 
produced  a  soft  Report,  —  for  the  time. 

The  General  himself  doubts  not  in  the  least  but  he  can 
keep  peace  there ;  being  an  able  man.  He  passes  these  frosty 
months  among  the  pleasant  people  of  Niort,  occupies  “tolera¬ 
bly  handsome  apartments  in  the  Castle  of  Niort,”  and  tempers 
the  minds  of  men.1  Why  is  there  but  one  Dumouriez  ?  Else¬ 
where  you  find,  South  or  North,  nothing  but  untempered 
obscure  jarring ;  which  breaks  forth  ever  and  anon  into  open 
clangor  of  riot.  Southern  Perpignan  has  its  tocsin,  by  torch¬ 
light  ;  with  rushing  and  onslaught :  Northern  Caen  not  less,  by 
daylight;  with  Aristocrats  ranged  in  arms  at  Places  of  Wor¬ 
ship  ;  Departmental  compromise  proving  impossible  ;  breaking 
into  musketry  and  a  Plot  discovered ! 2  Add  Hunger  too : 
for  bread,  always  dear,  is  getting  dearer :  not  so  much  as 
Sugar  can  be  had ;  for  good  reasons.  Poor  Simoneau,  Mayor 
of  Etampes,  in  this  Northern  region,  hanging  out  his  Red 
Flag  in  some  riot  of  grains,  is  trampled  to  death  by  a  hungry 
exasperated  People.  What  a  trade  this  of  Mayor,  in  these 
times !  Mayor  of  Saint-Denis  hung  at  the  Lanterne,  by  Sus¬ 
picion  and  Dyspepsia,  as  we  saw  long  since ;  Mayor  of  Vaison, 
as  we  saw  lately,  buried  before  dead ;  and  now  this  poor 

1  Dumouriez,  ii.  129.  a  Hist.  Pari.  xii.  131,  141 ;  xiii.  114,  417. 


72  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

Simoneau  the  Tanner,  of  Etampes,  —  whom  legal  Constitution¬ 
alism  will  not  forget. 

With  factions,  suspicions,  want  of  bread  and  sugar,  it  is 
verily  what  they  call  de  chive,  torn  asunder,  this  poor  country : 
France  and  all  that  is  French.  For,  over  seas  too  come  bad 
news.  In  black  Saint-Domingo,  before  that  variegated  Glitter 
in  the  Champs  Elysees  was  lit  for  an  Accepted  Constitution, 
there  had  risen,  and  was  burning  contemporary  with  it,  quite 
another  variegated  Glitter  and  nocturnal  Fulgor,  had  we  known 
it :  of  molasses  and  ardent-spirits ;  of  sugar-boileries,  planta¬ 
tions,  furniture,  cattle  and  men  :  sky-high ;  the  Plain  of  Cap 
Fran^ais  one  huge  whirl  of  smoke  and  flame  ! 

What  a  change  here,  in  these  two  years ;  since  that  first 
“  Box  of  Tricolor  Cockades  ”  got  through  the  Custom-house, 
and  atrabiliar  Creoles  too  rejoiced  that  there  was  a  levelling 
of  Bastilles  !  Levelling  is  comfortable,  as  we  often  say  :  lev¬ 
elling,  yet  only  down  to  oneself.  Your  pale- white  Creoles 
have  their  grievances  :  —  and  your  yellow  Quarteroons  ?  And 
your  dark-yellow  Mulattoes  ?  And  your  Slaves  soot-black  ? 
Quarteroon  Oge,  Friend  of  our  Parisian-Brissotin  Friends  of 
the  Blacks,  felt,  for  his  share  too,  that  Insurrection  was  the 
most  sacred  of  duties.  So  the  tricolor  Cockades  had  fluttered 
and  swashed  only  some  three  months  on  the  Creole  hat,  when 
Oge’s  signal-conflagrations  went  aloft ;  with  the  voice  of  rage 
and  terror.  Repressed,  doomed  to  die,  he  took  black  powder 
or  seed-grains  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  this  Oge ;  sprinkled 
a  film  of  white  ones  on  the  top,  and  said  to  his  Judges,  “  Be¬ 
hold  they  are  white  ;  ”  then  shook  his  hand,  and  said,  “  Where 
are  the  whites,  Ou  so?it  les  blancs  ?  ” 

So  now,  in  the  Autumn  of  1791,  looking  from  the  sky- 
windows  of  Cap  Fran^ais,  thick  clouds  of  smoke  girdle  our 
horizon,  smoke  in  the  day,  in  the  night  fire  ;  preceded  by 
fugitive  shrieking  white  women,  by  Terror  and  Rumor.  Black 
demonized  squadrons  are  massacring  and  harrying,  with  name¬ 
less  cruelty.  They  fight  and  fire  “  from  behind  thickets  and 
coverts,’’  for  the  Black  man  loves  the  Bush  ;  they  rush  to  the 
attack,  thousands  strong,  with  brandished  cutlasses  and  fusils, 
with  caperings,  shoutings  and  vociferation,  —  which,  if  the 


Chap.  IV.  NO  SUGAR.  73 

1791-92. 

White  Volunteer  Company  stands  firm,  dwindle  into  stagger- 
ings,  into  quick  gabblement,  into  panic  flight  at  the  first  vol¬ 
ley,  perhaps  before  it.1  Poor  Oge  could  be  broken  on  the 
wheel ;  this  fire-wliirlwind  too  can  be  abated,  driven  up  into 
the  Mountains  :  but  Saint-Domingo  is  shaken ,  as  Oge’s  seed- 
grains  were ;  shaking,  writhing  in  long  horrid  death-throes,  it 
is  Black  without  remedy  ;  and  remains,  as  African  Haiti,  a 
monition  to  the  world. 

0  my  Parisian  Friends,  is  not  this,  as  well  as  Regraters  and 
Feuillant  Plotters,  one  cause  of  the  astonishing  dearth  of 
Sugar !  The  Grocer,  palpitant,  with  drooping  lip,  sees  his 
Sugar  taxe  ;  weighed  out  by  female  Patriotism,  in  instant  re¬ 
tail,  at  the  inadequate  rate  of  twenty-five  sous,  or  thirteen 
pence  a  pound.  “  Abstain  from  it  ?  ”  Yes,  ye  Patriot  Sec¬ 
tions,  all  ye  Jacobins,  abstain!  Louvet  and  Collot-d’Herbois 
so  advise ;  resolute  to  make  the  sacrifice  ;  though  “  how  shall 
literary  men  do  without  coffee  ?  ”  Abstain,  with  an  oath ;  that 
is  the  surest ! 2 

Also,  for  like  reason,  must  not  Brest  and  the  Shipping  In¬ 
terest  languish  ?  Poor  Brest  languishes,  sorrowing,  not  with¬ 
out  spleen ;  denounces  an  Aristocrat  Bertrand-Moleville, 
traitorous  Aristocrat  Marine-Minister.  Do  not  her  Ships  and 
King’s  Ships  lie  rotting  piecemeal  in  harbor ;  Naval  Officers 
mostly  fled,  and  on  furlough  too,  with  pay?  Little  stirring 
there  ;  if  it  be  not  the  Brest  Galleys,  whip-driven,  with  their 
Galley-Slaves,  —  alas,  with  some  Forty  of  our  hapless  Swiss 
Soldiers  of  Chateau-Vieux,  among  others  !  These  Forty  Swiss, 
too  mindful  of  Nanci,  do  now,  in  their  red  wool  caps,  tug  sor¬ 
rowfully  at  the  oar;  looking  into  the  Atlantic  brine,  which 
reflects  only  their  own  sorrowful  shaggy  faces ;  and  seem  for¬ 
gotten  of  Plope. 

'  But,  on  the  whole,  may  we  not  say,  in  figurative  language, 
that  the  French  Constitution  which  shall  march  is  very  rheu¬ 
matic,  full  of  shooting  internal  pains,  in  joint  and  muscle ;  and 
will  not  march  without  difficulty  ? 

1  Deux  Amis,  x.  157. 

*  Debuts  des  Jacobins,  &c.  (Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  171,  92-98). 


74 


PARLIAMENT  FIRST. 


Book  XII. 
1791-92. 


CHAPTER  V. 

KINGS  AND  EMIGRANTS.  v 

Extremely  rheumatic  Constitutions  have  been  known  to 
march,  and  keep  on  their  feet,  though  in  a  staggering  sprawl¬ 
ing  manner,  for  long  periods,  in  virtue  of  one  thing  only :  that 
the  Head  were  healthy.  But  this  Head  of  the  French  Consti¬ 
tution  !  What  King  Louis  is  and  cannot  help  being,  Readers 
already  know.  A  King  who  cannot  take  the  Constitution,  nor 
reject  the  Constitution:  nor  do  anything  at  all,  but  miserably 
ask,  What  shall  I  do  ?  A  King  environed  with  endless  con¬ 
fusions  ;  in  whose  own  mind  is  no  germ  of  order.  Haughty 
implacable  remnants  of  Noblesse  struggling  with  humiliated 
repentant  Barnave-Lametlis ;  struggling  in  that  obscure  ele¬ 
ment  of  fetchers  and  carriers,  of  Half-pay  braggarts  from  the 
Cafe  Valois,  of  Chambermaids,  whisperers,  and  subaltern  offi¬ 
cious  persons  ;  fierce  Patriotism  looking  on  all  the  while,  more 
and  more  suspicious,  from  without :  what,  in  such  struggle, 
can  they  do  ?  At  best,  cancel  one  another,  and  produce  zero. 
Poor  King !  Barnave  and  your  Senatorial  Jaucourts  speak 
earnestly  into  this  ear ;  Bertrand-Moleville,  and  Messengers 
from  Coblentz,  speak  earnestly  into  that :  the  poor  Royal 
head  turns  to  the  one  side  and  to  the  other  side ;  can  turn 
itself  fixedly  to  no  side.  Let  Decency  drop  a  veil  over  it: 
sorrier  misery  was  seldom  enacted  in  the  world.  This  one 
small  fact,  does  it  not  throw  the  saddest  light  on  much  ?  The 
Queen  is  lamenting  to  Madame  Campan :  “  What  am  I  to  do  ? 
When  they,  these  Barnaves,  get  us  advised  to  any  step  which 
the  Noblesse  do  not  like,  then  I  am  pouted  at ;  nobody  comes 
to  my  card-table  j  the  King’s  Couchee  is  solitary.” 1  In  such 
a  case  of  dubiety,  what  is  one  to  do  ?  Go  inevitably  to  the 
ground ! 

1  Campan,  ii.  177,  202. 


Chap.  V.  KINGS  AND  EMIGRANTS.  75 

1791-92. 

The  King  has  accepted  this  Constitution,  knowing  before¬ 
hand  that  it  will  not  serve  :  he  studies  it,  and  executes  it  in 
the  hope  mainly  that  it  will  be  found  inexecutable.  King’s 
Ships  lie  rotting  in  harbor,  their  officers  gone  ;  the  Armies  dis¬ 
organized  ;  robbers  scour  the  Highways,  which  wear  down 
unrepaired  ;  all  Public  Service  lies  slack  and  waste :  the  Execu¬ 
tive  makes  no  effort,  or  an  effort  only  to  throw  the  blame  on 
the  Constitution.  Shamming  death,  “faisant  la  mort !  ”  What 
Constitution,  use  it  in  this  manner,  can  march  ?  “  Grow  to 
disgust  the  Nation,”  it  will  truly,1  unless  you  first  grow  to  dis¬ 
gust  the  Nation !  It  is  Bertrand  de  Moleville’s  plan,  and  his 
Majesty’s ;  the  best  they  can  form. 

Or  if,  after  all,  this  best-plan  proved  too  slow ;  proved  a 
failure  ?  Provident  of  that  too,  the  Queen,  shrouded  in  deep¬ 
est  mystery,  “  writes  all  day,  in  cipher,  day  after  day,  to 
Coblentz ;  ”  Engineer  Goguelat,  he  of  the  Night  of  Spurs , 
whom  the  Lafayette  Amnesty  has  delivered  from  Prison,  rides 
and  runs.  Now  and  then,  on  fit  occasion,  a  Royal  familiar 
visit  can  be  paid  to  that  Salle  de  Manege,  an  affecting  encour¬ 
aging  Royal  Speech  (sincere,  doubt  it  not,  for  the  moment) 
can  be  delivered  there,  and  the  Senators  all  cheer  and  almost 
weep ;  —  at  the  same  time  Mallet  du  Pan  has  visibly  ceased 
editing,  and  invisibly  bears  abroad  a  King’s  Autograph,  solicit¬ 
ing  help  from  the  Foreign  Potentates.2  Unhappy  Louis,  do 
this  thing  or  else  that  other,  —  if  thou  couldst ! 

The  thing  which  the  King’s  Government  did  do  was  to 
stagger  distractedly  from  contradiction  to  contradiction  ;  and 
wedding  Fire  to  Water,  envelop  itself  in  hissing  and  ashy 
steam.  Danton  and  needy  corruptible  Patriots  are  sopped 
with  presents  of  cash :  they  accept  the  sop ;  they  rise  re¬ 
freshed  by  it,  and  —  travel  their  own  way.3  Nay,  the  King’s 
Government  did  likewise  hire  Hand-clappers,  or  claqueurs, 
persons  to  applaud.  Subterranean  Rivarol  has  Fifteen  Hun¬ 
dred  Men  in  King’s  pay,  at  the  rate  of  some  £10,000  sterling 
per  month ;  what  he  calls  “  a  staff  of  genius  :  ”  Paragraph- 
writers,  Placard  Journalists ;  “  two  hundred  and  eighty  Ap 

1  Bertrand-Moleville,  i.  c.  4.  2  lb.  i.  370. 

8  lb.  i.  c.  17. 


76  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

plauders,  at  three  shillings  a  day  :  ”  one  of  the  strangest  Staffs 
ever  commanded  by  man.  The  muster-rolls  and  account-books 
of  which  still  exist.1  Bertrand-Moleville  himself,  in  a  way  he 
thinks  very  dexterous,  contrives  to  pack  the  Galleries  of  the 
Legislative ;  gets  Sansculottes  hired  to  go  thither,  and  applaud 
at  a  signal  given,  they  fancying  it  was  Petion  that  bade  them  : 
a  device  which  was  not  detected  for  almost  a  week.  Dex¬ 
terous  enough ;  as  if  a  man,  finding  the  Day  fast  decline, 
should  determine  on  altering  the  Clock-hands  ;  that  is  a  thing 
possible  for  him. 

Here  too  let  us  note  an  unexpected  apparition  of  Philippe 
d’Orleans  at  Court :  his  last  at  the  Levee  of  any  King.  D’Or¬ 
leans,  some  time  in  the  winter  months  seemingly,  has  been 
appointed  to  that  old  first-coveted  rank  of  Admiral,  —  though 
only  over  ships  rotting  in  port.  The  wished-for  comes  too 
late  !  However,  he  waits  on  Bertrand-Moleville  to  give  thanks : 
nay  to  state  that  he  would  willingly  thank  his  Majesty  in  per¬ 
son  ;  that,  in  spite  of  all  the  horrible  things  men  have  said 
and  sung,  he  is  far  from  being  his  Majesty’s  enemy ;  at  bot¬ 
tom,  how  far  !  Bertrand  delivers  the  message,  brings  about 
the  royal  Interview,  which  does  pass  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
Majesty ;  D’Orleans  seeming  clearly  repentant,  determined  to 
turn  over  a  new  leaf.  And  yet,  next  Sunday,  what  do  we 
see  ?  “Next  Sunday,”  says  Bertrand,  “he  came  to  the  King’s 
Levee ;  but  the  Courtiers  ignorant  of  what  had  passed,  the 
Crowd  of  Royalists  who  were  accustomed  to  resort  thither  on 
that  day  specially  to  pay  their  court,  gave  him  the  most  hu¬ 
miliating  reception.  They  came  pressing  round  him  ;  manag¬ 
ing,  as  if  by  mistake,  to  tread  on  his  toes,  to  elbow  him  towards 
the  door,  and  not  let  him  enter  again.  He  went  downstairs 
to  her  Majesty’s  Apartments,  where  cover  was  laid ;  so  soon 
as  he  showed  face,  sounds  rose  on  all  sides,  ‘ Messieurs ,  take 
care  of  the  dishes’  as  if  he  had  carried  poison  in  his  pockets. 
The  insults,  which  his  presence  everywhere  excited,  forced 
him  to  retire  without  having  seen  the  Royal  Family :  the 
crowd  followed  him  to  the  Queen’s  staircase ;  in  descending, 
he  received  a  spitting  ( [crachat )  on  the  head,  and  some  others 

1  Montgaillard,  iii.  41. 


Chap.  V.  KINGS  AND  EMIGRANTS.  77 

1791-92. 

on  liis  clothes.  Rage  and  spite  were  seen  visibly  painted  on 
his  face :  ”  1  as  indeed  how  could  they  miss  to  be  ?  He  im¬ 
putes  it  all  to  the  King  and  Queen,  who  know  nothing  of  it, 
who  are  even  much  grieved  at  it ;  and  so  descends  to  his  Chaos 
again.  Bertrand  was  there  at  the  Chateau  that  day  himself, 
and  an  eye-witness  to  these  things. 

For  the  rest,  Non-jurant  Priests,  and  the  repression  of  them, 
will  distract  the  King’s  conscience ;  Emigrant  Princes  and 
Noblesse  will  force  him  to  double-dealing  :  there  must  be  veto 
on  veto ;  amid  the  ever-waxing  indignation  of  men.  For 
Patriotism,  as  we  said,  looks  on  from  without,  more  and  more 
suspicious.  Waxing  tempest,  blast  after  blast,  of  Patriotic 
indignation,  from  without;  dim  inorganic  whirl  of  Intrigues, 
Fatuities,  within  !  Inorganic,  fatuous ;  from  which  the  eye 
turns  away.  De  Stael  intrigues  for  her  so  gallant  Narbonne,, 
to  get  him  made  War-Minister ;  and  ceases  not,  having  got  him 
made.  The  King  shall  fly  to  Rouen ;  shall  there,  with  the 
gallant  Narbonne,  properly  “modify  the  Constitution.”  This 
is  the  same  brisk  Narbonne,  who,  last  year,  cut  out  from  their 
entanglement,  by  force  of  dragoons,  those  poor  fugitive  Royal 
Aunts :  men  say  he  is  at  bottom  their  Brother,  or  even  mere, 
so  scandalous  is  scandal.  He  drives  now,  with  his  De  Stael, 
rapidly  to  the  Armies,  to  the  Frontier  Towns  ;  produces  rose- 
colored  Reports,  not  too  credible ;  perorates,  gesticulates  ; . 
wavers  poising  himself  on  the  top,  for  a  moment,  seen  of  men; 
then  tumbles,  dismissed,  washed  away  by  the  Time-flood. 

Also  the  fair  Princess  de  Lamballe  intrigues,  bosom-friend 
of  her  Majesty:  to  the  angering  of  Patriotism.  Beautiful 
Unfortunate,  why  did  she  ever  return  from  England?  Her 
small  silver-voice,  what  can  it  profit  in  that  piping  of  the  black 
World-tornado  ?  Which  will  whirl  her,  poor  fragile  Bird  of 
Paradise,  against  grim  rocks.  Lamballe  and  De  Stael  intrigue 
visibly,  apart  or  together :  but  who  shall  reckon  how  many 
others,  and  in  what  infinite  ways,  invisibly  !  Is  there  not  what 
one  may  call  an  “  Austrian  Committee,”  sitting  invisible  in  the 
Tuileries  ;  centre  of  an  invisible  Anti-National  Spider-web, 
which,  for  we  sleep  among  mysteries,  stretches  its  threads  to 

1  Bertrand-Moleville,  i.  177. 


PARLIAMENT  FIRST. 


78  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1701-92. 

the  ends  of  the  Earth  ?  Journalist  Carra  has  now  the  clearest 
certainty  of  it :  to  Brissotin  Patriotism,  and  France  generally, 
it  is  growing  more  and  more  probable. 

0  Reader,  hast  thon  no  pity  for  this  Constitution  ?  Rheu¬ 
matic  shooting  pains  in  its  members  ;  pressure  of  hydrocephale 
and  hysteric  vapors  on  its  Brain;  a  Constitution  divided 
against  itself ;  which  will  never  march,  hardly  even  stagger  ! 
Why  were  not  Drouet  and  Procureur  Sausse  in  their  beds,  that 
unblessed  Varennes  Night  ?  Why  did  they  not,  in  the  name 
of  Heaven,  let  the  Korff  Berline  go  whither  it  listed  ?  Name¬ 
less  incoherency,  incompatibility,  perhaps  prodigies  at  which 
the  world  still  shudders,  had  been  spared. 


But  now  comes  the  third  thing  that  bodes  ill  for  the  march¬ 
ing  of  this  French  Constitution :  besides  the  French  People, 
and  the  French  King,  there  is  thirdly  —  the  assembled  Euro¬ 
pean  World.  It  has  become  necessary  now  to  look  at  that 
also.  Fair  France  is  so  luminous :  and  round  and  round  it,  is 
troublous  Cimmerian  Night.  Calonnes,  Breteuils  hover  dim, 
far-flown  ;  overnetting  Europe  with  intrigues.  From  Turin  to 
Vienna  ;  to  Berlin,  and  utmost  Petersburg  in  the  frozen  North ! 
Great  Burke  has  raised  his  great  voice  long  ago ;  eloquently 
demonstrating  that  the  end  of  an  Epoch  is  come,  to  all  appear¬ 
ance  the  end  of  Civilized  Time.  Him  many  answer :  Camille 
Desmoulins,  Clootz  Speaker  of  Mankind,  Paine  the  rebellious 
Needleman,  and  honorable  Gaelic  Vindicators  in  that  country 
and  in  this  :  but  the  great  Burke  remains  unanswerable ;  “  the 
Age  of  Chivalry  is  gone,”  and  could  not  but  go,  having  now 
produced  the  still  more  indomitable  Age  of  Hunger.  Altars 
enough,  of  the  Dubois-Rohan  sort,  changing  to  the  Gobel-and- 
Talleyrand  sort,  are  faring  by  rapid  transmutations  to  —  shall 
we  say,  the  right  Proprietor  of  them  ?  French  Game  and 
French  Game-Preservers  did  alight  on  the  Cliffs  of  Dover, 
with  cries  of  distress.  Who  will  say  that  the  end  of  much  is 
not  come  ?  A  set  of  mortals  has  risen,  who  believe  that  Truth 
is  not  a  printed  Speculation,  but  a  practical  Fact ;  that  Free¬ 
dom  and  Brotherhood  are  possible  in  this  Earth,  supposed 
always  to  be  Belial’s,  which  “the  Supreme  Quack”  was  to 


Chap.  V.  KINGS  AND  EMIGRANTS.  .  79 

1791-92. 

inherit !  Who  will  say  that  Church,  State,  Throne,  Altar  are 
not  in  danger ;  that  the  sacred  Strong-box  itself,  last  Palladium 
of  effete  Humanity,  may  not  be  blasphemously  blown  upon, 
and  its  padlocks  undone  ? 

The  poor  Constituent  Assembly  might  act  with  what  deli¬ 
cacy  and  diplomacy  it  would;  declare  that  it  abjured  med¬ 
dling  with  its  neighbors,  foreign  conquest,  and  so  forth ;  but 
from  the  first  this  thing  was  to  be  predicted  :  that  old  Europe 
and  new  Prance  could  not  subsist  together.  A  Glorious  Revo¬ 
lution,  oversetting  State-Prisons  and  Feudalism ;  publishing, 
with  outburst  of  Federative  Cannon,  in  face  of  all  the  Earth, 
that  Appearance  is  not  Reality,  how  shall  it  subsist  amid 
Governments  which,  if  Appearance  is  not  Reality,  are  —  one 
knows  not  what  ?  In  death-feud,  and  internecine  wrestle  and 
battle,  it  shall  subsist  with  them ;  not  otherwise. 

Rights  of  Man,  printed  on  Cotton  Handkerchiefs,  in  various  s 
dialects  of  human  speech,  pass  over  to  the  Frankfort  Fair.1' 
What  say  we,  Frankfort  Fair  ?  They  have  crossed  Euphrates,, 
and  the  fabulous  Hydaspes ;  wafted  themselves  beyond  the 
Ural,  Altai,  Himalaya ;  struck  off  from  wood  stereotypes,  in 
angular  Picture-writing,  they  are  jabbered  and  jingled  of  in. 
China  and  Japan.  Where  will  it  stop?  Kien-Lung  smells, 
mischief ;  not  the  remotest  Dalai-Lama  shall  now  knead  his 
dough-pills  in  peace.  —  Hateful  to  us,  as  is  the  Right !  Bestir 
yourselves,  ye  Defenders  of  Order  !  They  do  bestir  them¬ 
selves  :  all  Kings  and  Kinglets,  with  their  spiritual  temporal 
array,  are  astir ;  their  brows  crowded  with  menace.  Diplo¬ 
matic  emissaries  fly  swift;  Conventions,  privy  Conclaves  as¬ 
semble  ;  and  wise  wigs  wag,  taking  what  counsel  they  can. 

Also,  as  we  said,  the  Pamphleteer  draws  pen,  on  this,  side 
and  that :  zealous  fists  beat  the  Pulpit-drum.  Rot  without 
issue !  Did  not  iron  Birmingham,  shouting  “  Church  and 
King,”  itself  knew  not  why,  burst  out,  last  July,  into  rage, 
drunkenness  and  fire  ;  and  your  Priestleys,  and  the  like,  dining 
there  on  that  Bastille  day,  get  the  maddest  singeing:  scan¬ 
dalous  to  consider !  In  which  same  days,  as  we  can  remark, 
High  Potentates,  Austrian  and  Prussian,  with  Emigrants,  were 

1  Toulongeon,  i.  256. 


80  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

faring  towards  Pilnitz  in  Saxony ;  there,  on  the  27th  of 
August,  they,  keeping  to  themselves  what  farther  “  secret 
Treaty  ”  there  might  or  might  not  be,  did  publish  their  hopes 
and  their  threatenings,  their  Declaration  that  it  was  “the 
common  cause  of  Kings.” 

Where  a  will  to  quarrel  is,  there  is  a  way.  Our  readers 
remember  that  Pentecost-Night,  Fourth  of  August,  1789,  when 
Feudalism  fell  in  a  few  hours  ?  The  National  Assembly,  in 
abolishing  Feudalism,  promised  that  “  compensation  ”  should 
be  given;  and  did  endeavor  to  give  it.  Nevertheless  the  Aus¬ 
trian  Kaiser  answers  that  his  German  Princes,  for  their  part, 
cannot  be  unfeudalized  ;  that  they  have  possessions  in  French 
Alsace,  and  Feudal  Rights  secured  to  them,  for  which  no  con¬ 
ceivable  compensation  will  suffice.  So  this  of  the  Possessioned 
Princes,  “ Princes  Possessions, ”  is  bandied  from  Court  to 
Court ;  covers  acres  of  diplomatic  paper  at  this  day :  a  weari¬ 
ness  to  the  world.  Kaunitz  argues  from  Vienna ;  Delessart 
responds  from  Paris,  though  perhaps  not  sharply  enough. 
The  Kaiser  and  his  Possessioned  Princes  will  too  evidently 
come  and  take  compensation,  —  so  much  as  they  can  get. 
Nay  might  one  not  partition  France,  as  we  have  done  Poland, 
and  are  doing ;  and  so  pacify  it  with  a  vengeance  ? 

From  South  to  North!  For  actually  it  is  “the  common 
cause  of  Kings.”  Swedish  Gustav,  sworn  Knight  of  the  Queen 
of  France,  will  lead  Coalized  Armies  ;  —  had  not  Ankarstrom 
treasonously  shot  him  ;  for,  indeed,  there  were  griefs  nearer 
home.1  Austria  and  Prussia  speak  at  Pilnitz;  all  men  in¬ 
tensely  listening.  Imperial  Rescripts  have  gone  out  from 
Turin  ;  there  will  be  secret  Convention  at  Vienna.  Catherine 
of  Russia  beckons  approvingly;  will  help,  were  she  ready. 
Spanish  Bourbon  stirs  amid  his  pillows ;  from  him  too,  even 
from  him,  shall  there  come  help.  Lean  Pitt,  “  the  Minister  of 
Preparatives,”  looks  out  from  his  watch-tower  in  Saint  James’s, 
in  a  suspicious  manner.  Councillors  plotting,  Calonnes  dim- 
hovering  ;  —  alas,  Sergeants  rub-a-dubbing  openly  through  all 
manner  of  German  market-towns,  collecting  ragged  valor ! 2 

1  30th  March,  1792  (Annual  Register,  p.  11). 

2  Toulongeon,  ii.  100-117. 


Ch-ap.  V.  KINGS  AND  EMIGRANTS.  81 

1791-92. 

Look  where  you  will,  immeasurable  Obscurantism  is  girdling 
this  fair  France ;  which,  again,  will  not  be  girdled  by  it.  Eu¬ 
rope  is  in  travail;  pang  after  pang;  what  a  shriek  was  that 
of  Pilnitz  !  The  birth  will  be  :  War. 

Nay  the  worst  feature  of  the  business  is  this  last,  still  to  be 
named ;  the  Emigrants  at  Coblentz.  So  many  thousands  rank¬ 
ing  there,  in  bitter  hate  and  menace :  King’s  Brothers,  all 
Princes  of  the  Blood  except  wicked  D’Orleans  ;  your  duelling 
De  Castries,  your  eloquent  Cazales ;  bull-headed  Malseigne,  a 
war-god  Broglie ;  Distaff  Seigneurs,  insulted  Officers,  all  that 
have  ridden  across  the  Bhine-stream  ;  —  D’Artois  welcoming 
Abbe  Maury  with  a  kiss,  and  clasping  him  publicly  to  his  own 
royal  heart !  Emigration,  flowing  over  the  Frontiers,  now  in 
drops,  now  in  streams,  in  various  humors  of  fear,  of  petulance, 
rage  and  hope,  ever  since  those  first  Bastille  days  when  D’Ar¬ 
tois  went,  “  to  shame  the  citizens  of  Paris,”  —  has  swollen  to 
the  size  of  a  Phenomenon  for  the  world.  Coblentz  is  become 
a  small  extra-national  Versailles;  a  Versailles  in  partibus  : 
briguing,  intriguing,  favoritism,  strumpetocracy  itself,  they 
say,  goes  on  there ;  all  the  old  activities,  on  a  small  scale, 
quickened  by  hungry  Revenge. 

Enthusiasm,  of  loyalty,  of  hatred  and  hope,  has  risen  to 
a  high  pitch;  as,  in  any  Coblentz  tavern  you  may  hear,  in 
speech  and  in  singing.  Maury  assists  in  the  interior  Council ; 
much  is  decided  on :  for  one  thing,  they  keep  lists  of  the  dates 
of  your  emigrating ;  a  month  sooner,  or  a  month  later,  deter¬ 
mines  your  greater  or  your  less  right  to  the  coming  Division 
of  the  Spoil.  Cazales  himself,  because  ■  he  had  occasionally 
spoken  with  a  Constitutional  tone,  was  looked  on  coldly  at 
first :  so  pure  are  our  principles.1  And  arms  are  a-hammering 
at  Liege  ;  “  three  thousand  horses  ”  ambling  hitherward  from 
the  Fairs  of  Germany :  Cavalry  enrolling ;  likewise  Foot- 
soldiers,  “  in  blue  coat,  red  waistcoat  and  nankeen  trousers.”  3 
They  have  their  secret  domestic  correspondences,  as  their 
open  foreign :  with  disaffected  Crypto- Aristocrats,  with  contu- 

1  Montgaillard,  iii.  5-17.  Toulongeon,  ubi  supra. 

2  See  Hist.  Pari  xiii.  11-38,  41-61,  358,  &c. 

6 


VOL.  IV. 


82  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

macious  Priests,  witli  Austrian  Committee  in  the  Tuileries. 
Deserters  are  spirited  over  by  assiduous  crimps  ;  Royal- Alle- 
mand  is  gone  almost  wholly.  Their  route  of  march,  towards 
France  and  the  Division  of  the  Spoil,  is  marked  out,  were  the 
Kaiser  once  ready.  “  It  is  said,  they  mean  to  poison  the 
sources ;  but,”  adds  Patriotism  making  report  of  it,  “  they 
will  not  poison  the  source  of  Liberty;”  whereat  on  applaudit, 
we  cannot  but  applaud.  Also  they  have  manufactories  of 
False  Assignats ;  and  men  that  circulate  in  the  interior,  dis¬ 
tributing  and  disbursing  the  same ;  one  of  these  we  denounce 
now  to  Legislative  Patriotism :  “  a  man  Lebrun  by  name ; 
about  thirty  years  of  age,  with  blonde  hair  and  in  quantity ; 
has,”  only  for  the  time  being  surely,  “  a  black  eye,  ceil  poche  ; 
goes  in  a  wiski  with  a  black  horse,”  1  always  keeping  his 
Gig! 

Unhappy  Emigrants,  it  was  their  lot,  and  the  lot  of  France  ! 
They  are  ignorant  of  much  that  they  should  know :  of  them¬ 
selves,  of  what  is  around  them.  A  Political  Party  that  knows 
not  when  it  is  beaten,  may  become  one  of  the  fatalest  of  things, 
to  itself,  and  to  all.  Nothing  will  convince  these  men  that 
they  cannot  scatter  the  French  Revolution  at  the  first  blast  of 
their  war-trumpet ;  that  the  French  Revolution  is  other  than 
a  blustering  Effervescence,  of  brawlers  and  spouters,  which,  at 
the  flash  of  chivalrous  broadswords,  at  the  rustle  of  gallows- 
ropes,  will  burrow  itself,  in  dens  the  deeper  the  welcomer. 
But,  alas,  what  man  does  know  and  measure  himself,  and  the 
things  that  are  round  him ;  —  else  where  were  the  need  of 
physical  fighting  at  all?  Never  till  they  are  cleft  asunder, 
can  these  heads  believe  that  a  Sansculottic  arm  has  any  vigor 
in  it :  cleft  asunder,  it  will  be  too  late  to  believe. 

One  may  say,  without  spleen  against  his  poor  erring  brothers 
of  any  side,  that  above  all  other  mischiefs,  this  of  the  Emi¬ 
grant  Nobles  acted  fatally  on  France.  Could  they  have  known, 
could  they  have  understood !  In  the  beginning  of  1789,  a 
splendor  and  a  terror  still  surrounded  them :  the  Conflagration 
of  their  Chateaus,  kindled  by  months  of  obstinacy,  went  out 
after  the  Fourth  of  August ;  and  might  have  continued  out, 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  2  Novembre,  1791  (Hist.  Pari.  xii.  212). 


Chap.  Y.  KINGS  AND  EMIGRANTS.  83 

1791-92. 

had  they  at  all  known  what  to  defend,  what  to  relinquish  as 
indefensible.  They  were  still  a  graduated  Hierachy  of  Au¬ 
thorities,  or  the  accredited  similitude  of  such  :  they  sat  there, 
uniting  King  with  Commonalty  ;  transmitting  and  translating 
gradually ,  from  degree  to  degree,  the  command  of  the  one  into 
the  obedience  of  the  other ;  rendering  command  and  obedience 
still  possible.  Had  they  understood  their  place,  and  what  to 
do  in  it,  this  French  Revolution,  which  went  forth  explosively 
in  years  and  in  months,  might  have  spread  itself  over  gener¬ 
ations  ;  and  not  a  torture-death  but  a  quiet  euthanasia  have 
been  provided  for  many  things. 

But  they  were  proud  and  high,  these  men ;  they  were  not 
wise  to  consider.  They  spurned  all  from  them  in  disdainful 
hate,  they  drew  the  sword  and  flung  away  the  scabbard. 
France  has  not  only  no  Hierarchy  of  Authorities,  to  translate 
command  into  obedience  ;  its  Hierarchy  of  Authorities  has 
fled  to  the  enemies  of  France  ;  calls  loudly  on  the  enemies 
of  France  to  interfere  armed,  who  want  but  a  pretext  to  do 
that.  Jealous  Kings  and  Kaisers  might  have  looked  on  long, 
meditating  interference,  yet  afraid  and  ashamed  to  interfere  : 
but  now  do  not  the  King’s  Brothers,  and  all  French  Nobles, 
Dignitaries  and  Authorities  that  are  free  to  speak,  which  the 
King  himself  is  not,  —  passionately  invite  us,  in  the  name  of 
Right  and  of  Might  ?  Ranked  at  Coblentz,  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  thousand  stand  now  brandishing  their  weapons,  with 
the  cry :  On,  on  !  Yes,  Messieurs,  you  shall  on  ;  —  and  divide 
the  spoil  according  to  your  dates  of  emigrating. 

Of  all  which  things  a  poor  Legislative  Assembly,  and  Pa¬ 
triot  France,  is  informed :  by  denunciant  friend,  by  triumphant 
foe.  Sulleau’s  Pamphlets,  of  the  Rivarol  Staff  of  Genius,  cir¬ 
culate  ;  heralding  supreme  hope.  Durosoy’s  Placards  tapestry 
the  walls;  Chant  du  Cog  crows  day,  pecked  at  by  Tallien’s 
Ami  des  Citoyens.  Iving’s-Friend  Royou,  Ami  du  Hoi,  can 
name,  in  exact  arithmetical  ciphers,  the  contingents  of  the 
various  Invading  Potentates ;  in  all,  four  hundred  and  nine¬ 
teen  thousand  Foreign  fighting  men,  with  fifteen  thousand 
Emigrants.  Not  to  reckon  these  your  daily  and  hourly  deser- 


84  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

tions,  which  an  Editor  must  daily  record,  of  whole  Companies, 
and  even  Regiments,  crying  Vive  le  Iloi,  Vive  la  Heine,  and 
marching  over  with  banners  spread*:1  —  lies  all,  and  wind; 
yet  to  Patriotism  not  wind ;  nor,  alas,  one  day,  to  Royou ! 
Patriotism,  therefore,  may  brawl  and  babble  yet  a  little  while : 
but  its  hours  are  numbered :  Europe  is  coming  with  four 
hundred  and  nineteen  thousand  and  the  Chivalry  of  France ; 
the  gallows,  one  may  hope,  will  get  its  own. 


♦ 


CHAPTER  YI. 

BRIGANDS  AND  JALifcs. 

We  shall  have  War,  then;  and  on  what  terms!  With  an 
Executive  “  pretending,”  really  with  less  and  less  deceptive¬ 
ness  now,  “  to  be  dead ;  ”  casting  even  a  wishful  eye  towards 
the  enemy :  on  such  terms  we  shall  have  War. 

Public  Functionary  in  vigorous  action  there  is  none;* if  it 
be  not  Rivarol  with  his  Staff  of  Genius  and  tw*o  hundred  and 
eighty  Applauders.  The  Public  Service  lies  waste ;  the  very 
Tax-gatherer  has  forgotten  his  cunning :  in  this  and  the  other 
Pro  vincial  Board  of  Management  ( Directoire  de  Departement) 
it  is  found  advisable  to  retain  what  Taxes  you  can  gather,  to 
pay  your  own  inevitable  expenditures.  Our  Revenue  is  Assig¬ 
nats  ;  emission  on  emission  of  Paper-money.  And  the  Army  ; 
our  Three  grand  Armies,  of  Rochambeau,  of  Llickner,  of  La¬ 
fayette  ?  Lean,  disconsolate  hover  these  Three  grand  Armies, 
watching  the  Frontiers  there  ;  three  Flights  of  long-necked 
Cranes  in  moulting-time  ;  —  wrecked,  disobedient,  disorgan¬ 
ized  ;  who  never  saw  fire ;  the  old  Generals  and  Officers  gone 
across  the  Rhine.  War-Minister  Narbonne,  he  of  the  rose- 
colored  Reports,  solicits  recruitments,  equipments,  money, 
always  money ;  threatens,  since  he  can  get  none,  to  “  take 


1  Ami  du  Roi  Newspaper  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  175). 


Chap.  VI.  BRIGANDS  AND  JALES.  85 

1791-92. 

his  sword/’  which,  belongs  to  himself,  and  go  serve  his  country 
with  that.1 

The  question  of  questions  is  :  What  shall  be  done  ?  Shall 
we,  with  a  desperate  defiance  which  Fortune  sometimes  favors, 
draw  the  sword  at  once,  in  the  face  of  this  in-rushing  world 
of  Emigration  and  Obscurantism  5  or  wait,  and  temporize  and 
diplomatize,  till,  if  possible,  our  resources  mature  themselves 
a  little  ?  And  yet  again,  are  our  resources  growing  towards 
maturity ;  or  growing  the  other  way  ?  Dubious :  the  ablest 
Patriots  are  divided  ;  Brissot  and  his  Brissotins,  or  Girondins, 
in  the  Legislative,  cry  aloud  for  the  former  defiant  plan; 
Robespierre,  in  the  Jacobins,  pleads  as  loud  for  the  latter 
dilatory  one :  with  responses,  even  with  mutual  reprimands ; 
distracting  the  Mother  of  Patriotism.  Consider  also  what 
agitated  Breakfasts  there  may  be  at  Madame  d’Udon’s,  in  the 
Place  Yendome  !  The  alarm  of  all  men  is  great.  Help,  ye 
Patriots  ;  and  oh  at  least  agree  ;  for  the  hour  presses.  Frost 
was  not  yet  gone,  when  in  that  “  tolerably  handsome  apart¬ 
ment  of  the  Castle  of  Niort,”  there  arrived  a  Letter  :  General 
Dumouriez  must  to  Paris.  It  is  War-Minister  Narbonne  that 
writes ;  the  General  shall  give  counsel  about  many  things.2 
In  the  month  of  February,  1792,  Brissotin  friends  welcome 
their  Dumouriez  Polymetis ,  —  comparable  really  to  an  antique 
Ulysses  in  modern  costume ;  quick,  elastic,  shifty,  insuppres- 
sible,  a  “  many-counselled  man.” 

Let  the  Reader  fancy  this  fair  France  with  a  whole  Cimme¬ 
rian  Europe  girdling  her,  rolling  in  on  her,  black,  to  burst  in 
red  thunder  of  War ;  fair  France  herself  hand-shackled  and 
foot-shackled  in  the  weltering  complexities  of  this  Social 
Clothing,  or  Constitution,  which  they  have  made  for  her ;  a 
France  that,  in  such  Constitution,  cannot  march  !  And  Hun¬ 
ger  too ;  and  plotting  Aristocrats,  and  excommunicating  Dissi¬ 
dent  Priests :  “  the  man  Lebrun  by  name  ”  urging  his  black 
wiski,  visible  to  the  eye  ;  and,  still  more  terrible  in  his  invisi- 

1  Moniteur ,  Seance  du  23  Janvier,  1792.  Biographie  des  Ministres,  §  Nap 
bonne. 

2  Dumouriez,  ii.  c.  6. 


86 


PARLIAMENT  FIRST. 


Book  XII. 
1792. 

bility,  Engineer  Goguelat,  with  Queen’s  cipher,  riding  and 
running ! 

The  excommunicatory  Priests  give  new  trouble  in  the  Maine 
and  Loire ;  La  Vendee,  nor  Cathelineau  the  wool-dealer,  has 
not  ceased  grumbling  and  rumbling.  Nay  behold  Jales  itself 
once  more  :  how  often  does  that  real-imaginary  Camp  of  the 
Fiend  require  to  be  extinguished  !  For  near  two  years  now, 
it  has  waned  faint  and  again  waxed  bright,  in  the  bewildered 
soul  of  Patriotism  :  actually,  if  Patriotism  knew  it,  one  of 
the  most  surprising  products  of  Nature  working  with  Art. 
Royalist  Seigneurs,  under  this  or  the  other  pretext,  assemble 
the  simple  people  of  these  Cevennes  Mountains ;  men  not 
unused  to  revolt,  and  with  heart  for  fighting,  could  their  poor 
heads  be  got  persuaded.  The  Royalist  Seigneur  harangues ; 
harping  mainly  on  the  religious  string :  “  True  Priests  mal¬ 
treated,  false  Priests  intruded,  Protestants  (once  dragooned) 
now  triumphing,  things  sacred  given  to  the  dogs  ;  ”  and  so  pro¬ 
duces,  from  the  pious  Mountaineer  throat,  rough  growlings :  — 
“  Shall  we  not  testify,  then,  ye  brave  hearts  of  the  Cevennes ; 
march  to  the  rescue  ?  Holy  Religion  ;  duty  to  God  and  the 
King  ?  ”  —  “  Si  fait,  si  fait,  Just  so,  just  so,”  answer  the  brave 
hearts  always  :  u  Mais  il  y  a  de  bien  bonnes  choses  dans  la  Revolu¬ 
tion,  But  there  are  main  good  things  in  the  Revolution  too  !  ”  — 
And  so  the  matter,  cajole  as  we  may,  will  only  turn  on  its  axis, 
not  stir  from  the  spot,  and  remain  theatrical  merely.1 

Nevertheless  deepen  your  cajolery,  harp  quick  and  quicker, 
ye  Royalist  Seigneurs  ;  with  a  dead-lift  effort  you  may  bring 
it  to  that.  In  the  month  of  J une  next,  this  Camj)  of  Jales 
will  step  forth  as  a  theatricality  suddenly  become  real ;  two 
thousand  strong,  and  with  the  boast  that  it  is  seventy  thou¬ 
sand  :  most  strange  to  see ;  with  flags  flying,  bayonets  fixed ; 
with  Proclamation  and  L>’ Artois  Commission  of  civil  war ! 
Let  some  Rebecqui,  or  other  the  like  hot-clear  Patriot;  let 
some  “Lieutenant-Colonel  Aubry,”  if  Rebecqui  is  busy  else¬ 
where,  raise  instantaneous  National  Guards,  and  disperse  and 
dissolve  it ;  and  blow  the  Old  Castle  asunder,2  that  so,  if  pos¬ 
sible,  we  hear  of  it  no  more ! 

1  Dainpmartin,  i.  201.  2  Moniteur,  Seance  du  15  Juillet,  1792. 


Chap.  VII.  CONSTITUTION  WILL  NOT  MARCH.  87 

1791-92. 

In  the  Months  of  February  and  March,  it  is  recorded,  the 
terror,  especially  of  rural  France,  had  risen  even  to  the  tran¬ 
scendental  pitch :  not  far  from  madness.  In  Town  and  Ham¬ 
let  is  rumor,  of  war,  massacre  :  that  Austrians,  Aristocrats, 
above  all,  that  The  Brigands  are  close  by.  Men  quit  their 
houses  and  huts  ;  rush  fugitive,  shrieking,  with  wife  and 
child,  they  know  not  whither.  Such  a  terror,  the  eye-wit¬ 
nesses  say,  never  fell  on  a  Nation;  nor  shall  again  fall,  even 
in  Reigns  of  Terror  expressly  so  called.  The  Countries  of 
the  Loire,  all  the  Central  and  Southeast  regions,  start  up 
distracted,  “  simultaneously  as  by  an  electric  shock  ;  ”  —  for 
indeed  grain  too  gets  scarcer  and  scarcer.  “  The  people  bar¬ 
ricade  the  entrances  of  Towns,  pile  stones  in  the  upper  stories, 
the  women  prepare  boiling  water ;  from  moment  to  moment, 
expecting  the  attack.  In  the  Country,  the  alarm-bell  rings 
incessant;  troops  of  peasants,  gathered  by  it,  scour  the  high¬ 
ways,  seeking  an  imaginary  enemy.  They  are  armed  mostly 
with  scythes  stuck  ,in  wood ;  and,  arriving  in  wild  troops  at 
the  barricaded  Towns,  are  themselves  sometimes  taken  for 
Brigands.”  1 

So  rushes  old  France :  old  France  is  rushing  down.  What 
the  end  will  be  is  known  to  no  mortal ;  that  the  end  is  near 
all  mortals  may  know. 

—  - 


CHAPTER  YIL 

CONSTITUTION  WILL  NOT  MARCH. 

To  all  which  our  poor  Legislative,  tied  up  by  an  unmarching 
Constitution,  can  oppose  nothing,  by  way  of  remedy,  but  mere 
bursts  of  parliamentary  eloquence  !  They  go  on,  debating, 
denouncing,  objurgating:  loud  weltering  Chaos,  which  devours 
itself. 

But  their  two  thousand  and  odd  Decrees  ?  Reader,  these 
happily  concern  not  thee,  nor  me.  Mere  Occasional  Decrees, 
1  Newspapers,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  325). 


88  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

foolish  and  not  foolish  ;  sufficient  for  that  day  was  its  own 
evil !  Of  the  whole  two  thousand  there  are  not  now  half  a 
score,  and  these  mostly  blighted  in  the  bud  by  royal  Veto ,  that 
will  profit  or  disprofit  us.  On  the  17th  January,  the  Legis¬ 
lative,  for  one  thing,  got  its  High  Court,  its  Iiaute  Cour,  set 
up  at  Orleans.  The  theory  had  been  given  by  the  Constituent, 
in  May  last,  but  this  is  the  reality  :  a  Court  for  the  trial  of 
Political  Offences ;  a  Court  which  cannot  want  work.  To  this 
it  was  decreed  that  there  needed  no  royal  Acceptance,  there¬ 
fore  that  there  could  be  no  Veto.  Also  Priests  can  now  be 
married  ;  ever  since  last  October.  A  patriotic  adventurous 
Priest  had  made  bold  to  marry  himself  then ;  and  not  think¬ 
ing  this  enough,  came  to  the  bar  with  his  new  spouse  ;  that 
the  whole  world  might  hold  honeymoon  with  him,  and  a  Law 
be  obtained. 

Less  joyful  are  the  Laws  against  Refractory  Priests ;  and 
yet  not  less  needful  !  Decrees  on  Priests  and  Decrees  on 
Emigrants  :  these  are  the  two  brief  Series  of  Decrees,  worked 
out  with  endless  debate,  and  then  cancelled  by  Veto,  which 
mainly  concern  us  here.  For  an  august  National  Assembly 
must  needs  conquer  these  Refractories,  Clerical  or  Laic,  and 
thumbscrew  them  into  obedience  :  yet,  behold,  always  as  you 
turn  your  legislative  thumbscrew,  and  will  press  and  even 
crush  till  Refractories  give  way,  —  King’s  Veto  steps  in  with 
magical  paralysis  ;  and  your  thumbscrew,  hardly  squeezing, 
much  less  crushing,  does  not  act  • 

Truly  a  melancholy  Set  of  Decrees,  a  pair  of  Sets;  para¬ 
lyzed  by  Veto  ■  First,  under  date  the  28th  of  October,  1791, 
we  have  Legislative  Proclamation,  issued  by  herald  and  bill- 
sticker  ;  inviting  Monsieur,  the  King’s  Brother,  to  return 
within  two  months,  under  penalties.  To  which  invitation 
Monsieur  replies  nothing  :  or  indeed  replies  by  Newspaper 
Parody,  inviting  the  august  Legislative  “  to  return  to  common 
sense  within  two  months,”  under  penalties.  Whereupon  the 
Legislative  must  take  stronger  measures.  So,  on  the  9th  of 
November,  we  declare  all  Emigrants  to  be  u  suspect  of  con¬ 
spiracy  ;  ”  and,  in  brief,  to  be  “  outlawed,”  if  they  have  not 
returned  at  New-year’s-day:  — Will  the  King  say  Veto  ?  That 


chap.  VII.  CONSTITUTION  WILL  NOT  MARCH.  89 

1791-92. 

“  triple  impost  ”  shall  be  levied  on  these  men’s  Properties, 
or  even  their  Properties  be  “  put  in  sequestration,”  one  can 
understand.  But  farther,  on  New-year’s-day  itself,  not  an 
individual  having  “  returned,”  we  declare,  and  with  fresh  em¬ 
phasis  some  fortnight  later  again  declare,  That  Monsieur  is 
dechu ,  forfeited  of  his  eventful  Heirship  to  the  Crown ;  nay 
more,  that  Conde,  Calonne,  and  a  considerable  List  of  others 
are  accused  of  high  treason  ;  and  shall  be  judged  by  our  High 
Court  of  Orleans  :  Veto  !  —  Then  again  as  to  Non-jurant 
Priests  :  it  was  decreed,  in  November  last,  that  they  should 
forfeit  what  Pensions  they  had  ;  be  “  put  under  inspection, 
under  surveillance and,  if  need  were,  be  banished  :  Veto  ! 
A  still  sharper  turn  is  coming;  but  to  this  also  the  answer 
will  be,  Veto. 

Veto  after  Veto  ;  your  thumbscrew  paralyzed  !  Gods  and 
men  may  see  that  the  Legislative  is  in  a  false  position.  As, 
alas,  who  is  in  a  true  one  ?  Voices  already  murmur  for  a 
“  National  Convention.”  1  This  poor  Legislative,  spurred  and 
stung  into  action  by  a  whole  France  and  a  whole  Europe, 
cannot  act ;  can  only  objurgate  and  perorate ;  with  stormy 
“  motions,”  and  motion  in  which  is  no  way ;  with  efferves¬ 
cence,  with  noise  and  fuliginous  fury  ! 

What  scenes  in  that  National  Hall !  President  jingling  his 
inaudible  bell;  or,  as  utmost  signal  of  distress,  clapping  on 
his  hat ;  “  the  tumult  subsiding  in  twenty  minutes,”  and  this 
or  the  other  indiscreet  Member  sent  to  the  Abbaye  Prison  for 
three  days  !  Suspected  Persons  must  be  summoned  and  ques¬ 
tioned  ;  old  M.  de  Sombreuil  of  the  Invalides  has  to  give 
account  of  himself,  and  why  he  leaves  his  Gates  open.  Un¬ 
usual  smoke  rose  from  the  Sevres  Pottery,  indicating  con¬ 
spiracy  ;  the  Potters  explained  that  it  was  Necklace-Lamotte’s 
Memoires,  bought  up  by  her  Majesty,  which  they  were  endeav¬ 
oring  to  suppress  by  fire,2 — which  nevertheless  he  that  runs 
may  still  read. 

Again,  it  would  seem,  Duke  de  Brissac  and  the  King’s 
Constitutional  Guard  are  “  making  cartridges  secretly  in  the 
1  December,  1791  (Hist.  Pari.  xii.  257). 

Moniteur,  Seance  du  28  Mai,  1792.  Campan,  ii.  196. 


90  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1791-92. 

cellars  :  ”  a  set  of  Royalists,  pure  and  impure  ;  black  cut¬ 
throats  many  of  them,  picked  out  of  gaming-houses  and  sinks ; 
in  all  six  thousand  instead  of  eighteen  hundred ;  who  evi¬ 
dently  gloom  on  us  every  time  we  enter  the  Chateau.1  Where¬ 
fore,  with  infinite  debate,  let  Brissac  and  King’s  Guard  be 
disbanded.  Disbanded  accordingly  they  are ;  after  only  two 
months  of  existence,  for  they  did  not  get  on  foot  till  March 
of  this  same  year.  So  ends  briefly  the  King’s  new  Consti¬ 
tutional  Maison  Militaire ;  he  must  now  be  guarded  by  mere 
Swiss  and  blue  Nationals  again.  It  seems  the  lot  of  Consti¬ 
tutional  things.  New  Constitutional  Maison  Civile  he  would 
never  even  establish,  much  as  Barnave  urged  it ;  old  resident 
Duchesses  sniffed  at  it,  and  held  aloof ;  on  the  whole  her 
Majesty  thought  it  not  worth  while,  the  Noblesse  would  so 
soon  be  back  triumphant.2 

Or,  looking  still  into  this  National  Hall  and  its  scenes,  be¬ 
hold  Bishop  Torne,  a  Constitutional  Prelate,  not  of  severe 
morals,  demanding  that  u  religious  .costumes  and  such  carica¬ 
tures  ”  be  abolished.  Bishop  Torne  warms,  catches  fire ;  fin¬ 
ishes  by  untying,  and  indignantly  flinging  on  the  table,  as  if 
for  gage  or  bet,  his  own  pontifical  cross.  Which  cross,  at  any 
rate,  is  instantly  covered  by  the  cross  of  Te-Deum  Fauchet, 
then  by  other  crosses  and  insignia,  till  all  are  stripped ;  this 
clerical  Senator  clutching  off  his  skull-cap,  that  other  his  frill- 
collar, —  lest  Fanaticism  return  on  us.3 

Quick  is  the  movement  here !  And  then  so  confused,  un¬ 
substantial,  you  might  call  it  almost  spectral :  pallid,  dim, 
inane,  like  the  Kingdoms  of  Dis  !  Unruly  Linguet,  shrunk  to 
a  kind  of  spectre  for  us,  pleads  here  some  cause  that  he  has ; 
amid  rumor  and  interruption,  which  excel  human  patience :  he 
“  tears  his  papers,  and  withdraws,”  the  irascible  adust  little 
man.  Nay  honorable  Members  will  tear  their  papers,  being 
effervescent :  Merlin  of  Thionville  tears  his  papers,  crying : 
“  So,  the  People  cannot  be  saved  by  you  !  ”  Nor  are  Depu¬ 
tations  wanting  :  Deputations  of  Sections  ;  generally  with 
complaint  and  denouncement,  always  with  Patriot  fervor  of 

1  Dumouriez,  ii.  108.  2  Campan,  ii.  c.  19. 

8  Moniteur,  du  7  Avril,  1792.  Deux  Amis,  vii.  111. 


chap.  Vlt.  CONSTITUTION  WILL  NOT  MARCH.  91 

1792. 

sentiment  :  Deputation  of  Women,  pleading  that  they  also 
may  be  allowed  to  take  Pikes,  and  exercise  in  the  Champ-de- 
Mars.  Why  not,  ye  Amazons,  if  it  be  in  you  ?  Then  occa¬ 
sionally,  having  done  our  message  and  got  answer,  we  “  defile 
through  the  Hall  singing  ga-ira ;  ”  or  rather  roll  and  whirl 
through  it,  “  dancing  our  ronde  patriotique  the  while,”  — 
our  new  Carmagnole,  or  Pyrrhic  war -dance  and  liberty-dance. 
Patriot  Huguenin,  Ex-Advocate,  Ex-Carbineer,  Ex-Clerk  of 
the  Barriers,  comes  deputed,  with  Saint-Antoine  at  his  heels  ; 
denouncing  Anti-patriotism,  Famine,  Fores talment  and  Man- 
eaters  ;  asks  an  august  Legislative :  “  Is  there  not  a  tocsin  in 
your  hearts  against  these  mangeurs  $  hom  ines  !  ”  1 

But  above  all  things,  for  this  is  a  continual  business,  the 
Legislative  has  to  reprimand  the  King’s  Ministers.  Of  his 
Majesty’s  Ministers  we  have  said  hitherto,  and  say,  next  to 
nothing.  Still  more  spectral  these  !  Sorrowful ;  of  no  per¬ 
manency  any  of  them,  none  at  least  since  Montmorin  van¬ 
ished  :  the  “  eldest  of  the  King’s  Council  ”  is  occasionally  not 
ten  days  old.2  Feuillant-Constitutional,  as  your  respectable 
Cahier  de  Gerville,  as  your  respectable  unfortunate  Deles- 
sarts  ;  or  Royalist-Constitutional,  as  Montmorin  last  Friend 
of  Necker or  Aristocrat,  as  Bertrand-Moleville :  they  flit 
there  phantom-like,  in  the  huge  simmering  confusion ;  poor 
shadows,  dashed  in  the  racking  winds  ;  powerless,  without 
meaning  ;  —  whom  the  human  memory  need  not  charge  itself 
with. 

But  how  often,  we  say,  are  these  poor  Majesty’s  Ministers 
summoned  over ;  to  be  questioned,  tutored ;  nay  threatened, 
almost  bullied !  They  answer  what,  with  adroitest  simula¬ 
tion  and  casuistry,  they  can :  of  which  a  poor  Legislative 
knows  not  what  to  make.  One  thing  only  is  clear,  That 
Cimmerian  Europe  is  girdling  us  in ;  that  France  (not  ac¬ 
tually  dead,  surely  ?)  cannot  march.  Have  a  care,  ye  Minis¬ 
ters  !  Sharp  Guadet  transfixes  you  with  cross-questions, 
with  sudden  Advocate-conclusions  ;  the  sleeping  tempest  that 
is  in  Vergniaud  can  be  awakened.  Restless  Brissot  brings 

1  See  Moniteur,  Se'anees  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  xiv.). 

2  Duinouriez,  ii.  137. 


92  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

up  Reports,  Accusations,  endless  thin  Logic;  it  is  the  man’s 
high-day  even  now.  Condorcet  redacts,  with  his  firm  pen,  our 
“  Address  of  the  Legislative  Assembly  to  the  French  Na¬ 
tion.”  1  Fiery  Max  Isnard,  who,  for  the  rest,  will  “  carry  not 
Fire  and  Sword  ”  on  those  Cimmerian  Enemies,  “  but  Lib¬ 
erty,”  —  is  for  declaring  “  that  we  hold  Ministers  responsible ; 
and  that  by  responsibility  we  mean  death,  nous  entendons  la 
mort .” 

For  verily  it  grows  serious :  the  time  presses,  and  traitors 
there  are.  Bertrand-Moleville  has  a  smooth  tongue,  the  known 
Aristocrat ;  gall  in  his  heart.  How  his  answers  and  explana¬ 
tions  flow  ready;  jesuitic,  plausible  to  the  ear!  But  perhaps 
the  notablest  is  this,  which  befell  once  when  Bertrand  had 
done  answering  and  was  withdrawn.  Scarcely  had  the  august 
Assembly  begun  considering  what  was  to  be  done  with  him, 
when  the  Hall  fills  with  smoke.  Thick  sour  smoke :  no  ora¬ 
tory,  only  wheezing  and  barking ;  —  irremediable  ;  so  that 
the  august  Assembly  has  to  adjourn  ! 2  A  miracle  ?  Typical 
miracle  ?  One  knows  not :  only  this  one  seems  to  know,  that 
“  the  Keeper  of  the  Stoves  was  appointed  by  Bertrand  ”  or  by 
some  underling  of  his !  —  0  fuliginous  confused  Kingdom  of 
His,  with  thy  Tantalus-Ixion  toils,  with  thy  angry  Fire-floods, 
and  Streams  named  of  Lamentation,  why  hast  thou  not  thy 
Lethe  too,  that  so  one  might  finish  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  JACOBINS. 

Nevertheless  let  not  Patriotism  despair.  Have  we  not,  in 
Paris  at  least,  a  virtuous  Petion,  a  wholly  Patriotic  Munici¬ 
pality  ?  Virtuous  Petion,  ever  since  November,  is  Mayor  of 

1  16th  February,  1792  ( Choix  des  Rapports,  viii.  375-392). 

2  Courrier  de  Paris,  14  Janvier,  1792  (Gorsas’s  Newspaper),  in  Hist.  Pari. 
xiii.  83. 


Chap.  VIII.  THE  JACOBINS.  93 

1792. 

Paris :  in  our  Municipality,  the  Public,  for  the  Public  is  now 
admitted  too,  may  behold  an  energetic  Danton ;  farther  an 
epigrammatic  slow-sure  Manuel ;  a  resolute  unrepentant  Bil- 
laud-Varennes,  of  Jesuit  breeding;  Tallien  able  editor;  and 
nothing  but  Patriots,  better  or  worse.  So  ran  the  November 
Elections:  to  the  joy  of  most  citizens;  nay  the  very  Court 
supported  Petion  rather  than  Lafayette.  And  so  Bailly  and 
his  Feuillants,  long  waning  like  the  Moon,  had  to  withdraw 
then,  making,  some  sorrowful  obeisance,1  into  extinction :  — 
or  indeed  into  worse,  into  lurid  half-light,  grimmed  by  the 
shadow  of  that  Eed  Flag  of  theirs,  and  bitter  memory  of  the 
Champ-de-Mars.  How  swift  is  the  progress  of  things  and 
men!  Not  now  does  Lafayette,  as  on  that  Federation-day, 
when  his  noon  was,  “  press  his  sword  firmly  on  the  Father¬ 
land’s  Altar,”  and  swear  in  sight  of  France :  ah  no ;  he, 
waning  and  setting  ever  since  that  hour,  hangs  now,  disas¬ 
trous,  on  the  edge  of  the  horizon ;  commanding  one  of  those 
Three  moulting  Crane-flights  of  Armies,  in  a  most  suspected, 
unfruitful,  uncomfortable  manner. 

But,  at  worst,  cannot  Patriotism,  so  many  thousand  strong 
in  this  Metropolis  of  the  Universe,  help  itself  ?  Has  it  not 
right-hands,  pikes  ?  Hammering  of  Pikes,  which  was  not  to 
be  prohibited  by  Mayor  Bailly,  has  been  sanctioned  by  Mayor 
Petion ;  sanctioned  by  Legislative  Assembly.  How  not,  when 
the  King’s  so-called  Constitutional  Guard  “was  making  car¬ 
tridges  in  secret  ”  ?  Changes  are  necessary  for  the  National 
Guard  itself ;  this  whole  Feuillant- Aristocrat  Staff  of  the 
Guard  must  be  disbanded.  Likewise,  citizens  without  uni¬ 
form  may  surely  rank  in  the  Guard,  the  pike  beside  the 
musket,  in  such  a  time  :  the  u  active  ”  citizen  and  the  passive 
who  can  fight  for  us,  are  they  not  both  welcome  ?  —  0  my 
Patriot  friends,  indubitably  Yes !  Nay  the  truth  is,  Patriot¬ 
ism  throughout,  were  it  never  so  white-frilled,  logical,  re¬ 
spectable,  must  either  lean  itself  heartily  on  Sansculottism, 
the  black,  bottomless  ;  or  else  vanish,  in  the  frightfulest  way, 
to  Limbo  !  Thus  some,  with  upturned  nose,  will  altogether 
sniff  and  disdain  Sansculottism ;  others  will  lean  heartily  on 

1  Discours  de  Bailly,  R&ponse  de  Petion  ( Moniteur  du  20  Noverabre,  1791). 


94  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  BookXH. 

1792. 

it ;  nay  others  again  will  lean  what  we  call  heartlessly  on  it : 
three  sorts  ;  each  sort  with  a  destiny  corresponding. 

In  such  point  of  view,  however,  have  we  not  for  the  present 
a  Volunteer  Ally,  stronger  than  all  the  rest;  namely,  Hunger  ? 
Hunger  ;  and  what  rushing  of  Panic  Terror  this  and  the  sum- 
total  of  our  other  miseries  may  bring !  For  Sansculottism 
grows  by  what  all  other  things  die  of.  Stupid  Peter  Bailie 
almost  made  au  epigram,  though  unconsciously,  and  with  the 
Patriot  world  laughing  not  at  it  but  at  him,  when  he  wrote  : 
“  Tout  va  bien  ici,  le  pain  manque,  All  goes  well  here,  food  is 
not  to  be  had.” 1 

Neither,  if  you  knew  it,  is  Patriotism  without  her  Constitu¬ 
tion  that  can  march ;  her  not  impotent  Parliament ;  or  call  it 
Ecumenic  Council,  and  General  Assembly  of  the  Jean- Jacques 
Churches  :  the  Mother  Society,  namely  !  Mother  Society 
with  her  three  hundred  full-grown  Daughters  ;  with  what  we 
can  call  little  Granddaughters  trying  to  walk,  in  every  village 
of  France,  numerable,  as  Burke  thinks,  by  the  hundred  thou¬ 
sand.  This  is  the  true  Constitution ;  made  not  by  twelve 
hundred  august  Senators,  but  by  Nature  herself ;  and  has 
grown,  unconsciously,  out  of  the  wants  and  the  efforts  of  these 
Twenty-five  Millions  of  men.  They  are  “  Lords  of  the  Arti¬ 
cles,”  our  Jacobins  ;  they  originate  debates  for  the  Legislative ; 
discuss  Peace  and  War ;  settle  beforehand  what  the  Legisla¬ 
tive  is  to  do.  Greatly  to  the  scandal  of  philosophical  men, 
and  of  most  Historians  ;  —  who  do  in  that  judge  naturally,  and 
yet  not  wisely.  A  Governing  Power  must  exist :  your  other 
powers  here  are  simulacra ;  this  power  is  it. 

Great  is  the  Mother  Society ;  she  has  had  the  honor  to  be 
denounced  by  Austrian  Kaunitz ; 2  and  is  all  the  dearer  to 
Patriotism.  By  fortune  and  valor  she  has  extinguished  Feuil- 
lantism  itself,  at  least  the  Feuillant  Club.  This  latter,  high 
as  it  once  carried  its  head,  she,  on  the  18th  of  February,  has  the 
satisfaction  to  see  shut,  extinct ;  Patriots  having  gone  thither, 
with  tumult,  to  hiss  it  out  of  pain.  The  Mother  Society  has 
enlarged  her  locality,  stretches  now  over  the  whole  nave  of  the 
Church.  Let  us  glance  in,  with  the  worthy  Toulongeon,  our 
1  Barbaroux,  p.  94.  2  Alonileur ,  Seance  du  29  Mars.  1792. 


THE  JACOBINS. 


95 


Chap.  VIII. 
1792. 


old  Ex-Constituent  Friend,  who  happily  has  eyes  to  see.  “  The 
nave  of  the  J acobins  Church/’  says  he,  “  is  changed  into  a  vast 
Circus,  the  seats  of  which  mount  up  circularly  like  an  amphi¬ 
theatre  to  the  very  groin  of  the  domed  roof.  A  high  Pyramid 
of  black  marble,  built  against  one  of  the  walls,  which  was  for¬ 
merly  a  funeral  monument,  has  alone  been  left  standing:  it 
serves  now  as  back  to  the  Office-bearers’  Bureau.  Here  on  an 
elevated  Platform  sit  President  and  Secretaries,  behind  and 
above  them  the  white  Busts  of  Mirabeau,  of  Franklin,  and 
various  others,  nay  finally  of  Marat.  Facing  this  is  the  Trib¬ 
une,  raised  till  it  is  midway  between  floor  and  groin  of  the 
dome,  so  that  the  speaker’s  voice  may  be  in  the  centre.  From 
that  point  thunder  the  voices  which  shake  all  Europe :  down 
below,  in  silence,  are  forging  the  thunderbolts  and  the  fire¬ 
brands.  Penetrating  into  this  huge  circuit,  where  all  is  out  of 
measure,  gigantic,  the  mind  cannot  repress  some  movement 
of  terror  and  wronder ;  the  imagination  recalls  those  dread 
temples  which  Poetry,  of  old,  had  consecrated  to  the  Avenging 
Deities.”  1 

Scenes  too  are  in  this  Jacobin  Amphitheatre,  —  had  History 
time  for  them.  Flags  of  the  “Three  Free  Peoples  of  the  Uni¬ 
verse,”  trinal  brotherly  flags  of  England,  America,  France, 
have  been  waved  here  in  concert ;  by  London  Deputation,  of 
Whigs  or  Wighs  and  their  Club,  on  this  hand,  and  by  young 
French  Citoyennes  on  that;  beautiful  sweet-ton gued  Female 
Citizens,  wTho  solemnly  send  over  salutation  and  brotherhood, 
also  Tricolor  stitched  by  their  own  needle,  and  finally  Ears  of 
Wheat ;  while  the  dome  rebellows  with  Vivent  les  trois  jpeujoles 
libres  !  from  all  throats  :  —  a  most  dramatic  scene.  Demoiselle 
Theroigne  recites,  from  that  Tribune  in  mid-air,  her  persecu¬ 
tions  in  Austria ;  comes  leaning  on  the  arm  of  J oseph  Chenier, 
Poet  Chenier,  to  demand  Liberty  for  the  hapless  Swiss  of 
Chateau-Vieux.2  Be  of  hope,  ye  forty  Swiss ;  tugging  there,  in 
the  Brest  waters  ;  not  forgotten  ! 

Deputy  Brissot  perorates  from  that  Tribune;  Desmoulins, 
our  wicked  Camille,  interjecting  audibly  from  below,  “  Co* 


1  Toulongeon,  ii.  124. 

2  Debats  des  Jacobins  (Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  259,  &c.). 


96  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

quin  !  ”  Here,  though  oftener  in  the  Cordeliers,  reverberates 
the  lion-voice  of  Danton  ;  grim  Billaud-Varennes  is  here ;  Collot- 
d’Herbois,  pleading  for  the  Forty  Swiss,  tearing  a  passion  to 
rags.  Apophthegmatic  Manuel  winds  up  in  this  pithy  way : 
“  A  Minister  must  perish !  ”  —  to  which  the  Amphitheatre 
responds  :  “  Tons,  Tons,  All,  All !  ”  But  the  Chief  Priest  and 
Speaker  of  this  place,  as  we  said,  is  Robespierre,  the  long- 
winded  incorruptible  man.  What  spirit  of  Patriotism  dwelt 
in  men  in  those  times,  this  one  fact,  it  seems  to  us,  will  evince : 
that  fifteen  hundred  human  creatures,  not  bound  to  it,  sat  quiet 
under  the  oratory  of  Robespierre ;  nay  listened  nightly,  hour 
after  hour,  applausive ;  and  gaped  as  for  the  word  of  life. 
More  insupportable  individual,  one  would  say,  seldom  opened 
his  mouth  in  any  Tribune.  Acrid,  implacable-impotent ;  dull- 
drawling,  barren  as  the  Harmattan  wind.  He  pleads,  in  end¬ 
less  earnest-shallow  speech,  against  immediate  War,  against 
Woollen  Caps  or  Bonnets  Rouges ,  against  many  things;  and  is 
the  Trismegistus  and  Dalai-Lama  of  Patriot  men.  Whom 
nevertheless  a  shrill-voiced  little  man,  yet  with  fine  eyes  and 
a  broad  beautifully  sloping  brow,  rises  respectfully  to  contro¬ 
vert;  he  is,  say  the  Newspaper  Reporters,  “  M.  Louvet,  Author 
of  the  charming  Romance  of  Faublas.”  Steady,  ye  Patriots ! 
Pull  not  yet  two  ways ;  with  a  France  rushing  panic-stricken 
in  the  rural  districts,  and  a  Cimmerian  Europe  storming  in 
on  you ! 

- <y - 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MINISTER  ROLAND. 

About  the  vernal  equinox,  however,  one  unexpected  gleam 
of  hope  does  burst  forth  on  Patriotism :  the  appointment  of  a 
thoroughly  Patriot  Ministry.  This  also  his  Majesty,  among 
his  innumerable  experiments  of  wedding  fire  to  water,  will  try. 
Quod  bonum  sit.  Madame  d’Udon’s  Breakfasts  have  jingled 
with  a  new  significance ;  not  even  G-enevese  Dumont  but  had  a 
word  in  it.  Finally,  on  the  15th  and  onwards  to  the  23d  day 


MINISTER  ROLAND. 


Chap.  IX. 
March. 


97 


of  March,  1792,  when  all  is  negotiated,  —  this  is  the  blessed 
issue ;  this  Patriot  Ministry  that  we  see. 

General  Dumouriez,  with  the  Foreign  Portfolio,  shall  ply 
Kaunitz  and  the  Kaiser,  in  another  style  than  did  poor  Deles- 
sarts ;  whom  indeed  we  have  sent  to  our  High  Court  of  Orleans 
for  his  sluggishness.  War-Minister  Narbonne  is  washed  away 
by  the  Time-flood;  poor  Chevalier  de  Grave,  chosen  by  the 
Court,  is  fast  washing  away  :  then  shall  austere  Servan,  able 
Engineer-Officer,  mount  suddenly  to  the  War  Department. 
Genevese  Claviere  sees  an  omen  realized :  passing  the  Finance 
Hotel,  long  years  ago,  as  a  poor  Genevese  exile,  it  was  borne 
wondrously  on  his  mind  that  he  was  to  be  Finance-Minister ; 
and  now  he  is  it ;  —  and  his  poor  Wife,  given  up  by  the  Doc¬ 
tors,  rises  and  walks,  not  the  victim  of  nerves  but  their 
vanquisher.1  And  above  all,  our  Minister  of  the  Interior  ? 
Roland  de  la  Platriere,  he  of  Lyons  !  So  have  the  Brissotins, 
public  or  private  Opinion,  and  Breakfasts  in  the  Place  Yen- 
dome,  decided  it.  Strict  Roland,  compared  to  a  Quaker  endi- 
manche ,  or  Sunday  Quaker,  goes  to  kiss  hands  at  the  Tuileries, 
in  round  hat  and  sleek  hair,  his  shoes  tied  with  mere  ribbon  or 
ferret.  The  Supreme  Usher  twitches  Dumouriez  aside  :  “  Quoi, 
Monsieur!  No  buckles  to  his  shoes?”  —  “Ah,  Monsieur,” 
answers  Dumouriez,  glancing  towards  the  ferret :  “  All  is  lost, 
Tout  est  perdu.” 2 

And  so  our  fair  Roland  removes  from  her  upper  floor  in  the 
Rue  Saint- Jacques,  to  the  sumptuous  saloons  once  occupied  by 
Madame  Necker.  Nay  still  earlier,  it  was  Calonne  that  did  all 
this  gilding;  it  was  he  who  ground  these  lustres,  Venetian 
mirrors ;  who  polished  this  inlaying,  this  veneering  and  or¬ 
molu  ;  and  made  it,  by  rubbing  of  the  proper  lamp,  an  Alad¬ 
din’s  Palace  :  —  and  now  behold,  he  wanders  dim-flitting  over 
Europe  ;  half-drowned  in  the  Rhine-stream,  scarcely  saving  his 
Papers  !  Vos  non  vobis.  —  The  fair  Roland,  equal  to  either 
fortune,  has  her  public  Dinner  on  Fridays,  the  Ministers  all 
there  in  a  body :  she  withdraws  to  her  desk  (the  cloth  once 
removed),,  and  seems  busy  writing ;  nevertheless  loses  no  word : 
if,  for  example,  Deputy  Brissot  and  Minister  Claviere  get  too 

1  Dumont,  c.  20, 21.  2  Madame  Roland,  ii.  80-115. 

VOL.  iv.  7 


98  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

hot  in  argument,  she,  not  without  timidity,  yet  with  a  cunning 
gracefulness,  will  interpose.  Deputy  Brissot’s  head,  they  say, 
is  getting  giddy,  in  this  sudden  height ;  as  feeble  heads  do. 

Envious  men  insinuate  that  the  Wife  Roland  is  Minister, 
and  not  the  Husband :  it  is  happily  the  worst  they  have  to 
charge  her  with.  For  the  rest,  let  whose  head  soever  be  get¬ 
ting  giddy,  it  is  not  this  brave  woman’s.  Serene  and  queenly 
here,  as  she  was  of  old  in  her  own  hired  garret  of  the  Ursulines 
Convent !  She  who  has  quietly  shelled  French  beans  for  her 
dinner ;  being  led  to  that,  as  a  young  maiden,  by  quiet  insight 
and  computation  ;  and  knowing  what  that  was,  and  what  she 
was :  such  a  one  will  also  look  quietly  on  ormolu  and  veneer¬ 
ing,  not  ignorant  of  these  either.  Calonne  did  the  veneering : 
he  gave  dinners  here,  old  Besenval  diplomatically  whispering 
to  him  ;  and  was  great :  yet  Calonne  we  saw  at  last  “  walk 
with  long  strides.”  Necker  next;  and  where  now  is  Keeker? 
Us  also  a  swift  change  has  brought  hither;  a  swift  change  will 
send  us  hence.  Not  a  Palace  but  a  Caravansera ! 

So  wags  and  wavers  this  unrestful  World,  day  after  day, 
month  after  month.  The  streets  of  Paris,  and  all  Cities,  roll 
daily  their  oscillatory  flood  of  men ;  which  flood  does  nightly 
disappear,  and  lie  hidden  horizontal  in  beds  and  truckle-beds ; 
and  awakes  on  the  morrow  to  new  perpendicularity  and  move¬ 
ment.  Men  go  their  roads,  foolish  or  wise ;  —  Engineer  Gogue- 
lat  to  and  fro,  bearing  Queen’s  cipher.  A  Madame  de  Stael 
is  busy ;  cannot  clutch  her  Narbonne  from  the  Time-flood :  a 
Princess  de  Lamballe  is  busy ;  cannot  help  her  Queen.  Bar- 
nave,  seeing  the  Feuillants  dispersed,  and  Coblentz  so  brisk, 
begs  by  way  of  final  recompense  to  kiss  her  Majesty’s  hand; 
“  augurs  not  well  of  her  new  course ;  ”  and  retires  home  to 
Grenoble,  to  wed  an  heiress  there.  The  Cafe  Valois  and 
Meot  the  Restaurateur’s  hear  daily  gasconade  ;  loud  babble  of 
Half-pay  Royalists,  with  or  without  poniards.  Remnants  of 
Aristocrat  saloons  call  the  new  Ministry  Ministere- Sansculotte. 
A  Louvet,  of  the  Romance  Faublas,  is  busy  in  the  Jacobins.  A 
Cazotte,  of  the  Romance  Diable  Amoureux,  is  busy  elsewhere : 
better  wert  thou  quiet,  old  Cazotte ;  it  is  a  world,  this,  of! 


MINISTER  ROLAND. 


99 


Chap.  IX. 

March- April. 

magic  become  real !  All  men  are  busy  ;  doing  they  only  half 
guess  what :  —  flinging  seeds,  of  tares  mostly,  into  the  “  Seed- 
field  of  Time  : ”  this,  by  and  by,  will  declare  wholly  what. 

But  Social  Explosions  have  in  them  something  dread,  and 
as  it  were  mad  and  magical  ;  which  indeed  Life  always  secretly 
has  :  thus  the  dumb  Earth  (says  Fable),  if  you  pull  her  man¬ 
drake-roots,  will  give  a  demonic  mad-making  moan.  These 
Explosions  and  Revolts  ripen,  break  forth  like  dumb  dread 
Forces  of  Nature  ;  and  yet  they  are  Men’s  forces  ;  and  yet  we 
are  part  of  them  :  the  Demonic  that  is  in  man’s  life  has  burst 
out  on  us,  will  sweep  us  too  away !  —  One  day  here  is  like 
another,  and  yet  it  is  not  like  but  different.  How  much  is 
growing,  silently  resistless,  at  all  moments  !  Thoughts  are 
growing ;  forms  of  Speech  are  growing,  and  Customs  and  even 
Costumes ;  still  more  visibly  are  actions  and  transactions  grow¬ 
ing,  and  that  doomed  Strife  of  France  with  herself  and  with 
the  whole  world. 

The  word  Liberty  is  never  named  now  except  in  conjunction 
with  another ;  Liberty  and  Equality.  In  like  manner,  what, 
in  a  reign  of  Liberty  and  Equality,  can  these  words,  “Sir,” 
“  Obedient  Servant,”  “  Flonor  to  be,”  aud  such  like,  signify  ? 
Tatters  and  fibres  of  old  Feudality ;  which,  were  it  only  in  the 
Grammatical  province,  ought  to  be  rooted  out !  The  Mother 
Society  has  long  since  had  proposals  to  that  effect :  these  she 
could  not  entertain;  not,  at  the  moment.  Note  too  how  the 
Jacobin  Brethren  are  mounting  new  Symbolical  head-gear : 
the  Woollen  Cap  or  Nightcap,  bonnet  de  laine,  better  known  as 
bonnet  rouge,  the  color  being  red.  A  thing  one  wears  not  only 
by  way  of  Phrygian  Cap-of-Liberty,  but  also  for  convenience, 
sake,  and  then  also  in  compliment  to  the  Lower-class  Patriots 
and  Bastille  Heroes  ;  for  the  Red  Nightcap  combines  all  the 
three  properties.  Nay  cockades  themselves  begin  to  be  made 
of  wool,  of  tricolor  yarn  :  the  ribbon -cockade,  as  a  symptom  of 
Feuillant  Upper-class  temper,  is  becoming  suspicious.  Signs 
of  the  times. 

Still  more,  note  the  travail-throes  of  Europe  :  or  rather,  note 
the  birth  she  brings  ;  for  the  successive  throes  and  shrieks, 
of  Austrian  and  Prussian  Alliance,  of  Kaunitz  Anti-jacobin 


100  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

Despatch,  of  French  Ambassadors  cast  out,  and  so  forth,  were 
long  to  note.  Duinouriez  corresponds  with  Kaunitz,  Metter- 
nich,  or  Cobentzel,  in  another  style  than  Delessarts  did.  Strict 
becomes  stricter ;  categorical  answer,  as  to  this  Coblentz  work 
and  much  else,  shall  be  given.  Failing  which  ?  Failing  which, 
on  the  20th  day  of  April,  1792,  King  and  Ministers  step  over 
to  the  Salle  de  Manege ;  promulgate  how  the  ma/tter  stands ; 
and  poor  Louis,  “with  tears  in  his  eyes,”  proposes  that  the 
Assembly  do  now  decree  War.  After  due  eloquence,  War  is 
decreed  that  night. 

War,  indeed !  Paris  came  all  crowding,  full  of  expectancy, 
to  the  morning,  and  still  more  to  the  evening,  session.  DJ Or¬ 
leans  with  his  two  sons  is  there ;  looks  on,  wide-eyed,  from  the 
opposite  gallery.1  Thou  canst  look,  0  Philippe :  it  is  a  War 
big  with  issues,  for  thee  and  for  all  men.  Cimmerian  Obscu¬ 
rantism  and  this  thrice-glorious  Revolution  shall  wrestle  for  it, 
then :  some  Four-and-Twenty  years ;  in  immeasurable  Briareus 
wrestle ;  trampling  and  tearing  ;  before  they  can  come  to  any, 
not  agreement,  but  compromise,  and  approximate  ascertain¬ 
ment  each  of  what  is  in  the  other. 

Let  our  Three  Generals  on  the  Frontiers  look  to  it,  there¬ 
fore  ;  and  poor  Chevalier  de  Grave,  the  War-Minister,  consider 
what  he  will  do.  What  is  in  the  three  Generals  and  Armies 
we  may  guess.  As  for  poor  Chevalier  de  Grave,  he,  in  this 
whirl  of  things  all  coming  to  a  press  and  pinch  upon  him,  loses 
head,  and  merely  whirls  with  them,  in  a  totally  distracted  man¬ 
ner  ;  signing  himself  at  last,  11  De  Grave,  Mayor  of  Paris ;  ” 
whereupon  he  demits,  returns  over  the  Channel,  to  walk  in 
Kensington  Gardens  ; 2  and  austere  Servan,  the  able  Engineer- 
Officer,  is  elevated  in  his  stead.  To  the  post  of  Honor  ?  To 
that  of  Difficulty,  at  least. 


1  Deux  Amis,  vii.  146-166. 


2  Dumont,  c.  19,  21. 


Chap.  X.  PETION-NATIONAL-PIQUE.  101 

April  9. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PETION— NATIONAL— PIQUE. 

And  yet,  how,  on  dark  bottomless  Cataracts  there  plays 
the  foolishest  fantastic-colored  spray  and  shadow;  hiding 
the  Abyss  under  vapory  rainbows  !  Alongside  of  this  discus¬ 
sion  as  to  Austrian-Prussian  War,  there  goes  on  not  less  but 
more  vehemently  a  discussion,  Whether  the  Forty  or  Two- 
and-forty  Swiss  of  Chateau-Vieux  shall  be  liberated  from  the 
Brest  Galleys  ?  And  then,  Whether,  being  liberated,  they 
shall  have  a  public  Festival,  or  only  private  ones  ? 

Theroigne,  as  we  saw,  spoke  ;  and  Collot  took  up  the  tale. 
Has  not  Bouille’s  final  display  of  himself,  in  that  final  Night 
of  Spurs,  stamped  your  so-called  “  Revolt  of  Nanei”  into  a 
“ Massacre  of  Nanci,”  for  all  Patriot  judgments?  Hateful 
is  that  massacre ;  hateful  the  Lafayette-Feuillant  “  public 
thanks ”  given  for  it!  For  indeed,  Jacobin  Patriotism  and 
dispersed  Feuillantism  are  now  at  death-grips ;  and  do  fight 
with  all  weapons,  even  with  scenic  shows.  The  walls  of 
Paris,  accordingly,  are  covered  with  Placard  and  Counter- 
Placard,  on  the  subject  of  Forty  Swiss  blockheads.  Jour¬ 
nal  responds  to  Journal ;  Player  Collot  to  Poetaster  Roucher  ; 
Joseph  Chenier  the  Jacobin,  squire  of  Theroigne,  to  his 
Brother  Andre  the  Feuillant ;  Mayor  Petion  to  Dupont  de 
Nemours :  and  for  the  space  of  two  months,  there  is  no¬ 
where  peace  for  the  thought  of  man,  —  till  this  thing  be 
settled. 

Gloria  in  excelsis !  The  Forty  Swiss  are  at  last  got  “am¬ 
nestied.”  Rejoice,  ye  Forty ;  doff  your  greasy  wool  Bonnets, 
which  shall  become  Caps  of  Liberty.  The  Brest  Daughter 
Society  welcomes  you  from  on  board,  with  kisses  on  each 
cheek :  your  iron  Handcuffs  are  disputed  as  Relics  of  Saints ; 
the  Brest  Society  indeed  can  have  one  portion,  which  it 


102  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

will  beat  into  Pikes,  a  sort  of  Sacred  Pikes ;  but  the  other 
portion  must  belong  to  Paris,  and  be  suspended  from  the 
dome  there,  along  with  the  Flags  of  the  Three  Free  Peoples ! 
Such  a  goose  is  man  ;  and  cackles  over  plush-velvet  Grand 
Monarques  and  woollen  Galley-slaves ;  over  everything  and 
over  nothing, — and  will  cackle  with  his  whole  soul,  merely 
if  others  cackle ! 

On  the  ninth  morning  of  April,  these  Forty  Swiss  block¬ 
heads  arrive.  From  Versailles;  with  vivats  heaven-higli; 
with  the  affluence  of  men  and  women.  To  the  Town-liall 
we  conduct  them ;  nay  to  the  Legislative  itself,  though  not 
without  difficulty.  They  are  harangued,  bedinnered,  begifted, 
—  the  very  Court,  not  for  conscience’  sake,  contributing  some¬ 
thing  ;  and  their  Public  Festival  shall  be  next  Sunday.  Next 
Sunday  accordingly  it  is.1  They  are  mounted  into  a  “tri¬ 
umphal  Car  resembling  a  ship ;  ”  are  carted  over  Paris,  with 
the  clang  of  cymbals  and  drums,  all  mortals  assisting  applau¬ 
sive  ;  carted  to  the  Champ-de-Mars  and  Fatherland’s  Altar  ; 
and  finally  carted,  for  Time  always  brings  deliverance, — 
into  invisibility  forevermore. 

Whereupon  dispersed  Feuillantism,  or  that  Party  which 
loves  Liberty  yet  not  more  than  Monarchy,  will  likewise  have 
its  Festival :  Festival  of  Simoneau,  unfortunate  Mayor  of 
Etampes,  who  died  for  the  Law ;  most  surely  for  the  Law, 
though  Jacobinism  disputes ;  being  trampled  down  with  his 
Red  Flag  in  the  riot  about  grains.  At  which  Festival  the 
Public  again  assists,  smapplausive :  not  we. 

On  the  whole,  Festivals  are  not  wanting;  beautiful  rain¬ 
bow-spray  when  all  is  now  rushing  treble-quick  towards  its 
Niagara  Fall.  National  Repasts  there  are ;  countenanced  by 
Mayor  Petion ;  Saint- Antoine,  and  the  Strong  Ones  of  the 
Halles  defiling  through  Jacobin  Club,  “their  felicity,”  accord¬ 
ing  to  Santerre,  “  not  perfect  otherwise  ;  ”  singing  many-voiced 
their  ga-ira,  dancing  their  rondo  patriotique.  Among  whom 
one  is  glad  to  discern  Saint-Huruge,  expressly  “in  white  hat,” 
the  Saint-Christopher  of  the  Carmagnole.  Nay  a  certain 

1  Newspapers  of  February,  March,  April,  1792;  Iambe  d’Andre  Chdnier 
sur  la  Fete  des  Suisses  ;  &c.  &e.  (in  Hist.  Pari  xiii.  xiv.). 


Chai-.  XI.  THE  HEREDITARY  REPRESENTATIVE.  103 

June. 

Tambour ,  or  National  Drummer,  having  just  been  presented 
with  a  little  daughter,  determines  to  have  the  new  French¬ 
woman  christened,  on  Fatherland’s  Altar,  then  and  there. 
Repast  once  over,  he  accordingly  has  her  christened ;  Fau- 
chet  the  Te-Deum  Bishop  acting  in  chief,  Thuriot  and  honor¬ 
able  persons  standing  gossips :  by  the  name,  Petion-National- 
Pique  ! 1  Does  this  remarkable  Citizeness,  now  past  the 
meridian  of  life,  still  walk  the  Earth  ?  Or  did  she  die  per¬ 
haps  of  teething  ?  Universal  History  is  not  indifferent. 


o- 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  HEKEDITARY  REPRESENTATIVE. 

And  yet  it  is  not  by  carmagnole-dances,  and  singing  of  ga-ira, 
that  the  work  can  be  done.  Duke  Brunswick  is  not  dancing 
carmagnoles,  but  has  his  drill-sergeants  busy. 

On  the  Frontiers,  onr  Armies,  be  it  treason  or  not,  behave 
in  the  worst  way.  Troops  badly  commanded,  shall  we  say  ? 
Or  troops  intrinsically  bad  ?  Unappointed,  undisciplined, 
mutinous ;  that,  in  a  thirty-years’  peace,  have  never  seen  fire  ? 
In  any  case,  Lafayette’s  and  Rochambean’s  little  clutch,  which 
they  made  at  Austrian  Flanders,  has  prospered  as  badly  as 
clutch  need  do :  soldiers  starting  at  their  own  shadow ;  sud¬ 
denly  shrieking,  “  On  nous  trahit ,”  and  flying  off  in  wild  panic, 
at  or  before  the  first  shot ;  —  managing  only  to  hang  some  two 
or  three  prisoners  they  had  picked  up,  and  massacre  their  own 
Commander,  poor  Theobald  Dillon,  driven  into  a  granary  by 
them  in  the  Town  of  Lille. 

And  poor  Gouvion:  he  who  sat  shiftless  in  that  Insur¬ 
rection  of  Women !  Gouvion  quitted  the  Legislative  Hall 
and  Parliamentary  duties,  in  disgust  and  despair,  when  those 
Galley-slaves  of  Chateau-Vieux  were  admitted  there.  He  said, 
“Between  the  Austrians  and  the  Jacobins  there  is  nothing 
1  Patriote-Francais  (Brissot’s  Newspaper),  in  Hist.  Pari.  xiii.  451. 


104  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

but  a  soldier’s  death  for  it ;  ” 1  and  so,  “  in  the  dark  stormy 
night,”  he  has  flung  himself  into  the  throat  of  the  Austrian 
cannon,  and  perished  in  the  skirmish  at  Maubeuge  on  the 
ninth  of  June.  Whom  Legislative  Patriotism  shall  mourn, 
with  black  mortcloths  and  melody  in  the  Champ-de-Mars : 
many  a  Patriot  shiftier,  truer  none.  Lafayette  himself  is 
looking  altogether  dubious ;  in  place  of  beating  the  Austrians, 
is  about  writing  to  denounce  the  Jacobins.  Rochambeau,  all 
disconsolate,  quits  the  service  :  there  remains  only  Liickner, 
the  babbling  old  Prussian  Grenadier. 

Without  Armies,  without  Generals !  And  the  Cimmerian 
Night  has  gathered  itself ;  Brunswick  preparing  his  procla¬ 
mation  ;  just  about  to  march !  Let  a  Patriot  Ministry  and 
Legislative  say,  what  in  these  circumstances  it  will  do  ? 
Suppress  internal  enemies,  for  one  thing,  answers  the  Patriot 
Legislative ;  and  proposes,  on  the  24th  of  May,  its  Decree 
for  the  Banishment  of  Priests.  Collect  also  some  nucleus  of 
determined  internal  friends,  adds  War-Minister  Servan;  and 
proposes,  on  the  7th  of  June,  his  Camp  of  Twenty  Thousand. 
Twenty  thousand  National  Volunteers;  five  out  of  each  Can¬ 
ton,  picked  Patriots,  for  Roland  has  charge  of  the  Interior: 
they  shall  assemble  here  in  Paris ;  and  be  for  a  defence,  cun¬ 
ningly  devised,  against  foreign  Austrians  and  domestic  Aus¬ 
trian  Committee  alike.  So  much  can  a  Patriot  Ministry  and 
Legislative  do. 

Reasonable  and  cunningly  devised  as  such  Camp  may,  to 
Servan  and  Patriotism,  appear,  it  appears  not  so  to  Feuil- 
lantism  ;  to  that  Feuillant- Aristocrat  Staff  of  the  Paris  Guard ; 
a  Staff,  one  would  say  again,  which  will  need  to  be  dissolved . 
These  men  see,  in  this  proposed  Camp  of  Servan’s,  an  offence ; 
and  even,  as  they  pretend  to  say,  an  insult.  Petitions  there 
come,  in  consequence,  from  blue  Feuillants  in  epaulettes ;  ill 
received.  Nay,  in  the  end,  there  comes  one  Petition,  called 
“of  the  Eight  Thousand  National  Guards  ;  ”  so  many  names 
are  on  it,  including  women  and  children.  Which  famed 
Petition  of  the  Eight  Thousand  is  indeed  received :  and  the 
Petitioners,  all  under  arms,  are  admitted  to  the  honors  of 

1  Toulongeon,  ii.  149. 


Chap.  XI.  THE  HEREDITARY  REPRESENTATIVE.  105 

June  10. 

the  sitting,  —  if  honors  or  even  if  sitting  there  be ;  for  the 
instant  their  bayonets  appear  at  the  one  door,  the  Assembly 
“adjourns,”  and  begins  to  flow  out  at  the  other.1 

Also,  in  these  same  days,  it  is  lamentable  to  see  how 
National  Guards,  escorting  Fete-Dieu  or  Corpus-Christi  cere¬ 
monial,  do  collar  and  smite  down  any  Patriot  that  does  not 
uncover  as  the  Hostie  passes.  They  clap  their  bayonets  to 
the  breast  of  Cattle-butcher  Legendre,  a  known  Patriot  ever 
since  the  Bastille  days;  and  threaten  to  butcher  him;  though 
he  sat  quite  respectfully,  he  says,  in  his  Gig,  at  a  distance 
of  flfty  paces,  waiting  till  the  thing  were  by.  Nay  orthodox 
females  were  shrieking  to  have  down  the  Lanterne  on  him.2 

To  such  height  has  Feuillantism  gone  in  this  Corps.  For 
indeed,  are  not  their  Officers  creatures  of  the  chief  Feuillant, 
Lafayette  ?  The  Court  too  has,  very  naturally,  been  tamper¬ 
ing  with  them ;  caressing  them,  ever  since  that  dissolution 
of  the  so-called  Constitutional  Guard.  Some  Battalions  are 
altogether  “petris,  kneaded  full”  of  Feuillantism,  mere  Aristo¬ 
crats  at  bottom  :  for  instance,  the  Battalion  of  the  Filles-Saint- 
Thomas,  made  up  of  your  Bankers,  Stockbrokers,  and  other 
Full-purses  of  the  Hue  Vivienne.  Our  worthy  old  Friend 
Weber,  Queen’s  Foster-brother  Weber,  carries  a  musket  in 
that  Battalion,  —  one  may  judge  with  what  degree  of  Patriotic 
intention. 

Heedless  of  all  which,  or  rather  heedful  of  all  which,  the 
Legislative,  backed  by  Patriot  France  and  the  feeling  of 
Necessity,  decrees  this  Camp  of  Twenty  Thousand.  Decisive 
though  conditional  Banishment  of  malign  Priests  it  has  al¬ 
ready  decreed. 

It  will  now  be  seen,  therefore,  Whether  the  Hereditary 
Representative  is  for  us  or  against  us  ?  Whether  or  not,  to 
all  our  other  woes,  this  intolerablest  one  is  to  be  added; 
which  renders  us  not  a  menaced  Nation  in  extreme  jeopardy 
and  need,  but  a  paralytic  Solecism  of  a  Nation ;  sitting 
wrapped  as  in  dead  cerements,  of  a  Constitutional  Vesture 
that  were  no  other  than  a  winding-sheet ;  our  right  hand 

1  Moniteur ,  Seance  du  10  Juin,  1792. 

2  Debats  des  Jacobins  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xiv.  429). 


106  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XI I. 

1792. 

glued  to  our  left ;  to  wait  there,  writhing  and  wriggling, 
unable  to  stir  from  the  spot,  till  in  Prussian  rope  we  mount 
to  the  gallows  ?  Let  the  Hereditary  Representative  consider 
it  well :  The  Decree  of  Priests  ?  The  Camp  of  Twenty 
Thousand  ?  —  By  Heaven,  he  answers,  Veto  !  Veto  !  —  Strict 
Roland  hands  in  his  Letter  to  the  King ;  or  rather  it  was 
Madame’s  Letter,  who  wrote  it  all  at  a  sitting ;  one  of  the 
plainest-spoken  Letters  ever  handed  in  to  any  King.  This 
plain-spoken  Letter  King  Louis  has  the  benefit  of  reading 
overnight.  He  reads,  inwardly  digests  ;  and  next  morning, 
the  whole  Patriot  Ministry  finds  itself  turned  out.  It  is  the 
13th  of  June,  1792.1 

Dumouriez  the  many-counselled,  he,  with  one  Duranthon 
called  Minister  of  Justice,  does  indeed  linger  for  a  day  or 
two ;  in  rather  suspicious  circumstances ;  speaks  with  the 
Queen,  almost  weeps  with  her  :  but  in  the  end,  he  too  sets 
off  for  the  Army;  leaving  what  Un-Patriot  or  Semi-Patriot 
Ministry  and  Ministries  can  now  accept  the  helm,  to  accept 
it.  Name  them  not ;  new  quick-changing  Phantasms,  which 
shift  like  magic-lantern  figures ;  more  spectral  than  ever ! 

Unhappy  Queen,  unhappy  Louis  !  The  two  Vetoes  were  so 
natural :  are  not  the  Priests  martyrs  ;  also  friends  ?  This 
Camp  of  Twenty  Thousand,  could  it  be  other  than  of  stormful- 
est  Sansculottes?  Natural;  and  yet,  to  France,  unendurable. 
Priests  that  co-operate  with  Coblentz  must  go  else-whither 
with  their  martyrdom:  stormful  Sansculottes,  these  and  no 
other  kind  of  creatures  will  drive  back  the  Austrians.  If 
thou  prefer  the  Austrians,  then,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  go 
join  them.  If  not,  join  frankly  with  what  will  oppose  them 
to  the  death.  Middle  course  is  none. 

Or,  alas,  what  extreme  course  was  there  left  now  for  a  man 
like  Louis  ?  Underhand  Royalists,  Ex-Minister  Bertrand- 
Moleville,  Ex-Constituent  Malouet,  and  all  manner  of  unhelp¬ 
ful  individuals,  advise  and  advise.  With  face  of  hope  turned 
now  on  the  Legislative  Assembly,  and  now  on  Austria  and 
Coblentz,  and  round  generally  on  the  Chapter  of  Chances,  an 
ancient  Kingship  is  reeling  and  spinning,  one  knows  not 
whitherward,  on  the  flood  of  things. 

1  Madame  Roland,  ii.  115. 


Chap.  XII.  PROCESSION  OF  THE  BLACK  BREECHES.  107 

June. 


CHAPTER,  XII. 

PROCESSION  OF  THE  BLACK  BREECHES. 

But  is  there  a  thinking  man  in  France  who,  in  these  cir¬ 
cumstances,  can  persuade  himself  that  the  Constitution  will 
march  ?  Brunswick  is  stirring ;  he ,  in  few  days  now,  will 
march.  Shall  France  sit  still,  wrapped  in  dead  cerements  and 
grave-clothes,  its  right  hand  glued  to  its  left,  till  the  Brunswick 
Saint-Bartholomew  arrive  ;  till  France  be  as  Poland,  and  its 
Rights  of  Man  become  a  Prussian  Gibbet  ? 

Verily  it  is  a  moment  frightful  for  all  men.  National 
Death ;  or  else  some  preternatural  convulsive  outburst  of  Na¬ 
tional  Life ;  —  that  same  demonic  outburst !  Patriots  whose 
audacity  has  limits  had,  in  truth,  better  retire  like  Barnave ; 
court  private  felicity  at  Grenoble.  Patriots  whose  audacity 
has  no  limits  must  sink  down  into  the  obscure ;  and,  daring 
and  defying  all  things,  seek  salvation  in  stratagem,  in  Plot 
of  Insurrection.  Roland  and  young  Barbaroux  have  spread 
out  the  Map  of  France  before  them,  Barbaroux  says  “with 
tears :  ”  they  consider  what  Rivers,  what  Mountain-ranges  are 
in  it :  they  will  retire  behind  this  Loire-stream,  defend  these 
Auvergne  stone-labyrinths ;  save  some  little  sacred  Territory 
of  the  Free ;  die  at  least  in  their  last  ditch.  Lafayette  indites 
his  emphatic  Letter  to  the  Legislative  against  Jacobinism;1 
which  emphatic  Letter  will  not  heal  the  unhealable. 

Forward,  ye  Patriots  whose  audacity  has  no  limits ;  it  is 
you  now  that  must  either  do  or  die !  The  Sections  of  Paris 
sit  in  deep  counsel ;  send  out  Deputation  after  Deputation  to 
the  Salle  de  Manege,  to  petition  and  denounce.  Great  is  their 
ire  against  tyrannous  Veto,  Austrian  Committee,  and  the  com¬ 
bined  Cimmerian  Kings.  What  boots  it  ?  Legislative  listens 
to  the  “  tocsin  in  our  hearts  ;  ”  grants  us  honors  of  the  sitting, 

1  Aloniteur,  Seance  du  18  Juin,  1792. 


108  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

sees  us  defile  with,  jingle  and  fanfaronade  ;  but  the  Camp  of 
Twenty  Thousand,  the  Priest-Decree,  be-vetoed  by  Majesty,  are 
become  impossible  for  Legislative.  Fiery  Isnard  says,  “We 
will  have  Equality,  should  we  descend  for  it  to  the  tomb.” 
Yergniaud  utters,  hypothetically,  his  stern  Ezekiel-visions  of 
the  fate  of  Anti-national  Kings.  But  the  question  is  :  Will 
hypothetic  prophecies,  will  jingle  and  fanfaronade  demolish 
the  Veto ;  or  will  the  Veto,  secure  in  its  Tuileries  Chateau, 
remain  undemolishable  by  these  ?  Barbaroux,  dashing  away 
his  tears,  writes  to  the  Marseilles  Municipality,  that  they 
must  send  him  “  Six  hundred  men  who  know  how  to  die,  qui 
savent  rnourir .” 1  No  wet-eyed  message  this,  but  a  fire-eyed 
one ;  —  which  will  be  obeyed  ! 

Meanwhile  the  Twentieth  of  June  is  nigh,  anniversary  of 
that  world-famous  Oath  of  the  Tennis-Court:  on  which  day, 
it  is  said,  certain  citizens  have  in  view  to  plant  a  Mai  or  Tree 
of  Liberty  in  the  Tuileries  Terrace  of  the  Feuillants  ;  perhaps 
also  to  petition  the  Legislative  and  Heredtary  Representative 
about  these  Vetoes;  —  with  such  demonstration,  jingle  and 
evolution,  as  may  seem  profitable  and  practicable.  Sections 
have  gone  singly,  and  jingled  and  evolved  :  but  if  they  all 
went,  or  great  part  of  them,  and  there,  planting  their  Mai 
in  these  alarming  circumstances,  sounded  the  tocsin  in  their 
hearts  ? 

Among  King’s  Friends  there  can  be  but  one  opinion  as  to 
such  a  step :  among  Nation’s  Friends  there  may  be  two.  On 
the  one  hand,  might  it  not  by  possibility  scare  away  these  un¬ 
blessed  Vetoes  ?  Private  Patriots  and  even  Legislative  Depu¬ 
ties  may  have  each  his  own  opinion,  or  own  no-opinion :  but 
the  hardest  task  falls  evidently  on  Mayor  Petion  and  the 
Municipals,  at  once  Patriots  and  Guardians  of  the  public 
Tranquillity.  Hushing  the  matter  down  with  the  one  hand ; 
tickling  it  up  with  the  other !  Mayor  Petion  and  Munici¬ 
pality  may  lean  this  way ;  Department-Directory  with  Procu- 
reur-Syndic  Rcederer,  having  a  Feuillant  tendency,  may  lean 
that.  On  the  whole,  each  man  must  act  according  to  his  one 

1  Barbaroux,  p.  40. 


Chap.  XII.  PROCESSION  OF  THE  BLACK  BREECHES.  109 

June  20. 

opinion  or  to  his  two  opinions  ;  and  all  manner  of  influences, 
official  representations  cross  one  another  in  the  foolishest  way. 
Perhaps  after  all,  the  Project,  desirable  and  yet  not  desirable, 
will  dissipate  itself,  being  run  athwart  by  so  many  complexi¬ 
ties  ;  and  come  to  nothing  ? 

Not  so  ;  on  the  Twentieth  morning  of  June,  a  large  Tree  of 
Liberty,  Lombardy  Poplar  by  kind,  lies  visibly  tied  on  its 
car,  in  the  Suburb  Saint-Antoine.  Suburb  Saint-Marceau  too, 
in  the  uttermost  Southeast,  and  all  that  remote  Oriental  region, 
Pikemen  and  Pikewomen,  National  Guards,  and  the  unarmed 
curious  are  gathering,  —  with  the  peaceablest  intentions  in  the 
world.  A  tricolor  Municipal  arrives  ;  speaks.  Tush,  it  is  all 
peaceable,  we  tell  thee,  in  the  way  of  Law:  are  not  Petitions 
allowable,  and  the  Patriotism  of  Mais?  The  tricolor  Muni¬ 
cipal  returns  without  effect:  your  Sansculottic  rills  continue 
flowing,  combining  into  brooks  :  towards  noontide,  led  by  tall 
Santerre  in  blue  uniform,  by  tall  Saint-Huruge  in  white  hat, 
it  moves  westward,  a  respectable  river,  or  complication  of 
still-swelling  rivers. 

What  Processions  have  we  not  seen:  Corpus- Chvisti  and 
Legendre  waiting  in  his  Gig ;  Bones  of  Voltaire  with  bul¬ 
lock-chariots,  and  goadsmen  in  Roman  Costume  ;  Feasts  of 
Chateau-Vieux  and  Simoneau;  Gouvion  Funerals,  Rousseau 
Sham-funeral,  and  the  Baptism  of  Petion-National-Pike ! 
Nevertheless  this  Procession  has  a  character  of  its  own. 
Tricolor  ribbons  streaming  aloft  from  Pike-heads  ;  iron-shod 
batons ;  and  emblems  not  a  few ;  among  which  see  specially 
these  two,  of  the  tragic  and  the  untragic  sort :  a  Bull’s  Heart 
transfixed  with  iron,  bearing  this  epigraph,  “  Coeur  d’Aristo- 
crate ,  Aristocrat’s  heart ;  ”  and,  more  striking  still,  properly 
the  standard  of  the  host,  a  pair  of  old  Black  Breeches  (silk, 
they  say),  extended  on  cross-staff,  high  overhead,  with  these 
memorable  words  :  “  Tremblez,  tyrans ;  voila  les  Sansculottes, 
Tremble,  tyrants  ;  here  are  the  Sans-indispensables  !  ”  Also, 
the  Procession  trails  two  cannons. 

Scarfed  tricolor  Municipals  do  now  again  meet  it,  in  the 
Quai  Saint-Bernard,  and  plead  earnestly,  having  called  halt. 
Peaceable,  ye  virtuous  tricolor  Municipals,  peaceable  are  we 


110  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

3792. 

as  the  sucking  dove.  Behold  our  Tennis-Court  Mai.  Petition 
is  legal ;  and  as  for  arms,  did  not  an  august  Legislative  re¬ 
ceive  the  so-called  Eight  Thousand  in  arms,  Feuillants  though 
they  were  ?  Our  Pikes,  are  they  not  of  National  iron  ?  Law 
is  our  father  and  mother,  whom  we  will  not  dishonor ;  but 
Patriotism  is  our  own  soul.  Peaceable,  ye  virtuous  Muni¬ 
cipals  ;  —  and  on  the '  whole,  limited  as  to  time !  Stop  we 
cannot ;  march  ye  with  us.  —  The  Black  Breeches  agitate 
themselves,  impatient ;  the  cannon-wheels  grumble :  the  many¬ 
footed  Host  tramps  on. 

How  it  reached  the  Salle  de  Manege,  like  an  ever-waxing 
river ;  got  admittance  after  debate ;  read  its  Address ;  and 
defiled,  dancing  and  ga-ira- ing,  led  by  tall  sonorous  Santerre 
and  tall  sonorous  Saint-Huruge  :  how  it  flowed,  not  now  a 
waxing  river  but  a  shut  Caspian  lake,  round  all  Precincts 
of  the  Tuileries ;  the  front  Patriot  squeezed  by  the  rearward 
against  barred  iron  Grates,  like  to  have  the  life  squeezed  out 
of  him,  and  looking  too  into  the  dread  throat  of  cannon,  for 
National  Battalions  stand  ranked  within :  how  tricolor  Muni¬ 
cipals  ran  assiduous,  and  Royalists  with  Tickets  of  Entry; 
and  both  Majesties  sat  in  the  interior  surrounded  by  men  in 
black :  all  this  the  human  mind  shall  fancy  for  itself,  or  read 
in  old  Newspapers,  and  Syndic  Roederer’s  Chronicle  of  Fifty 
Days } 

Our  Mai  is  planted ;  if  not  in  the  Feuillants  Terrace, 
whither  is  no  ingate,  then  in  the  Garden  of  the  Capuchins, 
as  near  as  we  could  get.  National  Assembly  has  adjourned 
till  the  Evening  Session :  perhaps  this  shut  lake,  finding  no 
ingate,  will  retire  to  its  sources  again ;  and  disappear  in 
peace  ?  Alas,  not  yet :  rearward  still  presses  on ;  rearward 
knows  little  what  pressure  is  in  the  front.  One  would  wish, 
at  all  events,  were  it  possible,  to  have  a  word  with  his  Maj¬ 
esty  first ! 

The  shadows  fall  longer,  eastward ;  it  is  four  o’clock :  will 
his  Majesty  not  come  out  ?  Hardly  he  !  In  that  case,  Com¬ 
mandant  Santerre,  Cattle-butcher  Legendre,  Patriot  Huguenin 
with  the  tocsin  in  his  heart ;  they,  and  others  of  authority, 
1  Roederer,  &c.  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xv.  98-194). 


Chap.  XII.  PROCESSION  OF  THE  BLACK  BREECHES.  Ill 
June  20. 

will  enter  in.  Petition  and  request  to  wearied  uncertain 
National  Guard ;  louder  and  louder  petition ;  backed  by  the 
rattle  of  our  two  cannons !  The  reluctant  Grate  opens  :  end¬ 
less  Sansculottic  multitudes  flood  the  stairs;  knock  at  the 
wooden  guardian  of  your  privacy.  Knocks,  in  such  case, 
grow  strokes,  grow  smashings :  the  wooden  guardian  flies 
in  shivers.  'And  now  ensues  a  Scene  over  which  the  world 
has  long  wailed ;  and  not  unjustly ;  for  a  sorrier  spectacle, 
of  Incongruity  fronting  Incongruity,  and  as  it  were  recog¬ 
nizing  themselves  incongruous,  and  staring  stupidly  in  each 
other’s  face,  the  world  seldom  saw. 

King  Louis,  his  door  being  beaten  on,  opens  it ;  stands 
with  free  bosom  ;  asking,  “  What  do  you  want  ?  ”  The  Sans¬ 
culottic  flood  recoils  awe-struck ;  returns  however,  the  rear 
pressing  on  the  front,  with  cries  of  “Veto !  Patriot  Ministers  ! 
Remove  Veto !  ”  —  which  things,  Louis  valiantly  answers,  this 
is  not  the  time  to  do,  nor  this  the  way  to  ask  him  to  do. 
Honor  what  virtue  is  in  a  man.  Louis  does  not  want  courage ; 
he  has  even  the  higher  kiod  called  moral  courage  ;  though 
only  the  passive  half  of  that.  His  few  National  Grenadiers 
shuffle  back  with  him,  into  the  embrasure  of  a  window :  there 
he  stands,  with  unimpeachable  passivity,  amid  the  shouldering 
and  the  braying ;  a  spectacle  to  men.  They  hand  him  a  red 
Cap  of  Liberty;  he  sets  it  quietly  on  his  head,  forgets  it 
there.  He  complains  of  thirst ;  half-drunk  Rascality  offers 
him  a  bottle,  he  drinks  of  it.  “  Sire,  do  not  fear,”  says  one 
of  his  Grenadiers.  “Fear?”  answers  Louis:  “feel  then,” 
putting-  the  man’s  hand  on  his  heart.  So  stands  Majesty  in 
Red  woollen  Cap ;  black  Sansculottism  weltering  round  him, 
far  and  wide,  aimless,  with  inarticulate  dissonance,  with  cries 
of  “  Veto !  Patriot  Ministers  !  ” 

For  the  space  of  three  hours  or  more !  The  National 
Assembly  is  adjourned ;  tricolor  Municipals  avail  almost  noth¬ 
ing:  Mayor  Petion  tarries  absent;  Authority  is  none.  The 
Queen  with  her  Children  and  Sister  Elizabeth,  in  tears  and 
terror  not  for  themselves  only,  are  sitting  behind  barricaded 
tables  and  Grenadiers,  in  an  inner  room.  The  Men  in  black 
have  all  wisely  disappeared.  Blind  lake  of  Sansculottism 


112  PARLIAMENT  FIRST.  Book  XII. 

1792. 

welters  stagnant  through  the  King’s  Chateau,  for  the  space 
of  three  hours. 

Nevertheless  all  things  do  end.  Vergniaud  arrives  with 
Legislative  Deputation,  the  Evening  Session  having  now 
opened.  Mayor  Petion  has  arrived ;  is  haranguing,  “  lifted 
on  the  shoulders  of  two  Grenadiers.”  In  this  uneasy  attitude 
and  in  others,  at  various  places  without  and  within,  Mayor 
Petion  harangues ;  many  men  harangue ;  finally  Commandant 
Santerre  defiles ;  passes  out,  with  his  Sansculottism,  by  the 
opposite  side  of  the  Chateau.  Passing  through  the  room 
where  the  Queen,  with  an  air  of  dignity  and  sorrowful  resig¬ 
nation,  sat  among  the  tables  and  Grenadiers,  a  woman  offers 
her  too  a  Red  Cap ;  she  holds  it  in  her  hand,  even  puts  it  on 
the  little  Prince  Royal.  “  Madame,”  said  Santerre,  u  this 
People  loves  you  more  than  you  think.” 1  —  About  eight 
o’olock  the  Royal  Family  fall  into  each  other’s  arms  amid 
“  torrents  of  tears.”  Unhappy  Family  !  Who  would  not  weep 
for  it,  were  there  not  a  whole  world  to  be  wept  for  ? 

Thus  has  the  Age  of  Chivalry  gone,  and  that  of  Hunger 
come.  Thus  does  all-needing  Sansculottism  look  in  the  face 
of  its  Roi,  Regulator,  King  or  Able-man ;  and  find  that  he  has 
nothing  to  give  it.  Thus  do  the  two  Parties,  brought  face  to 
face  after  long  centuries,  stare  stupidly  at  one  another,  This , 
verily,  am  I j  but,  good  Heaven,  is  that  Thou  ?  —  and  depart, 
not  knowing  what  to  make  of  it.  And  yet,  Incongruities  hav¬ 
ing  recognized  themselves  to  be  incongruous,  something  must 
be  made  of  it.  The  Fates  know  what. 

This  is  the  world-famous  Twentieth  of  June,  more  worthy 
to  be  called  the  Procession  of  the  Black  Breeches .  With  which, 
what  we  had  to  say  of  this  First  French  biennial  Parliament, 
and  its  products  and  activities,  may  perhaps  fitly  enough 
terminate. 

1  Toulongeon,  ii.  173.  Campan,  ii.  c.  20. 


SANTERRE. 


BOOK  XIII. 


THE  MARSEILLESE. 

- » - 

CHAPTER  L 

EXECUTIVE  THAT  DOES  NOT  ACT. 

How  could  your  paralytic  National  Executive  be  put  “in 
action,”  in  any  measure,  by  such  a  Twentieth  of  June  as  this  ? 
Quite  contrariwise  :  a  large  sympathy  for  Majesty  so  insulted 
arises  everywhere ;  expresses  itself  in  Addresses,  Petitions, 
“  Petition  of  the  Twenty  Thousand  inhabitants  of  Paris,”  and 
such  like,  among  all  Constitutional  persons ;  a  decided  rallying 
round  the  throne. 

Of  which  rallying  it  was  thought  King  Louis  might  have 
made  something.  However,  he  does  make  nothing  of  it,  or 
attempt  to  make ;  for  indeed  his  views  are  lifted  beyond 
domestic  sympathy  and  rallying,  over  to  Coblentz  mainly. 
Neither  in  itself  is  this  same  sympathy  worth  much.  It  is 
sympathy  of  men  who  believe  still  that  the  Constitution  can 
march.  Wherefore  the  old  discord  and  ferment,  of  Feuillant 
sympathy  for  Royalty,  and  J acobin  sympathy  for  Fatherland, 
acting  against  each  other  from  within ;  with  terror  of  Coblentz 
and  Brunswick  acting  from  without :  —  this  discord  and  fer¬ 
ment  must  hold  on  its  course,  till  a  catastrophe  do  ripen  and 
come.  One  would  think,  especially  as  Brunswick  is  near 
marching,  such  catastrophe  cannot  now  be  distant.  Busy,  ye 
Twenty-five  French  Millions ;  ye  foreign  Potentates,  minatory 
Emigrants,  German  drill-sergeants;  each  do  what  his  hand 
findeth !  Thou,  O  Reader,  at  such  safe  distance,  wilt  see  what 
they  make  of  it  among  them. 

VOL.  IV. 


8 


114  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII 

1792. 

Consider,  therefore,  this  pitiable  Twentieth  of  June  as  a 
futility ;  no  catastrophe,  rather  a  catastasis,  or  heightening. 
Do  not  its  Black  Breeches  wave  there,  in  the  Historical  Im¬ 
agination,  like  a  melancholy  flag  of  distress  ;  soliciting  help, 
which  no  mortal  can  give  ?  Soliciting  pity,  which  thou  wert 
hard-hearted  not  to  give  freely,  to  one  and  all !  Other  such 
flags,  or  what  are  called  Occurrences,  and  black  or  bright  sym¬ 
bolic  Phenomena  will  flit  through  the  Historical  Imagination ; 
these,  one  after  one,  let  us  note,  with  extreme  brevity. 

The  first  phenomenon  is  that  of  Lafayette  at  the  Bar  of  the 
Assembly ;  after  a  week  and  day.  Promptly,  on  hearing  of 
this  scandalous  Twentieth  of  June,  Lafayette  has  quitted  his 
Command  on  the  North  Frontier,  in  better  or  worse  order ; 
and  got  hither,  on  the  28th,  to  repress  the  J acobins  :  not  by 
letter  now ;  but  by  oral  Petition,  and  weight  of  character,  face 
to  face.  The  august  Assembly  finds  the  step  questionable  ; 
invites  him  meanwhile  to  the  honors  of  the  sitting.1  Other 
honor,  or  advantage,  there  unhappily  came  almost  none ;  the 
Galleries  all  growling ;  fiery  Isnard  glooming ;  sharp  Guadet 
not  wanting  in  sarcasms. 

And  out  of  doors,  when  the  sitting  is  over,  Sieur  Besson, 
keeper  of  the  Patriot  Cafe  in  these  regions,  hears  in  the  street 
a  hurly-burly  ;  steps  forth  to  look,  he  and  his  Patriot  custom¬ 
ers  :  it  is  Lafayette’s  carriage,  with  a  tumultuous  escort  of 
blue  Grenadiers,  Cannoneers,  even  Officers  of  the  Line,  hur¬ 
rahing  and  capering  round  it.  They  make  a  pause  opposite 
Sieur  Besson’s  door ;  wag  their  plumes  at  him ;  nay  shake 
their  fists,  bellowing  A  has  les  Jacobins  !  but  happily  pass  on 
without  onslaught.  They  pass  on,  to  plant  a  Mai  before  the 
General’s  door,  and  bully  considerably.  All  which  the  Sieur 
Besson  cannot  but  report  with  sorrow,  that  night,  in  the 
Mother  Society.2  But  what  no  Sieur  Besson  nor  Mother  So¬ 
ciety  can  do  more  than  guess  is  this,  That  a  council  of  rank 
Feuillants,  your  unabolished  Staff  of  the  Guard  and  who  else 
has  status  and  weight,  is  in  these  very  moments  privily  de^ 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  28  Juin,  1792. 

2  Dtfbats  des  Jacobins  (Hist.  Pari.  xv.  235). 


Chap.  I.  EXECUTIVE  THAT  DOES  NOT  ACT.  115 

July  6. 

liberating  at  the  General’s  :  Can  we  not  put  down  the  Jacobins 
by  force  ?  Next  day,  a  Review  shall  be  held,  in  the  Tuileries 
Gardens,  of  such  as  will  turn  out,  and  try.  Alas,  says  Tou- 
longeon,  hardly  a  hundred  turned  out.  Put  it  off  till  to¬ 
morrow,  then,  to  give  better  warning.  On  the  morrow,  which 
is  Saturday,  there  turn  out  “  some  thirty ;  ”  and  depart  shrug¬ 
ging  their  shoulders ! 1  Lafayette  promptly  takes  carriage 
again;  returns  musing  on  many  things. 

The  dust  of  Paris  is  hardly  off  his  wheels,  the  summer  Sun¬ 
day  is  still  young,  when  Cordeliers  in  deputation  pluck  up  that 
Mai  of  his :  before  sunset,  Patriots  have  burnt  him  in  effigy. 
Louder  doubt  and  louder  rises,  in  Section,  in  National  Assem¬ 
bly,  as  to  the  legality  of  such  unbidden  Anti-jacobin  visit  on 
the  part  of  a  General :  doubt  swelling  and  spreading  all  over 
France,  for  six  weeks  or  so  ;  with  endless  talk  about  usurping 
soldiers,  about  English  Monk,  nay  about  Cromwell :  0  thou 
poor  Gm^ison-Cromwell !  —  What  boots  it  ?  King  Louis 
himself  looked  coldly  on  the  enterprise  :  colossal  Hero  of  two 
Worlds,  having  weighed  himself  in  the  balance,  finds  that  he 
is  become  a  gossamer  Colossus,  only  some  thirty  turning  out. 

In  a  like  sense,  and  with  a  like  issue,  works  our  Department- 
Directory  here  at  Paris  ;  who,  on  the  6th  of  July,  take  upon 
them  to  suspend  Mayor  Petion  and  Procureur  Manuel  from 
all  civic  functions,  for  their  conduct,  replete,  as  is  alleged, 
with  omissions  and  commissions,  on  that  delicate  Twentieth 
of  June.  Virtuous  Petion  sees  himself  a  kind  of  martyr,  or 
pseudo-martyr,  threatened  with  several  things ;  drawls  out 
due  heroical  lamentation ;  to  which  Patriot  Paris  and  Patriot 
Legislative  duly  respond.  King  Louis  and  Mayor  Petion  have 
already  had  an  interview  on  that  business  of  the  Twentieth ; 
an  interview  and  dialogue,  distinguished  by  frankness  on  both 
sides ;  ending  on  King  Louis’s  side  with  the  words,  u  Taisez- 
vous ,  Hold  your  peace.” 

For  the  rest,  this  of  suspending  our  Mayor  does  seem  a  mis¬ 
timed  measure.  By  ill  chance,  it  came  out  precisely  on  the 
day  of  that  famous  Baiser  de  Lamourette ,  or  miraculous  recon- 

1  Toulongeon,  ii.  180.  See  also  Dampmartin,  ii.  161. 


116  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

ciliatory  Delilah-Kiss,  which  we  spoke  of  long  ago.  Which 
Delilah-Iviss  was  thereby  quite  hindered  of  effect.  For  now 
his  Majesty  has  to  write,  almost  that  same  night,  asking  a 
reconciled  Assembly  for  advice  !  The  reconciled  Assembly 
will  not  advise  ;  will  not  interfere.  The  King  confirms  the 
suspension  ;  then  perhaps,  but  not  till  then  will  the  Assembly 
interfere,  the  noise  of  Patriot  Paris  getting  loud.  Whereby 
your  Delilah-Kiss,  such  was  the  destiny  of  Parliament  First, 
becomes  a  Philistine  Battle  ! 

Nay  there  goes  a  word  that  as  many  as  Thirty  of  our  chief 
Patriot  Senators  are  to  be  clapped  in  prison,  by  mittimus  and 
indictment  of  Feuillant  J ustices,  Juges  de  Paix  ;  who  here  in 
Paris  were  well  capable  of  such  a  thing.  It  was  but  in  May 
last  that  Juge-de-Paix  Lariviere,  on  complaint  of  Bertrand- 
Moleville  touching  that  Austrian  Committee ,  made  bold  to 
launch  his  mittimus  against  three  heads  of  the  Mountain, 
Deputies  Bazire,  Chabot,  Merlin,  the  Cordelier  Trio ;  sum¬ 
moning  them  to  appear  before  him,  and  show  where  that 
Austrian  Committee  was,  or  else  suffer  the  consequences. 
Which  mittimus  the  Trio,  on  their  side,  made  bold  to  fling 
in  the  fire :  and  valiantly  pleaded  privilege  of  Parliament. 
So  that,  for  his  zeal  without  knowledge,  poor  Justice  Lari¬ 
viere  now  sits  in  the  prison  of  Orleans,  waiting  trial  from  the 
Haute  Cour  there.  Whose  example,  may  it  not  deter  other 
rash  Justices  ;  and  so  this  word  of  the  Thirty  arrestments 
continue  a  word  merely  ? 

But  on  the  whole,  though  Lafayette  weighed  so  light,  and 
has  had  his  Mai  plucked  up,  Official  Feuillantism  falters  not  a 
whit ;  but  carries  its  head  high,  strong  in  the  letter  of  the 
Law.  Feuillants  all  of  these  men  ;  a  Feuillant  Directory ; 
founding  on  high  character,  and  such  like;  with  Duke  de  la 
Rochefoucauld  for  President,  —  a  thing  which  may  prove  dan¬ 
gerous  for  him  !  Dim  now  is  the  once  bright  Anglomania  of 
these  admired  Noblemen.  Duke  de  Liancourt  offers,  out 
of  Normandy  where  he  is  Lord-Lieutenant,  not  only  to  receive 
his  Majesty,  thinking  of  flight  thither,  but  to  lend  him  money 
to  enormous  amounts.  Sire,  it  is  not  a  Revolt,  it  is  a  Revolu¬ 
tion  ;  and  truly  no  rose-water  one  !  Worthier  Noblemen  were 


Chap.  I.  EXECUTIVE  THAT  DOES  NOT  ACT.  117 

July  10. 

not  in  France  nor  in  Europe  than  those  two  :  but  the  Time  is 
crooked,  quick-shifting,  perverse ;  what  straightest  course  will 
lead  to  any  goal,  in  it  ? 

Another  phasis  which  we  note,  in  these  early  July  days,  is 
that  of  certain  thin  streaks  of  Federate  National  Volunteers 
wending  from  various  points  towards  Paris,  to  hold  a  new 
Federation-Festival,  or  Feast  of  Pikes,  on  the  Fourteenth  there. 
So  has  the  National  Assembly  wished  it,  so  has  the  Nation 
willed  it.  In  this  way,  perhaps,  may  we  still  have  our  Patriot 
Camp  in  spite  of  Veto.  For  cannot  these  Federes,  having  cele¬ 
brated  their  Feast  of  Pikes,  march  on  to  Soissons  ;  and,  there 
being  drilled  and  regimented,  rush  to  the  Frontiers,  or  whither 
we  like  ?  Thus  were  the  one  Veto  cunningly  eluded ! 

As  indeed  the  other  Veto,  about  Priests,  is  also  like  to  be 
eluded;  and  without  much  cunning.  For  Provincial  Assem¬ 
blies,  in  Calvados  as  one  instance,  are  proceeding,  on  their  own 
strength,  to  judge  and  banish  Anti-national  Priests.  Or  still 
worse,  without  Provincial  Assembly,  a  desperate  People,  as  at 
Bordeaux,  can  “hang  two  of  them  on  the  Lanterne,”  on  the 
way  towards  judgment.1  Pity  for  the  spoken  Veto ,  when  it 
cannot  become  an  acted  one ! 

It  is  true,  some  ghost  of  a  War-minister,  or  Home-minister, 
for  the  time  being,  ghost  whom  we  do  not  name,  does  write  to 
Municipalities  and  King’s  Commanders,  that  they  shall,  by  all 
conceivable  methods,  obstruct  this  Federation,  and  even  turn 
back  the  Federes  by  force  of  arms  :  a  message  which  scatters 
mere  doubt,  paralysis  and  confusion ;  irritates  the  poor  Legis¬ 
lature  ;  reduces  the  Federes,  as  we  see,  to  thin  streaks.  But 
being  questioned,  this  ghost  and  the  other  ghosts,  What  it  is 
then  that  they  propose  to  do  for  saving  the  country  ?  —  they 
answer,  That  they  cannot  tell ;  that  indeed  they,  for  their 
part,  have,  this  morning,  resigned  in  a  body ;  and  do  now  merely 
respectfully  take  leave  of  the  helm  altogether.  With  which 
words  they  rapidly  walk  out  of  the  Hall,  sortent  brusquement  de 
la  salle,  the  “  Galleries  cheering  loudly,”  the  poor  Legislature 
sitting  “  for  a  good  while  in  silence  ” ! 2  Thus  do  Cabinet- 
1  Hist.  Pari.  xvi.  259.  2  Moniteur,  Seance  du  Juillet,  1792. 


118  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

ministers  themselves,  in  extreme  cases,  strike  work;  one  of 
the  strangest  omens.  Other  complete  Cabinet-ministry  there 
will  not  be  ;  only  fragments,  and  these  changeful,  which  never 
get  completed ;  spectral  Apparitions  that  cannot  so  much  as 
appear  !  King  Louis  writes  that  he  now  views  this  Federation 
Feast  with  approval;  and  will  himself  have  the  pleasure  to 
take  part  in  the  same. 

And  so  these  thin  streaks  of  Federes  wend  Paris-ward 
through  a  paralytic  France.  Thin  grim  streaks  ;  not  thick 
joyful  ranks,  as  of  old  to  the  first  Feast  of  Pikes  !  No  •  these 
poor  Federates  march  now  towards  Austria  and  Austrian  Com¬ 
mittee,  towards  jeopardy  and  forlorn  hope ;  men  of  hard  for¬ 
tune  and  temper,  not  rich  in  the  world’s  goods.  Municipalities, 
paralyzed  by  War-minister,  are  shy  of  affording  cash;  it  may 
be,  your  poor  Federates  cannot  arm  themselves,  cannot  march, 
till  the  Daughter  Society  of  the  place  open  her  pocket  and 
subscribe.  There  will  not  have  arrived,  at  the  set  day,  Three 
Thousand  of  them  in  all.  And  yet,  thin  and  feeble  as  these 
streaks  of  Federates  seem,  they  are  the  only  thing  one  discerns 
moving  with  any  clearness  of  aim  in  this  strange  scene.  Angry 
buzz  and  simmer;  uneasy  tossing  and  moaning  of  a  huge 
France,  all  enchanted,  spell-bound  by  unmarching  Constitution, 
into  frightful  conscious  and  unconscious  Magnetic-sleep ;  which 
frightful  Magnetic-sleep  must  now  issue  soon  in  one  of  two 
things  :  Death  or  Madness  !  The  Federes  carry  mostly  in  their 
pocket  some  earnest  cry  and  Petition,  to  have  the  “National 
Executive  put  in  action ;  ”  or  as  a  step  towards  that,  to  have 
the  King’s  Decheance ,  King’s  Forfeiture,  or  at  least  his  Sus¬ 
pension,  pronounced.  They  shall  be  welcome  to  the  Legisla¬ 
tive,  to  the  Mother  of  Patriotism ;  and  Paris  will  provide  for 
their  lodging.  • 

Decheance ,  indeed :  and  what  next  ?  A  France  spell-free, 
a  Bevolution  saved ;  and  anything,  and  all  things  next !  so 
answer  grimly  Danton  and  the  unlimited  Patriots,  down  deep 
in  their  subterranean  region  of  Plot,  whither  they  have  now 
dived.  Decheance ,  answers  Brissot  with  the  limited :  and  if 
next  the  little  Prince  Koyal  were  crowned,  and  some  Begency 
of  Girondins  and  recalled  Patriot  Ministry  set  over  him  ? 


CHAP.  I.  EXECUTIVE  THAT  DOES  NOT  ACT.  119 

July  10. 

Alas,  poor  Brissot ;  looking,  as  indeed  poor  man  does  always, 
on  the  nearest  morrow  as  his  peaceable  promised  land  ;  decid¬ 
ing  what  must  reach  to  the  world’s  end,  yet  with  an  insight 
that  reaches  not  beyond  his  own  nose  !  Wiser  are  the  un¬ 
limited  subterranean  Patriots,  who  with  light  for  the  hour 
itself,  leave  the  rest  to  the  gods. 

Or  were  it  not,  as  we  now  stand,  the  probablest  issue  of  all, 
that  Brunswick,-  in  Coblentz,  just  gathering  his  huge  limbs 
towards  him  to  rise,  might  arrive  first ;  and  stop  both  Deche- 
ance ,  and  theorizing  on  it  ?  Brunswick  is  on  the  eve  of  march¬ 
ing  ;  with  eighty  thousand,  they  say ;  fell  Prussians,  Hessians, 
feller  Emigrants :  a  General  of  the  Great  Frederick,  with  such 
an  Army.  And  our  Armies  ?  And  our  Generals  ?  As  for 
Lafayette,  on  whose  late  visit  a  Committee  is  sitting  and  all 
France  is  jarring  and  censuring,  he  seems  readier  to  fight  us 
than  fight  Brunswick.  Liickner  and  Lafayette  pretend  to  be 
interchanging  corps,  and  are  making  movements,  which  Pa¬ 
triotism  cannot  understand.  This  only  is  very  clear,  that 
their  corps  go  marching  and  shuttling,  in  the  interior  of  the 
country ;  much  nearer  Paris  than  formerly !  Liickner  has 
ordered  Dumouriez  down  to  him  ;  down  from  Maulde,  and  the 
Fortified  Camp  there.  Which  order  the  many-counselled  Du¬ 
mouriez,  with  the  Austrians  hanging  close  on  him,  he  busy 
meanwhile  training  a  few  thousands  to  stand  fire  and  be 
soldiers,  declares  that,  come  of  it  what  will,  he  cannot  obey.1 
Will  a  poor  Legislative,  therefore,  sanction  Dumouriez ;  who 
applies  to  it,  “not  knowing  whether  there  is  any  War-min¬ 
istry”  ?  Or  sanction  Liickner  and  these  Lafayette  move¬ 
ments  ? 

The  poor  Legislative  knows  not  what  to  do.  It  decrees, 
however,  that  the  Staff  of  the  Paris  Guard,  and  indeed  all  such 
Staffs,  for  they  are  Feuillants  mostly,  shall  be  broken  and  re¬ 
placed.  It  decrees  earnestly,  in  what  manner  one  can  declare, 
that  the  Country  is  in  Danger.  And  finally,  on  the  11th  of 
July,  the  morrow  of  that  day  when  the  Ministry  struck  work, 
it  decrees  that  the  Country  be,  with  all  despatch,  declared  in 
Danger.  Whereupon  let  the  King  sanction ;  let  the  Munici- 

1  Dumouriez,  ii.  1,  5. 


120 


THE  MAKSEILLESE. 


Book  XIII. 
1792. 

pality  take  measures :  if  such  Declaration  will  do  service,  it 
need  not  fail. 

In  Danger  truly,  if  ever  Country  was  !  Arise,  O  Country ; 
or  be  trodden  down  to  ignominious  ruin !  Nay,  are  not  the 
chances  a  hundred  to  one  that  no  rising  of  the  Country  will 
save  it ;  Brunswick,  the  Emigrants,  and  Feudal  Europe  draw¬ 
ing  nigh  ? 


CHAPTER  II. 


LET  US  MARCH. 

But,  to  our  minds,  the  notablest  of  all  these  moving  phe¬ 
nomena  is  that  of  Barbaroux’s  “  six  hundred  Marseillese  who 
know  how  to  die.” 

Prompt  to  the  request  of  Barbaroux,  the  Marseilles  Muni¬ 
cipality  has  got  these  men  together :  on  the  fifth  morning  of 
July,  the  Town-hall  says,  11  Marchez ,  abattez  le  Tyran ,  March, 
strike  down  the  Tyrant ;  ”  1  and  they,  with  grim  appropriate 
“ Marchons”  are  marching.  Long  journey,  doubtful  errand ; 
Enfans  de  la  Patrie,  may  a  good  genius  guide  you !  Their 
own  wild  heart  and  what  faith  it  has  will  guide  them  :  and 
is  not  that  the  monition  of  some  genius,  better  or  worse  ?  Five 
hundred  and  seventeen  able  men,  with  Captains  of  fifties  and 
tens  ;  well  armed  all,  musket  on  shoulder,  sabre  on  thigh  :  nay 
they  drive  three  pieces  of  cannon ;  for  who  knows  what  obsta¬ 
cles  may  occur  ?  Municipalities  there  are,  paralyzed  by  War- 
minister  ;  Commandants  with  orders  to  stop  even  Federation 
Volunteers :  good,  when  sound  arguments  will  not  open  a 
Town-gate,  if  you  have  a  petard  to  shiver  it !  They  have  left 
their  sunny  Phocean  City  and  Sea-haven,  with  its  bustle  and 
its  bloom  :  the  thronging  Course ,  with  high-frondent  Avenues, 
pitchy  dock-yards,  almond  and  olive  groves,  orange-trees  on 
house-tops,  and  white  glittering  bastides  that  crown  the  hills, 
are  all  behind  them.  They  wend  on  their  wild  way,  from  the 

1  Dampmartin,  ii.  183. 


Oha*  J.  LET  US  MARCH.  121 

July  5. 

extremity  of  French,  land,  through  unknown  cities,  toward  an 
unknown  destiny  ;  with  a  purpose  that  they  know. 

Much  wondering  at  this  phenomenon,  and  how,  in  a  peace¬ 
able  trading  City,  so  many  householders  or  hearth-holders  do 
severally  fling  down  their  crafts  and  industrial  tools  ;  gird 
themselves  with  weapons  of  war,  and  set  out  on  a  journey  of 
six  hundred  miles,  to  “  strike  down  the  tyrant,” — you  search 
in  all  Historical  Books,  Pamphlets  and  Newspapers,  for  some 
light  on  it :  unhappily  without  effect.  Rumor  and  Terror  pre¬ 
cede  this  march ;  which  still  echo  on  you  ;  the  march  itself  an 
unknown  thing.  Weber,  in  the  backstairs  of  the  Tuileries, 
has  understood  that  they  were  Formats,  Galley-slaves  and  mere 
scoundrels,  these  Marseillese  ;  that,  as  they  marched  through 
Lyons,  the  people  shut  their  shops  ;  —  also  that  the  number 
of  them  was  some  four  thousand .  Equally  vague  is  Blanc 
Gilli,  who  likewise  murmurs  about  Formats  and  danger  of 
plunder.1  Formats  they  were  not ;  neither  was  there  plunder 
or  danger  of  it.  Men  of  regular  life,  or  of  the  best-filled 
purse,  they  could  hardly  be  ;  the  one  thing  needful  in  them 
was  that  they  “  knew  how  to  die.”  Friend  Dampmartin  saw 
them,  with  his  own  eyes,  march  u  gradually  ”  through  his 
quarters  at  Yillefranche  in  the  Beaujolais  :  but  saw  in  the 
vaguest  manner ;  being  indeed  preoccupied,  and  himself 
minded  for  marching*  just  then  —  across  the  Rhine.  Deep 
was  his  astonishment  to  think  of  such  a  march,  without 
appointment  or  arrangement,  station  or  ration;  for  the  rest, 
it  was  “  the  same  men  he  had  seen  formerly  ”  in  the  troubles 
of  the  South;  u  perfectly  civil;”  though  his  soldiers  could  not 
be  kept  from  talking  a  little  with  them.2 

So  vague  are  all  these ;  Moniteur,  Histoire  Farlementaire 
are  as  good  as  silent :  garrulous  History,  as  is  too  usual,  will 
say  nothing  where  you  most  wish  her  to  speak !  If  enlight¬ 
ened  Curiosity  ever  get  sight  of  the  Marseilles  Council-Books, 
will  it  not  perhaps  explore  this  strangest  of  Municipal  proced- 

1  See  Barbaroux,  Memoires  (Note  in  pp.  40,  41). 

2  Dampmartin,  ubi  supra.  —  As  to  Dampmartin  himself  and  what  became 
of  him  farther,  see  Memoires  de  la  Comtesse  de  Lichtenau,  eerits  par  elle-meme  ; 
traduits  de  FAllemand  (a  Londres,  1809),  i.  200-207  ;  ii.  78-91. 


122  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

tires  ;  and  feel  called  to  lish  up  wliat  of  the  Biographies,  cred¬ 
itable  or  discreditable,  of  these  five  hundred  and  seventeen, 
the  stream  of  Time  has  not  yet  irrevocably  swallowed  ? 

As  it  is,  these  Marseillese  remain  inarticulate,  undistin- 
guishable  in  feature ;  a  black-browed  Mass,  full  of  grim  lire, 
who  wend  there,  in  the  hot  sultry  weather :  very  singular 
to  contemplate.  They  wend  ;  amid  the  infinitude  of  doubt 
and  dim  peril ;  they  not  doubtful :  Fate  and  Feudal  Europe, 
having  decided,  come  girdling  in  from  without ;  they,  hav¬ 
ing  also  decided,  do  march  within.  Dusty  of  face,  with 
frugal  refreshment,  they  plod  onwards ;  unweariable,  not 
to  be  turned  aside.  Such  march  will  become  famous.  The 
Thought,  which  works  voiceless  in  this  black-browed  mass, 
an  inspired  Tyrtsean  Colonel,  Rouget  de  Lille,  whom  the  Earth 
still  holds,1  has  translated  into  grim  melody  and  rhythm ; 
into  his  Hymn  or  March  of  the  Marseillese :  luckiest  musical- 
composition  ever  promulgated.  The  sound  of  which  will 
make  the  blood  tingle  in  men’s  veins ;  and  whole  Armies  and 
Assemblages  will  sing  it,  with  eyes  weeping  and  burning,  with 
hearts  defiant  of  Death,  Despot  and  Devil. 

One  sees  well,  these  Marseillese  will  be  too  late  for  the 
Federation  Feast.  In  fact,  it  is  not  Champ-de-Mars  Oaths 
that  they  have  in  view.  They  have  quite  another  feat  to  do  : 
a  paralytic  National  Executive  to  set  in  action.  They  must 
“strike  down”  whatsoever  “Tyrant,”  or  Martyr-Faineant, 
there  may  be  who  paralyzes  it ;  strike  and  be  struck ;  and  on 
the  whole  prosper,  and  know  how  to  die. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SOME  CONSOLATION  TO  MANKIND. 

Of  the  Federation  Feast  itself  we  shall  say  almost  nothing. 
There  are  Tents  pitched  in  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  tent  for  Na¬ 
tional  Assembly;  tent  for  Hereditary  Representative, — who 
indeed  is  there  too  early,  and  has  to  wait  long  in  it.  There 

1  a.d.  1836. 


Chap.  ill.  SOME  CONSOLATION  TO  MANKIND.  123 

July  22. 

are  eigh.ty-th.ree  symbolic  Departmental  Trees-of-Liberty ; 
trees  and  mais  enough :  beautifnlest  of  all,  there  is  one  huge 
mai,  hung  round  with  effete  Scutcheons,  Emblazonries  and 
Genealogy-books,  nay  better  still,  with  Lawyers’-bags,  “sacs 
de  procedure ;  ”  which  shall  be  burnt.  The  thirty  seat-rows 
of  that  famed  Slope  are  again  full ;  we  have  a  bright  Sun ; 
and  all  is  marching,  streamering  and  blaring :  but  what 
avails  it  ?  Virtuous  Mayor  Petion,  whom  Eeuillantism  had 
suspended,  was  reinstated  only  last  night,  by  Decree  of  the 
Assembly.  Men’s  humor  is  of  the  sourest.  Men’s  hats  have 
on  them,  written  in  chalk,  “  Vive  Petion and  even,  “  Petion 
or  Death,  Petion  ou  la  MortP 

Poor  Louis,  who  has  waited  till  five  o’clock  before  the 
Assembly  would  arrive,  swears  the  National  Oath  this  time, 
with  a  quilted  cuirass  under  his  waistcoat  which  will  turn 
pistol-bullets.1  Madame  de  Stael,  from  that  Royal  Tent, 
stretches  out  the  neck  in  a  kind  of  agony,  lest  the  waving 
multitude  which  received  him  may  not  render  him  back  alive. 
No  cry  of  Vive  le  Poi  salutes  the  ear ;  cries  only  of  Vive 
Petion ;  Petion  ou  la  Mort.  The  National  Solemnity  is  as  it 
were  huddled  by ;  each  cowering  off  almost  before  the  evolu¬ 
tions  are  gone  through.  The  very  Mai  with  its  Scutcheons 
and  Lawyers’-bags  is  forgotten,  stands  unburnt ;  till  “  certain 
Patriot  Deputies,”  called  by  the  people,  set  a  torch  to  it,  by 
way  of  voluntary  after-piece.  Sadder  Peast  of  Pikes  no  man 
ever  saw. 

Mayor  Petion,  named  on  hats,  is  at  his  zenith  in  this 
Pederation :  Lafayette  again  is  close  upon  his  nadir.  Why 
does  the  storm-bell  of  Saint-Roch  speak  out,  next  Saturday ; 
why  do  the  citizens  shut  their  shops  ?  2  It  is  Sections  defil¬ 
ing,  it  is  fear  of  effervescence.  Legislative  Committee,  long 
deliberating  on  Lafayette  and  that  Anti-jacobin  visit  of  his, 
reports,  this  day,  that  there  is  “  not  ground  for  Accusation  ” ! 
Peace,  ye  Patriots,  nevertheless ;  and  let  that  tocsin  cease : 
the  Debate  is  not  finished,  nor  the  Report  accepted;  but 

1  Campan,  ii.  c.  20.  De  Stael,  ii.  c.  7. 

2  Moniteur,  Seance  du  21  Juillet,  1792. 


124 


THE  MABSEILLESE. 


Book  XIII. 
.1792. 


Brissot,  Isnard  and  the  Mountain  will  sift  it,  and  resift  it, 
perhaps  for  some  three  weeks  longer. 

So  many  bells,  storm-bells  and  noises  do  ring;  —  scarcely 
audible  ;  one  drowning  the  other.  For  example  :  in  this  same 
Lafayette  tocsin,  of  Saturday,  was  there  not  withal  some 
faint  bob-minor,  and  Deputation  of  Legislative,  ringing  the 
Chevalier  Paul  Jones  to  his  long  rest;  tocsin  or  dirge  now 
all  one  to  him !  Not  ten  days  hence  Patriot  Brissot,  be- 
shouted  this  day  by  the  Patriot  Galleries,  shall  find  himself 
begroaned  by  them,  on  account  of  his  limited  Patriotism ; 
nay  pelted  at  while  perorating,  and  “  hit  with  two  prunes.”  1 
It  is  a  distracted  empty  ^sounding  world;  of  bob-minors  and 
bob-majors,  of  triumph  and  terror,  of  rise  and  fall ! 

The  more  touching  is  this  other  Solemnity,  which  happens 
on  the  morrow  of  the  Lafayette  tocsin:  Proclamation  that 
the  Country  is  in  Danger.  Not  till  the  present  Sunday  could 
such  Solemnity  be.  The  Legislative  decreed  it  almost  a  fort¬ 
night  ago ;  but  Loyalty  and  the  ghost  of  a  Ministry  held 
back  as  they  could.  Now  however,  on  this  Sunday,  22d  day 
of  July,  1792,  it  will  hold  back  no  longer;  and  the  Solemnity 
in  very  deed  is.  Touching  to  behold !  Municipality  and 
Mayor  have  on  their  scarfs ;  cannon-salvo  booms  alarm  from 
the  Pont-Neuf,  and  single-gun  at  intervals  all  day.  Guards 
are  mounted,  scarfed  Notabilities,  Halberdiers,  and  a  Caval¬ 
cade  ;  with  streamers,  emblematic  flags ;  especially  with  one 
huge  Flag,  flapping  mournfully :  Citoyens,  la  Patrie  est  en 
Danger.  They  roll  through  the  streets,  with  stern-sounding 
music,  and  slow  rattle  of  hoofs ;  pausing  at  set  stations,  and 
with  doleful  blast  of  trumpet  singing  out  through  Herald’s 
throat,  what  the  Flag  says  to  the  eye :  u  Citizens,  our  Country 
is  in  Danger  !  ” 

Is  there  a  man’s  heart  that  hears  it  without  a  thrill  ?  The 
many-voiced  responsive  hum  or  bellow  of  these  multitudes  is 
not  of  triumph ;  and  yet  it  is  a  sound  deeper  than  triumph. 
But  when  the  long  Cavalcade  and  Proclamation  ended;  and 
our  huge  Flag  was  fixed  on  the  Pont-Neuf,  another  like  it  on 
the  Hotel-de-Yille,  to  wave  there  till  better  days ;  and  each 


1  Hist.  Pari.  xvi.  185. 


CHAP.  III.  SOME  CONSOLATION  TO  MANKIND.  125 

July  25. 

Municipal  sat  in  the  centre  of  his  Section,  in  a  Tent  raised  * 
in  some  open  square,  Tents  surmounted  with  flags  of  Patrie 
en  Danger ,  and  topmost  of  all  a  Pike  and  Bonnet  Rouge ;  and, 
on  two  drums  in  front  of  him,  there  lay  a  plank  table,  and 
on  this  an  open  Book,  and  a  Clerk  sat,  like  recording-angel, 
ready  to  write  the  lists,  or  as  we  say  to  enlist !  Oh,  then,  it 
seems,  the  very  gods  might  have  looked  down  on  it.  Young 
Patriotism,  Culottic  and  Sansculottic,  rushes  forward  emulous : 
That  is  my  name  ;  name,  blood  and  life  is  all  my  country’s ; 
why  have  I  nothing  more!  Youths  of  short  stature  weep 
that  they  are  below  size.  Old  men  come  forward,  a  son  in 
each  hand.  Mothers  themselves  will  grant  the  son  of  their 
travail ;  send  him,  though  with  tears.  And  the  multitude 
bellows  Vive  la  Patrie ,  far  reverberating.  And  fire  flashes  in 
the  eyes  of  men ;  —  and  at  eventide,  your  Municipal  returns 
to  the  Town-hall  followed  by  his  long  train  of  Volunteer  valor ; 
hands  in  his  List ;  says  proudly,  looking  round,  “  This  is  my 
day’s  harvest.”  1  They  will  march,  on  the  morrow,  to  Sois- 
sons ;  small  bundle  holding  all  their  chattels. 

So,  with  Vive  %la  Patrie ,  Vive  la  Liberte ,  stone  Paris  rever¬ 
berates  like  Ocean  in  his  caves ;  day  after  day,  Municipals 
enlisting  in  tricolor  Tent;  the  Flag  flapping  on  Pont-Neuf 
and  Town-hall,  Citoyens,  la  Patrie  est  en  Danger.  Some  ten 
thousand  fighters,  without  discipline  but  full  of  heart,  are  on 
march  in  few  days.  The  like  is  doing  in  every  Town  of 
France.  —  Consider,  therefore,  whether  the  Country  will  want 
defenders,  had  we  but  a  National  Executive  ?  Let  the  Sec¬ 
tions  and  Primary  Assemblies,  at  any  rate,  become  Perma¬ 
nent  !  They  do  become  Permanent,  and  sit  continually  in 
Paris,  and  over  France,  by  Legislative  Decree,  dated  Wednes¬ 
day  the  25th.2 

Mark  contrariwise  how,  in  these  very  hours,  dated  the 
25th,  Brunswick  “ shakes  himself,  s'ebranle”  in  Coblentz ;  and 
takes  the  road !  Shakes  himself  indeed ;  one  spoken  word 
becomes  such  a  shaking.  Successive,  simultaneous  dirl  of 
thirty-thousand  muskets  shouldered;  prance  and  jingle  of 

1  Tableau  de  la  Revolution,  §  Patrie  en  Danger. 

2  Moniteur,  Seance  du  25  Juillet,  1792. 


126  THE  MAKSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

« ten  thousand  horsemen,  fanfaronading  Emigrants  in  the 
van ;  drum,  kettledrum ;  noise  of  weeping,  swearing ;  and  the 
immeasurable  lumbering  clank  of  baggage-wagons  and  camp- 
kettles  that  groan  into  motion :  all  this  is  Brunswick  shak¬ 
ing  himself;  not  without  all  this  does  the  one  man  march, 
“covering  a  space  of  forty  miles.”  Still  less  without  his 
Manifesto,  dated,  as  we  say,  the  25th;  a  State-Paper  worthy 
of  attention ! 

By  this  Document,  it  would  seem  great  things  are  in  store 
for  Prance.  The  universal  French  People  shall  now  have  per¬ 
mission  to  rally  round  Brunswick  and  his  Emigrant  Seign¬ 
eurs  ;  tyranny  of  a  Jacobin  Faction  shall  oppress  them  no 
more ;  but  they  shall  return,  and  find  favor  with  their  own 
good  King;  who,  by  Boyal  Declaration  (three  years  ago)  of 
the  Twenty-third  of  June,  said  that  he  would  himself  make 
them  happy.  As  for  National  Assembly,  and  other  Bodies  of 
Men  invested  with  some  temporary  shadow  of  authority,  they 
are  charged  to  maintain  the  King’s  Cities  and  Strong  Places 
intact,  till  Brunswick  arrive  to  take  delivery  of  them.  Indeed, 
quick  submission  may  extenuate  many  things ;  but  to  this  end 
it  must  be  quick.  Any  National  Guard  or  other  unmilitary 
person  found  resisting  in  arms  shall  be  “  treated  as  a  traitor ;  ” 
that  is  to  say,  hanged  with  promptitude.  For  the  rest,  if  Paris, 
before  Brunswick  gets  thither,  offer  any  insult  to  the  King ; 
or,  for  example,  suffer  a  Faction  to  carry  the  King  away  else¬ 
whither  ;  in  that  case,  Paris  shall  be  blasted  asunder  with 
cannon-shot  and  “  military  execution.”  Likewise  all  other 
Cities,  which  may  witness,  and  not  resist  to  the  uttermost, 
such  forced-march  of  his  Majesty,  shall  be  blasted  asunder; 
and  Paris  and  every  City  of  them,  starting-place,  course  and 
goal  of  said  sacrilegious  forced-march,  shall,  as  rubbish  and 
smoking  ruin,  lie  there  for  a  sign.  Such  vengeance  were  in¬ 
deed  signal,  “  an  insigne  vengeance :  ”  —  0  Brunswick,  what 
words  thou  writest  and  blusterest !  In  this  Paris,  as  in  old 
Nineveh,  are  so  many  score  thousands  that  know  not  the  right 
hand  from  the  left,  and  also  much  cattle.  Shall  the  very 
milk-cows,  hard-living  cadgers’-asses,  and  poor  little  canary- 
birds  die  ? 


Chap.  IV.  SUBTERRANEAN.  127 

July. 

Nor  is  Royal  and  Imperial  Prussian- Austrian  Declaration 
wanting :  setting  forth,  in  the  amplest  manner,  their  Sans-souci- 
Schonbrunn  version  of  this  whole  French  Revolution,  since 
the  first  beginning  of  it ;  and  with  what  grief  these  high  heads 
have  seen  such  things  done  under  the  Sun.  However,  “  as 
some  small  consolation  to  mankind,”  1  they  do  now  despatch 
Brunswick;  regardless  of  expense,  as  one  might  say,  or  of 
sacrifices  on  their  own  part;  for  is  it  not  the  first  duty  to 
console  men  ? 

Serene  Highnesses,  who  sit  there  protocolling  and  mani- 
festoing,  and  consoling  mankind !  how  were  it  if,  for  once  in 
the  thousand  years,  your  parchments,  formularies  and  reasons 
of  state  were  blown  to  the  four  winds  ;  and  Reality  Sans-indis- 
pensables  stared  you,  even  you,  in  the  face ;  and  Mankind  said 
for  itself  what  the  thing  was  that  would  console  it  ?  — 


- « - - 

CHAPTER  IV. 

SUBTERRANEAN. 

But  judge  if  there  was  comfort  in  this  to  the  Sections  all 
sitting  permanent ;  deliberating  how  a  National  Executive 
could  be  put  in  action ! 

High  rises  the  response,  not  of  cackling  terror  but  of  crow¬ 
ing  counter-defiance,  and  Vive  la  Nation  ;  young  Valor  stream¬ 
ing  towards  the  Frontiers  ;  Patrie  en  Danger  mutely  beckoning 
on  the  Pont-Neuf.  Sections  are  busy,  in  their  permanent 
Deep ;  and  down,  lower  still,  works  unlimited  Patriotism, 
seeking  salvation  in  plot.  Insurrection,  you  would  say,  be¬ 
comes  once  more  the  sacredest  of  duties  ?  Committee,  self- 
chosen,  is  sitting  at  the  Sign  of  the  Golden  Sun;  Journalist 
Carra,  Camille  Desmoulins,  Alsacian  Westermann  friend  of 
Danton,  American  Fournier  of  Martinique  ;  —  a  Committee 
not  unknown  to  Mayor  Petion,  who,  as  an  official  person,  must 

1  Annual  Register  (1792),  p.  236. 


128  THE  MAKSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

sleep  with  one  eye  open.  Not  unknown  to  Procureur  Manuel ; 
least  of  all  to  Procureur-Substitute  Danton  !  He,  wrapped  in 
darkness,  being  also  official,  bears  it  on  his  giant  shoulders  ; 
cloudy  invisible  Atlas  of  the  whole. 

Much  is  invisible ;  the  very  J acobins  have  their  reticences. 
Insurrection  is  to  be  :  but  when  ?  This  only  we  can  discern, 
that  such  Federes  as  are  not  yet  gone  to  Soissons,  as  indeed 
are  not  inclined  to  go  yet,  “for  reasons,”  says  the  Jacobin 
President,  “  which  it  may  be  interesting  not  to  state,”  —  have 
got  a  Central  Committee  sitting  close  by,  under  the  roof  of 
the  Mother  Society  herself.  Also,  what  in  such  ferment  and 
danger  of  effervescence  is  surely  proper,  the  Forty -eight  Sec¬ 
tions  have  got  their  Central  Committee ;  intended  “  for  prompt 
communication.”  To  which  Central  Committee  the  Munici¬ 
pality,  anxious  to  have  it  at  hand,  could  not  refuse  an  Apart¬ 
ment  in  the  Hotel-de-Yille. 

Singular  City  !  For  overhead  of  all  this,  there  is  the  custo¬ 
mary  baking  and  brewing  ;  Labor  hammers  and  grinds.  Frilled 
promenaders  saunter  under  the  trees  ;  white-muslin  promena- 
deress,  in  green  parasol,  leaning  on  your  arm.  Dogs  dance, 
and  shoeblacks  polish,  on  that  Pont-Neuf  itself,  where  Father- 
land  is  in  danger.  So  much  goes  its  course ;  and  yet  the 
course  of  all  things  is  nigh  altering  and  ending. 

Look  at  that  Tuileries  and  Tuileries  Garden.  Silent  all  as 
Sahara ;  none  entering  save  by  ticket !  They  shut  their  Gates, 
after  the  day  of  the  Black  Breeches ;  a  thing  they  had  the 
liberty  to  do.  However,  the  National  Assembly  grumbled 
something  about  Terrace  of  the  Feuillants,  how  said  Terrace 
lay  contiguous  to  the  back-entrance  to  their  Salle,  and  was 
partly  National  Property;  and  so  now  National  Justice  has 
stretched  a  Tricolor  Bibbon  athwart  it,  by  way  of  boundary¬ 
line;  respected  with  splenetic  strictness  by  all  Patriots.  It 
hangs  there,  that  Tricolor  boundary-line ;  carries  “  satirical 
inscriptions  on  cards,”  generally  in  verse ;  and  all  beyond  this 
is  called  Coblentz,  and  remains  vacant ;  silent  as  a  fateful  Gol¬ 
gotha;  sunshine  and  umbrage  alternating  on  it  in  vain.  Fateful 
Circuit :  what  hope  can  dwell  in  it  ?  Mysterious  Tickets  of 
Entry  introduce  themselves;  speak  of  Insurrection  very  im- 


Chap.  IV.  SUBTERRANEAN.  129 

July. 

rninent.  Rivarol’s  Staff  of  Genius  had  better  purchase  blun¬ 
derbusses  ;  Granadier  bonnets,  red  Swiss  uniforms  may  be 
useful.  Insurrection  will  come ;  but  likewise  will  it  not  be 
met  ?  Staved  off,  one  may  hope,  till  Brunswick  arrive  ? 

But  consider  withal  if  the  Bourne-stones  and  Portable-chairs 
remain  silent ;  if  the  Herald’s  College  of  Bill-Stickers  sleep ! 
Bouvet’s  Sentinel  warns  gratis  on  all  walls ;  Sulleau  is  busy ; 
People’ s-Friend  Marat  and  King’ s-Friend  Royou  croak  and 
counter-croak.  Por  the  man  Marat,  though  long  hidden  since 
that  Champ-de-Mars  Massacre,  is  still  alive.  He  has  lain,  who 
knows  in  what  cellars ;  perhaps  in  Legendre’s ;  fed  by  a  steak 
of  Legendre’s  killing :  but,  since  April,  the  bull-frog  voice  of 
him  sounds  again ;  hoarsest  of  earthly  cries.  Por  the  present, 
black  terror  haunts  him :  0  brave  Barbaroux,  wilt  thou  not 
smuggle  me  to  Marseilles,  “ disguised  as  a  jockey”?1  In 
Palais  Royal  and  all  public  places,  as  we  read,  there  is  sharp 
activity  ;  private  individuals  haranguing  that  Valor  may  enlist ; 
haranguing  that  the  Executive  may  be  put  in  action.  Royalist 
Journals  ought  to  be  solemnly  burnt :  argument  thereupon ; 
debates,  which  generally  end  in  single-stick,  coups  de  Cannes .3 
Or  think  of  this  ;  the  hour  midnight ;  place  Salle  de  Manege ; 
august  Assembly  just  adjourning ;  “  Citizens  of  both  sexes 
enter  in  a  rush,  exclaming,  Vengeance ;  they  are  poisoning  our 
Brothers  ;  ”  —  baking  brayed-glass  among  their  bread  at  Sois- 
sons  !  Vergniaud  has  to  speak  soothing  words,  How  Commis¬ 
sioners  are  already  sent  to  investigate  this  brayed-glass,  and 
do  what  is  needful  therein ;  —  till  the  rush  of  Citizens  u  makes 
profound  silence  j  ”  and  goes  home  to  its  bed. 

Such  is  Paris ;  the  heart  of  a  France  like  to  it.  Preter¬ 
natural  suspicion,  doubt,  disquietude,  nameless  anticipation, 
from  shore  to  shore  :  —  and  those  black-browed  Marseillese 
marching,  dusty,  unwearied,  through  the  midst  of  it ;  not 
doubtful  they.  Marching  to  the  grim  music  of  their  hearts, 
they  consume  continually  the  long  road,  these  three  weeks  and 
more ;  heralded  by  Terror  and  Rumor.  The  Brest  Federes 
arrive  on  the  26th;  through  hurrahing  streets.  Determined 

1  Barbaroux,  p.  60. 

2  Newspapers,  Narratives  and  Documents  (Hist.  Pari.  xv.  240;  xvi.  399). 

VOL.  IV.  9 


130  '  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

men  are  these  also,  bearing  or  not  bearing  the  Sacred  Pikes  of 
Chateau-Vieux ;  and  on  the  whole  decidedly  disinclined  for 
Soissons  as  yet.  Surely  the  Marseillese  Brethren  do  draw 
nigher  all  days. 

-■  ■■  ♦ 

CHAPTER  V. 

AT  DINNER. 

It  was  a  bright  day  for  Charenton,  that  29th  of  the  month, 
when  the  Marseillese  Brethren  actually  came  in  sight.  Bar- 
baroux,  Santerre  and  Patriots  have  gone  out  to  meet  the  grim 
Wayfarers.  Patriot  clasps  dusty  Patriot  to  his  bosom ;  there 
is  foot-washing  and  refection :  “  dinner  of  twelve  hundred 
covers  at  the  Blue  Dial,  Cadran  Bleu ;  ”  and  deep  interior 
consultation,  that  one  wots  not  of.1  Consultation  indeed 
which  comes  to  little  ;  for  .  Santerre,  with  an  open  purse,  with 
a  loud  voice,  has  almost  no  head.  Here,  however,  we  repose 
this  night :  on  the  morrow  is  public  entry  into  Paris. 

Of  which  public  entry  the  Day-Historians,  Diurnalists,  or 
J ournalists  as  they  call  themselves,  have  preserved  record  - 
enough.  How  Saint- Antoine  male  and  female,  and  Paris  gen¬ 
erally,  gave  brotherly  welcome,  with  bravo  and  hand-clapping, 
in  crowded  streets  ;  and  all  passed  in  the  peaceablest  man¬ 
ner  ;  —  except  it  might  be  our  Marseillese  pointed  out  here 
and  there  a  ribbon-cockade,  and  beckoned  that  it  should  be 
snatched  away,  and  exchanged  for  a  wool  one ;  which  was 
done.  How  the  Mother  Society  in  a  body  has  come  as  far  as 
the  Bastille-ground,  to  embrace  you.  How  you  then  wend 
onwards,  triumphant,  to  the  Town-hall,  to  be  embraced  by 
Mayor  Petion ;  to  put  down  your  muskets  in  the  Barracks 
of  Nouvelle  France,  not  far  off ;  —  then  towards  the  appointed 
Tavern  in  the  Champs  Ely  sees,  to  enjoy  a  frugal  Patriot 
repast.2 

1  Deux  Amis,  viii.  90-101. 

2  Hist.  Pari.  xvi.  196.  See  Barbaroux,  pp.  51-55. 


Chap.  V.  AT  DINNER.  131 

July  29. 

Of  all  which  the  indignant  Tuileries  may,  by  its  Tickets 
of  Entry,  have  warning.  Red  Swiss  look  doubly  sharp  to 
their  Chateau-Grates  ;  —  though  surely  there  is  no  danger  ? 
Blue  Grenadiers  of  the  Eilles-Saint-Thomas  Section  are  on 
duty  there  this  day:  men  of  Agio,  as  we  have  seen;  with 
stuffed  purses,  ribbon-cockades ;  among  whom  serves  Weber. 
A  party  of  these  latter,  with  Captains,  with  sundry  Eeuillant 
Notabilities,  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery  of  the  three  thousand 
orders,  and  others,  have  been  dining,  much  more  respectably, 
in  a  Tavern  hard  by.  They  have  dined,  and  are  now  drink¬ 
ing  Loyal-Patriotic  toasts  ;  while  the  Marseillese,  National- 
Patriotic  merely,  are  about  sitting  down  to  their  frugal  covers 
of  delf.  How  it  happened  remains  to  this  day  undemonstra- 
ble  ;  but  the  external  fact  is,  certain  of  these  Filles-Saint- 
Thomas  Grenadiers  do  issue  from  their  Tavern ;  perhaps 
touched,  surely  not  yet  muddled  with  any  liquor  they  have 
had ;  —  issue  in  the  professed  intention  of  testifying  to  the 
Marseillese,  or  to  the  multitude  of  Paris  Patriots  who  stroll 
in  these  spaces,  That  they,  the  Eilles-Saint-Thomas  men,  if 
well  seen  into,  are  not  a  whit  less  Patriotic  than  any  other 
class  of  men  whatever. 

It  was  a  rash  errand  !  For  how  can  the  strolling  multitude 
credit  such  a  thing ;  or  do  other  indeed  than  hoot  at  it,  pro¬ 
voking  and  provoked  ?  —  till  Grenadier  sabres  stir  in  the 
scabbard,  and  thereupon  a  sharp  shriek  rises  :  “  A  nous  Mar¬ 
seillais  !  Help,  Marseillese  !  ”  Quick  as  lightning,  for  the  fru¬ 
gal  repast  is  not  yet  served,  that  Marseillese  Tavern  flings 
itself  open :  by  door,  by  window ;  Tunning,  bounding,  vault 
forth  the  five  hundred  and  seventeen  undined  Patriots ;  and, 
sabre  flashing  from  thigh,  are  on  the  scene  of  controversy. 
Will  ye  parley,  ye  Grenadier  Captains  and  Official  Persons ; 
“  with  faces  grown  suddenly  pale,”  the  Deponents  say  ? 1  Ad- 
visabler  were  instant  moderately  swift  retreat !  The  Filles- 
Saint-Thomas  men  retreat,  back  foremost ;  then,  alas,  face 
foremost,  at  treble-quick  time  ;  the  Marseillese,  according  to 
a  Deponent,  “  clearing  the  fences  and  ditches  after  them,  like 
lions  :  Messieurs,  it  was  an  imposing  spectacle.” 

1  Moniteur,  Seances  du  30,  du  31  Juillet,  1792  (Hist.  Pari.  xvi.  197-210). 


132  THE  M ARSEILLESE .  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

Thus  they  retreat,  the  Marseillese  following.  Swift  and 
swifter,  towards  the  Tuileries :  where  the  Drawbridge  receives 
the  bulk  of  the  fugitives ;  and,  then  suddenly  drawn  up,  saves 
them ;  or  else  the  green  mud  of  the  Ditch  does  it.  The  bulk 
of  them ;  not  all ;  ah,  no  !  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery,  for  exam¬ 
ple,  being  too  fat,  could  not  fly  fast;  he  got  a  stroke,  fiat- 
stroke  only,  over  the  shoulder-blades,  and  fell  prone ;  —  and 
disappears  there  from  the  History  of  the  Revolution.  Cuts 
also  there  were,  pricks  in  the  posterior  fleshy  parts ;  much 
rending  of  skirts,  and  other  discrepant  waste.  But  poor  Sub¬ 
lieutenant  Duhamel,  innocent  Change-broker,  what  a  lot  for 
him  !  He  turned  on  his  pursuer,  or  pursuers,  with  a  pistol ; 
he  fired  and  missed ;  drew  a  second  pistol,  and  again  fired  and 
missed  ;  then  ran  :  unhappily  in  vain.  In  the  Rue  Saint-Floren- 
tin,  they  clutched  him  ;  thrust  him  through,  in  red  rage  :  that 
was  the  end  of  the  Hew  Era,  and  of  all  Eras,  to  poor  Duhamel. 

Pacific  readers  can  fancy  what  sort  of  grace-before-meat 
this  was  to  frugal  Patriotism.  Also  how  the  Battalion  of 
the  Eilles-Saint-Thomas  “drew  out  in  arms/’  luckily  without 
farther  result ;  how  there  was  accusation  at  the  Bar  of  the 
Assembly,  and  counter-accusation  and  defence ;  Marseillese 
challenging  the  sentence  of  a  free  jury-court,  which  never  got 
empanelled.  We  ask  rather,  What  the  upshot  of  all  these 
distracted  wildly  accumulating  things  may,  by  probability,  be  ? 
Some  upshot ;  and  the  time  draws  nigh !  Busy  are  Central 
Committees,  of  Federes  at  the  Jacobins  Church,  of  Sections 
at  the  Town-hall ;  Reunion  of  Carra,  Camille  and  Company  at 
the  Golden  Sun.  Busy ;  like  submarine  deities,  or  call  them 
mud-gods,  working  there  in  deep  murk  of  waters  ;  till  the 
thing  be  ready. 

And  how  your  National  Assembly,  like  a  ship  water-logged, 
helmless,  lies  tumbling;  the  Galleries,  of  shrill  Women,  of 
Federes  with  sabres,  bellowing  down  on  it,  not  unfrightful ;  — 
and  waits  where  the  waves  of  chance  may  please  to  strand  it ; 
suspicious,  nay  on  the  Left  side,  conscious,  what  submarine 
Explosion  is  meanwhile  a-charging  !  Petition  for  King’s  For¬ 
feiture  rises  often  there :  Petition  from  Paris  Section,  from 
Provincial  Patriot  Towns  ;  “  from  Alenin,  Brian$on,  and  thf'- 


Chap.  V.  AT  DINNER.  133 

Aug.  3-5. 

Traders  at  the  Fair  of  Beaucaire.”  Or  what  of  these  ?  On 
the  3d  of  August,  Mayor  Petion  and  the  Municipality  come 
petitioning  for  Forfeiture  :  they  openly,  in  their  tricolor  Mu¬ 
nicipal  scarfs.  Forfeiture  is  what  all  Patriots  now  want  and 
expect.  All  Brissotins  want  Forfeiture  ;  with  the  little  Prince 
Royal  for  King,  and  us  for  Protector  over  him.  Emphatic 
Federes  ask  the  Legislature :  “  Can  you  save  us,  or  not  ?  ” 
Forty-seven  Sections  have  agreed  to  Forfeiture ;  only  that  of 
the  Filles-Saint-Thomas  pretending  to  disagree.  Kay  Section 
Mauconseil  declares  Forfeiture  to  be,  properly  speaking,  come ; 
Mauconseil,  for  one,  “  does  from  this  day,”  the  last  of  July, 
“cease  allegiance  to  Louis,”  and  take  minute  of  the  same 
before  all  men.  A  thing  blamed  aloud ;  but  which  will  be 
praised  aloud;  and  the  name  Mauconseil ,  of  Ill-counsel,  be 
thenceforth  changed  to  Bonconseil,  of  Good-counsel. 

President  Danton,  in  the  Cordeliers  Section,  does  another 
thing :  invites  all  Passive  Citizens  to  take  place  among  the 
Active  in  Section-business,  one  peril  threatening  all.  Thus  he, 
though  an  official  person ;  cloudy  Atlas  of  the  whole.  Like¬ 
wise  he  manages  to  have  that  black-browed  Battalion  of  Mar- 
seillese,  shifted  to  new  Barracks,  in  his  own  region  of  the 
remote  Southeast.  Sleek  Chaumette,  cruel  Billaud,  Deputy 
Chabot  the  Disfrocked,  Huguenin  with  the  tocsin  in  his  heart, 
will  welcome  them  there.  Wherefore  again  and  again,  “0 
Legislators,  can  you  save  us  or  not  ?  ”  Poor  Legislators ;  with 
their  Legislature  water-logged,  volcanic  Explosion  charging 
under  it !  Forfeiture  shall  be  debated  on  the  ninth  of  Au¬ 
gust  ;  that  miserable  business  of  Lafayette  may  be  expected 
to  terminate  on  the  eighth. 

Or  will  the  humane  Reader  glance  into  the  Levee-day  of 
Sunday  the  fifth  ?  The  last  Levee  !  Not  for  a  long  time, 
“never,”  says  Bertrand-Moleville,  had  a  Levee  been  so  bril¬ 
liant,  at  least  so  crowded.  A  sad  presaging  interest  sat  on 
every  face;  Bertrand’s  own  eyes  were  filled  with  tears.  For 
indeed,  outside  of  that  Tricolor  Ribbon  on  the  Feuillants 
Terrace,  Legislature  is  debating,  Sections  are  defiling,  all 
Paris  is  astir  this  very  Sunday,  demanding  Decheance.1  Here, 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xvi.  337-339. 


134 


THE  MARSEILLESE. 


Book  XIII. 
1792. 

however,  within  the  ribbon,  a  grand  proposal  is  on  foot,  for 
the  hundredth  time,  of  carrying  his  Majesty  to  Rouen  and  the, 
Castle  of  Gaillon.  Swiss  at  Courbevoye  are  in  readiness ; 
much  is  ready;  Majesty  himself  seems  almost  ready.  Never¬ 
theless,  for  the  hundredth  time,  Majesty,  when  near  the  point 
of  action,  draws  back ;  writes,  after  one  has  waited,  palpitat¬ 
ing,  an  endless  summer  day,  that  “he  has  reason  to  believe 
the  Insurrection  is  not  so  ripe  as  you  suppose.”  Whereat  Ber- 
trand-Moleville  breaks  forth  “  into  extremity  at  once  of  spleen 
and  despair,  d’humeur  et  de  desespoir  ?  ”  1 

- » 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  STEEPLES  AT  MIDNIGHT. 

For,  in  truth,  the  Insurrection  is  just  about  ripe.  Thurs¬ 
day  is  the  ninth  of  the  month  August :  if  Forfeiture  be  not 
pronounced  by  the  Legislature  that  day,  we  must  pronounce  it 
ourselves. 

Legislature  ?  A  poor  water-logged  Legislature  can  pro¬ 
nounce  nothing.  On  Wednesday  the  eighth,  after  endless 
oratory  once  again,  they  cannot  even  pronounce  Accusation 
against  Lafayette  ;  but  absolve  him,  —  hear  it,  Patriotism  !  — 
by  a  majority  of  two  to  one.  Patriotism  hears  it;  Patriot¬ 
ism,  hounded  on  by  Prussian  Terror,  by  Preternatural  Suspi¬ 
cion,  roars  tumultuous  round  the  Salle  de  Manege,  all  day ; 
insults  many  leading  Deputies,  of  the  absolvent  Right-side  ; 
nay  chases  them,  collars  them  with  loud  menace  :  Deputy  Vau- 
blanc,  and  others  of  the  like,  are  glad  to  take  refuge  in  Guard¬ 
houses,  and  escape  by  the  back  window.  ‘  And  so,  next  day, 
there  is  infinite  complaint ;  Letter  after  Letter  from  insulted 
Deputy ;  mere  complaint,  debate  and  self-cancelling  jargon : 
the  sun  of  Thursday  sets  like  the  others,  and  no  Forfeiture 
pronounced.  Wherefore,  in  fine,  To  your  tents,  0  Israel ! 

1  Bertrand-Moleville,  Mtmoires,  ii.  129. 


Chap.  VI.  THE  STEEPLES  AT  MIDNIGHT.  135 

August  9. 

The  Mother  Society  ceases  speaking ;  groups  cease  harangu¬ 
ing  :  Patriots,  with  closed  lips  now,  “  take  one  another’s  arm  ;  ” 
walk  off,  in  rows,  two  and  two,  at  a  brisk  business-pace  ;  and 
vanish  afar  in  the  obscure  places  of  the  East.1  Santerre  is 
ready  ;  or  we  will  make  him  ready.  Forty-seven  of  the  Forty- 
eight  Sections  are  ready  ;  nay,  Filles-Saint-Thomas  itself  turns 
up  the  Jacobin  side  of  it,  turns  down  the  Feuillant  side  of 
it,  and  is  ready  too.  Let  the  unlimited  Patriot  look  to  his 
weapon,  be  it  pike,  be  it  firelock  ;  and  the  Brest  brethren,  — 
above  all,  the  black-browed  Marseillese  prepare  themselves  for 
the  extreme  hour !  Syndic  Bcederer  knows,  and  laments  or 
not  as  the  issue  may  turn,  that  “  five  thousand  ball-cartridges, 
within  these  few  days,  have  been  distributed  to  Federes,  at 
the  Hotel-de-Ville.”  2 

And  ye  likewise,  gallant  gentlemen,  defenders  of  Eoyalty, 
crowd  ye  on  your  side  to  the  Tuileries.  Not  to  a  Levee  :  no, 
to  a  Couchee  ;  where  much  will  be  put  to  bed.  Your  Tickets 
of  Entry  are  needful ;  needfuler  your  blunderbusses  !  —  They 
come  and  crowd,  like  gallant  men  who  also  know  how  to  die : 
old  Maille  the  Camp-Marshal  has  come,  his  eyes  gleaming 
once  again,  though  dimmed  by  the  rheum  of  almost  fourscore 
years.  Courage,  Brothers  !  We  have  a  thousand  red  Swiss  ; 
men  stanch  of  heart,  steadfast  as  the  granite  of  their  Alps. 
National  Grenadiers  are  at  least  friends  of  Order ;  Command¬ 
ant  Mandat  breathes  loyal  ardor,  will  “  answer  for  it  on  his 
head.”  Mandat  will,  and  his  Staff  ;  for  the  Staff,  though  there 
stands  a  doom  and  Decree  to  that  effect,  is  happily  never  yet 
dissolved. 

Commandant  Mandat  has  corresponded  with  Mayor  Petion ; 
carries  a  written  Order  from  him  these  three  days,  to  repel 
force  by  force.  A  squadron  on  the  Pont-Neuf  with  cannon 
shall  turn  back  these  Marseillese  coming  across  the  Biver :  a 
squadron  at  the  Town-hall  shall  cut  Saint- Antoine  in  two,  “  as 
it  issues  from  the  Arcade  Saint- Jean ;  ”  drive  one  half  back  to 
the  obscure  East,  drive  the  other  half  forward  “  through  the 
Wickets  of  the  Louvre.”  Squadrons  not  a  few,  and  mounted 

1  Deux  Amis,  viii.  129-188. 

2  Roederer  a  la  Barre  (Seance  du  9  Aoftt,  in  Hist.  Pari  xvi.  393). 


136  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

squadrons  ;  squadrons  in  the  Palais  Royal,  in  the  Place  Ven- 
dome :  all  these  shall  charge,  at  the  right  moment ;  sweep  this 
street,  and  then  sweep  that.  Some  new  Twentieth  of  June  we 
shall  have  ;  only  still  more  ineffectual  ?  Or  probably  the 
Insurrection  will  not  dare  to  rise  at  all  ?  Mandat’s  Squad¬ 
rons,  Horse-Gendarmerie  and  blue  Guard’s  march,  clattering, 
tramping ;  Mandat’s  Cannoneers  rumble.  Under  cloud  of 
night ;  to  the  sound  of  his  generate,  which  begins  drumming 
when  men  should  go  to  bed.  It  is  the  9th  night  of  August, 
1792. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Forty-eight  Sections  correspond  by 
swift  messengers;  are  choosing  each  their  “three  Delegates 
with  full  powers.”  Syndic  Rcederer,  Mayor  Petion  are  sent 
for  to  the  Tuileries  :  courageous  Legislators,  when  the  drum 
beats  danger,  should  repair  to  their  Salle.  Demoiselle  Th^- 
roigne  has  on  her  grenadier-bonnet,  short-skirted  riding-habit ; 
two  pistols  garnish  her  small  waist,  and  sabre  hangs  in  baldric 
by  her  side. 

Such  a  game  is  playing  in  this  Paris  Pandemonium,  or  City 
of  All  the  Devils !  —  And  yet  the  Night,  as  Mayor  Petion 
walks  here  in  the  Tuileries  Garden,  “  is  beautiful  and  calm ;  ” 
Orion  and  the  Pleiades  glitter  down  quite  serene.  Petion  has 
come  forth,  the  “  heat  ”  inside  was  so  oppressive.1  Indeed, 
his  Majesty’s  reception  of  him  was  of  the  roughest ;  as  it 
well  might  be.  And  now  there  is  no  outgate ;  Mandat’s  blue 
Squadrons  turn  you  back  at  every  Grate  ;  nay  the  Filles-Saint- 
Thomas  Grenadiers  give  themselves  liberties  of  tongue,  How 
a  virtuous  Mayor  “  shall  pay  for  it,  if  there  be  mischief,”  and 
the  like ;  though  others  again  are  full  of  civility.  Surely  if 
any  man  in  France  is  in  straits  this  night,  it  is  Mayor  Petion : 
bound,  under  pain  of  death,  one  may  say,  to  smile  dexterously 
with  the  one  side  of  his  face,  and  weep  with  the  other;  — 
death  if  he  do  it  not  dexterously  enough  !  Not  till  four  in 
the  morning  does  a  National  Assembly,  hearing  of  his  plight, 
summon  him  over  “  to  give  account  of  Paris ;  ”  of  which  he 

1  Rcederer,  Chronique  de  Cinquante  Jours  ;  Rdcit  de  Potion ;  Town-hall  Records, 
&c.  (in  [list.  Pari.  xvi.  399-466). 


Chap.  VI.  THE  STEEPLES  AT  MIDNIGHT.  137 

August  9. 

knows  nothing :  whereby,  however,  he  shall  get  home  to  bed, 
and  only  his  gilt  coach  be  left.  Scarcely  less  delicate  is  Syn¬ 
dic  Roederer’s  task  ;  who  must  wait,  whether  he  will  lament  or 
not,  till  he  see  the  issue.  Janus  Bifrons,  or  Mr.  Facing-both- 
wciys,  as  vernacular  Bunyan  has  it !  They  walk  there,  in  the 
meanwhile,  these  two  Januses,  with  others  of  the  like  double 
conformation ;  and  “  talk  of  indifferent  matters.”  # 

Roederer,  from  time  to  time,  steps  in ;  to  listen,  to  speak ; 
to  send  for  the  Department  Directory  itself,  he  their  Procu- 
reur  Syndic  not  seeing  how  to  act.  The  Apartments  are  all 
crowded;  some  seven  hundred  gentlemen  in  black  elbowing, 
bustling  ;  red  Swiss  standing  like  rocks  ;  ghost,  or  partial 
ghost  of  a  Ministry,  with  Roederer  and  advisers,  hovering 
round  their  Majesties  ;  old  Marshal  Maille  kneeling  at  the 
King’s  feet  to  say,  He  and  these  gallant  gentlemen  are  come 
to  die  for  him.  List !  through  the  placid  midnight ;  clang  of 
the  distant  storm-bell !  So,  in  very  sooth :  steeple  after  steeple 
takes  up  the  wondrous  tale.  Black  Courtiers  listen  at  the 
windows,  opened  for  air  ;  discriminate  the  steeple-bells  : 1  this 
is  the  tocsin  of  Saint-Roch;  that  again,  is  it  not  Saint- Jacques, 
named  de  la  Boucherie  ?  Yes,  Messieurs  !  Or  even  Saint- 
Germain  l’Auxerrois,  hear  ye  it  not  ?  The  same  metal  that 
rang  storm,  two  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago  ;  but  by  a 
Majesty’s  order  then ;  on  Saint  Bartholomew’s  Eve  !2 —  So  go 
the  steeple-bells;  which  Courtiers  can  discriminate.  Nay,  me- 
seems,  there  is  the  Town-hall  itself ;  we  know  it  by  its  sound ! 
Yes,  Friends,  that  is  the  Town-hall  ;  discoursing  so,  to  the 
Night.  Miraculously ;  by  miraculous  metal-tongue  and  man’s- 
arm :  Marat  himself,  if  you  knew  it,  is  pulling  at  the  rope 
there  !  Marat  is  pulling ;  Robespierre  lies  deep,  invisible  for 
the  next  forty  hours ;  and  some  men  have  heart,  and  some 
have  as  good  as  none,  and  not  even  frenzy  wrill  give  them  any. 

What  struggling  confusion,  as  the  issue  slowly  draws  on ; 
and  the  doubtful  Hour,  with  pain  and  blind  struggle,  brings 
forth  its  Certainty,  never  to  be  abolished !  —  The  Full-power 
Delegates,  three  from  each  Section,  a  hundred  and  forty-four 
in  all,  got  gathered  at  the  Town-hall,  about  midnight.  Man- 
1  Roederer,  ubi  supra.  2  24th  August,  1572. 


138  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIH. 

1792. 

dat’s  Squadron,  stationed  there,  did  not  hinder  their  entering  : 
are  they  not  the  “  Central  Committee  of  the  Sections  ”  who  sit 
here  usually  ;  though  in  greater  number  to-night  ?  They  are 
there  :  presided  by  Confusion,  Irresolution,  and  the  Clack  of 
Tongues.  Swift  scouts  fly ;  Rumor  buzzes,  of  black  Courtiers, 
red  Swiss,  of  Mandat  and  his  Squadrons  that  shall  charge, 
fetter  put  off  the  Insurrection  ?  Yes,  put  it  off.  Ha,  hark  ! 
Saint- Antoine  booming  out  eloquent  tocsin,  of  its  own  accord ! 
—  Friends,  no  :  ye  cannot  put  off  the  Insurrection ;  but  must 
put  it  on,  and  live  with  it,  or  die  with  it. 

Swift  now,  therefore :  let  these  actual  Old  Municipals,  on 
sight  of  the  Full-powers,  and  mandate  of  the  Sovereign  elec¬ 
tive  People,  lay  down  their  functions  ;  and  this  New  Hundred 
and  Forty -four  take  them  up  !  Will  ye  nill  ye,  worthy  Old 
Municipals,  go  ye  must.  Nay  is  it  not  a  happiness  for  many 
a  Municipal  that  he  can  wash  his  hands  of  such  a  business ; 
and  sit  there  paralyzed,  unaccountable,  till  the  hour  do  bring 
forth ;  or  even  go  home  to  his  night’s  rest ! 1  Two  only  of 
the  Old,  or  at  most  three,  we  retain :  Mayor  Petion,  for  the 
present  walking  in  the  Tuileries ;  Procureur  Manuel ;  Procu- 
reur-Substitute  Hanton,  invisible  Atlas  of  the  whole.  And  so, 
with  our  Hundred  and  Forty-four,  among  whom  are  a  Tocsin- 
Huguenin,  a  Billaud,  a  Chaumette ;  and  Editor-Talliens,  and 
Fabre  d’Eglantines,  Sergents,  Panises  ;  and  in  brief,  either 
emergent  or  else  emerged  and  full-blown,  the  entire  Flower  of 
unlimited  Patriotism  :  have  we  not,  as  by  magic,  made  a  New 
Municipality ;  ready  to  act  in  the  unlimited  manner ;  and  de¬ 
clare  itself  roundly,  “  in  a  state  of  Insurrection !  ”  —  First  of 
all,  then,  be  Commandant  Mandat  sent  for,  with  that  Mayor’s 
Order  of  his  ;  also  let  the  New  Municipals  visit  those  Squad¬ 
rons  that  were  to  charge  ;  and  let  the  storm-bell  ring  its  loud¬ 
est  ;  —  and,  on  the  whole,  Forward,  ye  Hundred  and  Forty-four ; 
retreat  is  now  none  for  you  ! 

Reader,  fancy  not,  in  thy  languid  way,  that  Insurrection  is 
easy.  Insurrection  is  difficult :  each  individual  uncertain  even 
of  his  next  neighbor ;  totally  uncertain  of  his  distant  neigh¬ 
bors,  what  strength  is  with  him,  what  strength  is  against  him ; 

1  Section  Documents,  Town-hall  Documents  (Hist.  Pari,  ubi  supra). 


139 


Chap-  VI.  THE  STEEPLES  AT  MIDNIGHT. 

August  9. 

certain  only  that,  in  case  of  failure,  his  individual  portion  is 
the  gallows  !  Eight  hundred  thousand  heads,  and  in  each  of 
them  a  separate  estimate  of  these  uncertainties,  a  separate 
theorem  of  action  conformable  to  that :  out  of  so  many  uncer¬ 
tainties,  does  the  certainty,  and  inevitable  net-result  never  to 
be  abolished,  go  on,  at  all  moments,  bodying  itself  forth ;  — 
leading  thee  also  towards  civic  crowns  or  an  ignominious 
noose. 

Could  the  Reader  take  an  Asmodeus’  Plight,  and  waving 
open  all  roofs  and  privacies,  look  down  from  the  Tower  of 
Notre-Dame,  what  a  Paris  were  it !  Of  treble-voice  whimperings 
or  vehemence,  of  bass-voice  growlings,  dubitations  ;  Courage 
screwing  itself  to  desperate  defiance  ;  Cowardice  trembling 
silent  within  barred  doors ;  —  and  all  round,  Dulness  calmly 
snoring ;  for  much  Dulness,  flung  on  its  mattresses,  always 
sleeps.  Oh,  between  the  clangor  of  these  high-storming  tocsins 
and  that  snore  of  Dulness,  what  a  gamut  :  of  trepidation, 
excitation,  desperation  ;  and  above  it  mere  Doubt,  Danger, 
Atropos  and  Nox  ! 

Fighters  of  this  Section  draw  out ;  hear  that  the  next  Sec¬ 
tion  does  not ;  and  thereupon  draw  in.  Saint- Antoine,  on  this 
side  the  River,  is  uncertain  of  Saint-Marceau  on  that.  Steady 
only  is  the  snore  of  Dulness,  are  the  six  hundred  Marseillese 
that  know  how  to  die.  Mandat,  twice  summoned  to  the  Town- 
hall,  has  not  come.  Scouts  fly  incessant,  in  distracted  haste  ; 
and  the  many-whispering  voices  of  Rumor.  Theroigne  and 
unofficial  Patriots  flit,  dim-visible,  exploratory,  far  and  wide  : 
like  Night-birds  on  the  wing.  Of  Nationals  some  three  thou¬ 
sand  have  followed  Mandat  and  his  generale  ;  the  rest  follow 
each  his  own  theorem  of  the  uncertainties :  theorem,  that  one 
should  march  rather  with  Saint- Antoine :  innumerable  theo¬ 
rems,  that  in  such  a  case  the  wholesomest  were  sleep.  And  so 
the  drums  beat,  in  mad  fits,  and  the  storm-bells  peal.  Saint- 
Antoine  itself  does  but  draw  out  and  draw  in  :  Commandant 
Santerre,  over  there,  cannot  believe  that  the  Marseillese  and 
Saint-Marceau  will  march.  Thou  laggard  sonorous  Beervat, 
with  the  loud  voice  and  timber-head,  is  it  time  now  to  pal¬ 
ter  ?  Alsacian  Westermann  clutches  him  by  the  throat  with 


140 


THE  MARSEILLESE. 


Book  XIII. 
1792. 

drawn  sabre  :  wdiereupon  the  Timber-headed  believes.  In  this 
manner  wanes  the  slow  night  ;  amid  fret,  uncertainty  and 
tocsin  ;  all  men’s  humor  rising  to  the  hysterical  pitch ;  and 
nothing  done. 

However,  Mandat,  on  the  third  summons,  does  come  ;  — 
come,  unguarded  ;  astonished  to  find  the  Municipality  new. 
They  question  him  straitly  on  that  Mayor’s  Order  to  resist 
force  by  force  ;  on  that  strategic  scheme  of  cutting  Saint- 
Antoine  in  two  halves:  he  answers  what  he  can:  they  think 
it  were  right  to  send  this  strategic  National  Commandant  to 
the  Abbaye  Prison,  and  let  a  Court  of  Law  decide  on  him. 
Alas,  a  Court  of  Law,  not  Book-Law  but  primeval  Club-Law, 
crowds  and  jostles  out  of  doors ;  all  fretted  to  the  hysterical 
pitch ;  cruel  as  Pear,  blind  as  the  Night :  such  Court  of  Law, 
and  no  other,  clutches  poor  Mandat  from  his  constables  ;  beats 
him  down,  massacres  him,  on  the  steps  of  the  Town-hall.  Look 
to  it,  ye  new  Municipals  ;  ye  People,  in  a  state  of  Insurrection ! 
Blood  is  shed,  blood  must  be  answered  for ;  —  alas,  in  such 
hysterical  humor,  more  blood  will  flow :  for  it  is  as  with  the 
Tiger  in  that :  he  has  only  to  begin. 

Seventeen  Individuals  have  been  seized  in  the  Champs 
Elysees,  by  exploratory  Patriotism  ;  they  flitting  dim-visible, 
by  it  flitting  dim-visible.  Ye  have  pistols,  rapiers,  ye  Seven¬ 
teen  ?  One  of  those  accursed  “  false  Patrols  ;  ”  that  go  ma¬ 
rauding,  with  Anti-National  intent;  seeking  what  they  can 
spy,  what  they  can  spill !  The  Seventeen  are  carried  to  the 
nearest  Guard-house  ;  eleven  of  them  escape  by  back  passages. 
“  How  is  this  ?  ”  Demoiselle  Theroigne  appears  at  the  front 
entrance,  with  sabre,  pistols  and  a  train ;  denounces  treason¬ 
ous  connivance ;  demands,  seizes,  the  remaining  six,  that  the 
justice  of  the  People  be  not  trifled  with.  Of  which  six  two 
more  escape  in  the  whirl  and  debate  of  the  Club-Law  Court ; 
the  last  unhappy  Pour  are  massacred,  as  Mandat  was  :  Two 
Ex-Body-guards  ;  one  dissipated  Abbe  ;  one  Loyalist  Pam¬ 
phleteer,  Sulleau,  known  to  us  by  name,  Able  Editor  and  wit 
of  all  work.  Poor  Sulleau  :  his  Acts  of  the  Apostles ,  and  brisk 
Placard- Journals  (for  he  was  an  able  man)  come  to  Finis ,  in 
this  manner ;  and  questionable  jesting  issues  suddenly  in  hor- 


Chap.  VI.  THE  STEEPLES  AT  MIDNIGHT.  141 

August  10. 

rid  earnest !  Such  doings  usher  in  the  dawn  of  the  Tenth  of 
August,  1792. 

Or  think  what  a  night  the  poor  National  Assembly  has  had : 
sitting  there,  “  in  great  paucity,”  attempting  to  debate ;  — 
quivering  and  shivering ;  pointing  towards  all  the  thirty-two 
azimuths  at  once,  as  the  magnet-needle  does  when  thunder¬ 
storm  is  in  the  air !  If  the  Insurrection  come  ?  If  it  come, 
and  fail  ?  Alas,  in  that  case,  may  not  black  Courtiers  with 
blunderbusses,  red  Swiss  with  bayonets  rush  over,  flushed  with 
victory,  and  ask  us :  Thou  undefinable,  water-logged,  self- 
distractive,  self-destructive  Legislative,  what  dost  thou  here 
unsunk? — Or  figure  the  poor  National  Guards,  bivouacking  in 
“  temporary  tents  ”  there ;  or  standing  ranked,  shifting  from 
leg  to  leg,  all  through  the  weary  night  ;  New  tricolor  Munici¬ 
pals  ordering  one  thing,  old  Mandat  Captains  ordering  another. 
Procureur  Manuel  has  ordered  the  cannons  to  be  withdrawn 
from  the  Pont-Neuf ;  none  ventured  to  disobey  him.  It  seems 
certain,  then,  the  old  Staff,  so  long  doomed,  has  finally  been 
dissolved,  in  these  hours ;  and  Mandat  is  not  our  Commandant 
now,  but  Santerre  ?  Yes,  friends :  Santerre  henceforth,  — 
surely  Mandat  no  more  !  The  Squadrons  that  were  to  charge 
see  nothing  certain,  except  that  they  are  cold,  hungry,  worn 
down  with  watching  ;  that  it  were  sad  to  slay  French  brothers  ; 
sadder  to  be  slain  by  them.  Without  the  Tuileries  Circuit, 
and  within  it,  sour  uncertain  humor  sways  these  men :  only 
the  red  Swiss  stand  steadfast.  Them  their  officers  refresh  now 
with  a  slight  wetting  of  brandy ;  wherein  the  Nationals,  too 
far  gone  for  brandy,  Tefuse  to  participate. 

King  Louis  meanwhile  had  laid  him  down  for  a  little  sleep ; 
his  wig  when  he  reappeared  had  lost  the  powder  on  one  side.1 
Old  Marshal  Maille  and  the  gentlemen  in  black  rise  always  in 
spirits,  as  the  Insurrection  does  not  rise  :  there  goes  a  witty 
saying  now,  “  Le  tocsin  ne  rend  pas,”  The  tocsin,  like  a  dry 
milk-cow,  does  not  yield.  For  the  rest,  could  not  one  proclaim 
Martial  Law  ?  Not  easily ;  for  now,  it  seems,  Mayor  Petion 
is  gone.  On  the  other  hand,  our  Interim  Commandant,  poor 

1  Rcederer,  ubi  suprk. 


142  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

Mandat  being  off  “to  the  Hotel-de-Ville,”  complains  that  so 
many  Courtiers  in  black  encumber  the  service,  are  an  eye- 
sorrow  to  the  National  Guards.  To  which  her  Majesty  an¬ 
swers  with  emphasis,  That  they  will  obey  all,  will  suffer  all, 
that  they  are  sure  men  these. 

And  so  the  yellow  lamplight  dies  out  in  the  gray  of  morn¬ 
ing,  in  the  King’s  Palace,  over  such  a  scene.  Scene  of  jost¬ 
ling,  elbowing,  of  confusion,  and  indeed  conclusion,  for  the 
thing  is  about  to  end.  Roederer  and  spectral  Ministers  jostle 
in  the  press  :  consult,  in  side-cabinets,  with  one  or  with  both 
Majesties.  Sister  Elizabeth  takes  the  Queen  to  the  window  : 
“Sister,  see  what  a  beautiful  sunrise,”  right  over  the  Jacobins 
Church  and  that  quarter  !  How  happy  if  the  tocsin  did  not 
yield !  But  Mandat  returns  not ;  Potion  is  gone  :  much  hangs 
wavering  in  the  invisible  Balance.  About  five  o’clock,  there 
rises  from  the  Garden  a  kind  of  sound ;  as  of  a  shout  which 
had  become  a  howl,  and  instead  of  Vive  le  Roi  were  ending  in 
Vive  la  Nation.  “  Mon  Dieu  /”  ejaculates  a  spectral  Minister, 
“what  is  he  doing  down  there?”  For  it  is  his  Majesty,  gone 
down  with  old  Marshal  Maille  to  review  the  troops  ;  and  the 
nearest  companies  of  them  answer  so.  Her  Majesty  bursts 
into  a  stream  of  tears.  Yet  on  stepping  from  the  cabinet,  her 
eyes  are  dry  and  calm,  her  look  is  even  cheerful.  “  The  Aus¬ 
trian  lip,  and  the  aquiline  nose,  fuller  than  usual,  gave  to  her 
countenance,”  says  Peltier,1  “  something  of  majesty,  which 
they  that  did  not  see  her  in  these  moments  cannot  well  have 
an  idea  of.”  0  thou  Theresa’s  Daughter  ! 

King  Louis  enters,  much  blown  with  the  fatigue ;  but  for 
the  rest  with  his  old  air  of  indifference.  Of  all  hopes  now, 
surely  the  joyfulest  were,  that  the  tocsin  did  not  yield. 


1  In  Toulongeon,  ii.  241. 


Chap.  VII. 
August  10. 


THE  SWISS. 


143 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  SWISS. 

Unhappy  Friends,  the  tocsin  does  yield,  has  yielded  !  Lo 
ye,  how  with  the  first  sun-rays  its  Ocean-tide,  of  pikes  and 
fusils,  flows  glittering  from  the  far  East ;  —  immeasurable  ; 
born  of  the  Night !  They  march  there,  the  grim  host ;  Saint- 
Antoine  on  this  side  the  River;  Saint-Marceau  on  that,  the 
black-browed  Marseillese  in  the  van.  With  hum,  and  grim 
murmur,  far-heard;  like  the  Ocean-tide,  as  we  say  :  drawn  up, 
as  if  by  Luna  and  Influences,  from  the  great  Deep  of  Waters, 
they  roll  gleaming  on ;  no  King,  Canute  or  Louis,  can  bid 
them  roll  back.  Wide-eddying  side-currents,  of  on-lookers, 
roll  hither  and  thither,  unarmed,  not  voiceless  ;  they,  the  steel 
host,  roll  on.  New-Commandant  Santerre,  indeed,  has  taken 
seat  at  the  Town-hall ;  rests  there,  in  his  halfway-house. 
Alsacian  Westermann,  with  flashing  sabre,  does  not  rest;  nor 
the  Sections,  nor  the  Marseillese,  nor  Demoiselle  Theroigne  ; 
but  roll  continually  on. 

And  now,  where  are  Mandat’s  Squadrons  that  were  to 
charge  ?  Not  a  Squadron  of  them  stirs  :  or  they  stir  in  the 
wrong  direction,  out  of  the  way ;  their  officers  glad  that  they 
will  do  even  that.  It  is  to  this  hour  uncertain  whether  the 
Squadron  on  the  Pont-Neuf  made  the  shadow  of  resistance, 
or  did  not  make  the  shadow  :  enough,  the  black-browed  Mar¬ 
seillese,  and  Saint-Marceau  following  them,  do  cross  without 
let ;  do  cross,  in  sure  hope  now  of  Saint- Antoine  and  the 
rest;  do  billow  on,  towards  the  Tuileries,  where  their  errand 
is.  The  Tuileries,  at  sound  of  them,  rustles  responsive  :  the 
red  Swiss  look  to  their  priming ;  Courtiers  in  black  draw  their 
blunderbusses,  rapiers,  poniards,  some  have  even  fire-shovels  ; 
every  man  his  weapon  of  war. 


144  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

Judge  if,  in  these  circumstances,  Syndic  Roederer  felt  easy  ! 
Will  the  kind  Heavens  open  no  middle-course  of  refuge  for 
a  poor  Syndic  who  halts  between  two  ?  If  indeed  his  Maj¬ 
esty  would  consent  to  go  over  to  the  Assembly !  His  Majesty, 
above  all  her  Majesty,  cannot  agree  to  that.  Did  her  Majesty 
answer  the  proposal  with  a  “  Fi  done  ;  ”  did  she  say  even,  she 
would  be  nailed  to  the  walls  sooner  ?  Apparently  not.  It  is 
written  also  that  she  offered  the  King  a  pistol ;  saying,  Now 
or  else  never  was  the  time  to  show  himself.  Close  eye-wit¬ 
nesses  did  not  see  it,  nor  do  we.  They  saw  only  that  she  was 
queenlike,  quiet;  that  she  argued  not,  upbraided  not,  with 
the  Inexorable  ;  but,  like  Caesar  in  the  Capitol,  wrapped  her 
mantle,  as  it  beseems  Queens  and  Sons  of  Adam  to  do.  But 
thou,  0  Louis  !  of  what  stuff  art  thou  at  all  ?  Is  there  no 
stroke  in  thee,  then,  for  Life  and  Crown  ?  The  silliest  hunted 
deer  dies  not  so.  Art  thou  the  languidest  of  all  mortals ;  or 
the  mildest-minded  ?  Thou  art  the  worst-starred. 

The  tide  advances ;  Syndic  Roederer’s  and  all  men’s  straits 
grow  straiter  and  straiter.  Freinescent  clangor  comes  from 
the  armed  Nationals  in  the  Court ;  far  and  wide  is  the  infinite 
hubbub  of  tongues.  What  counsel  ?  And  the  tide  is  now 
nigh !  Messengers,  forerunners  speak  hastily  through  the 
outer  Grates ;  hold  parley  sitting  astride  the  walls.  Syndic 
Roederer  goes  out  and  comes  in.  Cannoneers  ask  him  :  Are  we 
to  fire  against  the  people  ?  King’s  Ministers  ask  him  :  Shall 
the  King’s  House  be  forced  ?  Syndic  Roederer  has  a  hard  game 
to  play.  He  speaks  to  the  Cannoneers  with  eloquence,  with 
fervor ;  such  fervor  as  a  man  can,  who  has  to  blow  hot  and 
cold  in  one  breath.  Hot  and  cold,  0  Roederer  ?  We,  for  our 
part,  cannot  live  and  die  !  The  Cannoneers,  by  way  of  answer, 
fling  down  their  linstocks.  —  Think  of  this  answer,  0  King 
Louis,  and  King’s  Ministers  ;  and  take  a  poor  Syndic’s  safe 
middle-course,  towards  the  Salle  de  Manege.  King  Louis  sits, 
his  hands  leant  on  his  knees,  body  bent  forward ;  gazes  for  a 
space  fixedly  on  Syndic  Roederer ;  then  answers,  looking  over 
his  shoulder  to  the  Queen :  Marchons !  They  march ;  King 
Louis,  Queen,  Sister  Elizabeth,  the  two  royal  children  and 
governess  :  these,  with  Syndic  Roederer,  and  Officials  of  the 


Chap.  VII.  THE  SWISS.  145 

August  10.  • 

Department  ;  amid  a  double  rank  of  National  Guards.  The 
men  with  blunderbusses,  the  steady  red  Swiss  gaze  mournfully, 
reproachfully  ;  but  hear  only  these  words  from  Syndic  Roe- 
derer  :  “  The  King  is  going  to  the  Assembly  ;  make  way.”  It 
has  struck  eight,  on  all  clocks,  some  minutes  ago :  the  King 
has  left  the  Tuileries  —  forever. 

O  ye  stanch  Swiss,  ye  gallant  gentlemen  in  black,  for 
what  a  cause  are  ye  to  spend  and  be  spent !  Look  out 
from  the  western  windows,  ye  may  see  King  Louis  placidly 
hold  on  his  way;  the  poor  little  Prince  Royal  “  sportfully 
kicking  the  fallen  leaves.”  Fremescent  multitude  on  the 
Terrace  of  the  Feuillants  whirls  parallel  to  him ;  one  man  in 
it,  very  noisy,  with  a  long  pole  :  will  they  not  obstruct  the 
outer  Staircase,  and  back-entrance  of  the  Salle,  when  it  comes 
to  that  ?  King’s  Guards  can  go  no  farther  than  the  bottom 
step  there.  Lo,  Deputation  of  Legislators  come  out ;  he  of 
the  long  pole  is  stilled  by  oratory;  Assembly’s  Guards  join 
themselves  to  King’s  Guards,  and  all  may  mount  in  this  case 
of  necessity;  the  outer  Staircase  is  free,  or  passable.  See, 
Royalty  ascends ;  a  blue  Grenadier  lifts  the  poor  little  Prince 
Royal  from  the  press ;  Royalty  has  entered  in.  Royalty  has 
vanished  forever  from  your  eyes.  —  And  ye  ?  Left  standing 
there,  amid  the  yawning  abysses,  and  earthquake  of  Insurrec¬ 
tion  ;  without  course ;  without  command :  if  ye  perish,  it  must 
be  as  more  than  martyrs,  as  martyrs  who  are  now  without  a 
cause  !  The  black  Courtiers  disappear  mostly ;  through  such 
issues  as  they  can.  The  poor  Swiss  know  not  how  to  act :  one 
duty  only  is  clear  to  them,  that  of  standing  by  their  post ;  and 
they  will  perform  that. 

But  the  glittering  steel  tide  has  arrived ;  it  beats  now 
against  the  Chateau  barriers  and  eastern  Courts ;  irresistible, 
loud-surging  far  and  wide ;  —  breaks  in,  fills  the  Court  of  the 
Carrousel,  black-browed  Marseillese  in  the  van.  King  Louis 
gone,  say  you;  over  to  the  Assembly!  Well  and  good:  but 
till  the  Assembly  pronounce  Forfeiture  of  him,  what  boots 
It  ?  Our  post  is  in  that  Chateau  or  stronghold  of  his ;  there 
till  then  must  we  continue.  Think,  ye  stanch  Swiss,  whether 
it  were  good  that  grim  murder  began,  and  brothers  blasted 
VOL.  iv.  10 


146  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

one  another  in  pieces  for  a  stone  edifice  ?  —  Poor  Swiss  !  they 
know  not  how  to  act :  from  the  southern  windows,  some  fling 
cartridges,  in  sign  of  brotherhood  ;  on  the  eastern  outer  stair¬ 
case,  and  within  through  long  stairs  and  corridors,  they  stand 
firm-ranked,  peaceable  and  yet  refusing  to  stir.  Westermann 
speaks  to  them  in  Alsacian  German ;  Marseillese  plead,  in  hot 
Provencal  speech  and  pantomime  ;  stunning  hubbub  pleads 
and  threatens,  infinite,  around.  The  Swiss  stand  fast,  peace¬ 
able  and  yet  immovable  ;  red  granite  pier  in  that  waste-flashing 
sea  of  steel. 

Who  can  help  the  inevitable  issue  ;  Marseillese  and  all 
France  on  this  side  ;  granite  Swiss  on  that  ?  The  pantomime 
grows  hotter  and  hotter ;  Marseillese  sabres  flourishing  by 
way  of  action ;  the  Swiss  brow  also  clouding  itself,  the  Swiss 
thumb  bringing  its  firelock  to  the  cock.  And  hark  !  high 
thundering  above  all  the  din,  three  Marseillese  cannon  from 
the  Carrousel,  pointed  by  a  gunner  of  bad  aim,  come  rattling 
over  the  roofs  !  Ye  Swiss,  therefore:  Fire!  The  Swiss  fire; 
by  volley,  by  platoon,  in  rolling-fire :  Marseillese  men  not  a 
few,  and  u  a  tall  man  that  was  louder  than  any,”  lie  silent, 
smashed  upon  the  pavement ;  —  not  a  few  Marseillese,  after 
the  long  dusty  march,  have  made  halt  here.  The  Carrousel  is 
void ;  the  black  tide  recoiling ;  “  fugitives  rushing  as  far  as 
Saint-Antoine  before  they  stop.”  The  Cannoneers  without 
linstock  have  squatted  invisible,  and  left  their  cannon ;  which 
the  Swiss  seize. 

Think  what  a  volley :  reverberating  doomful  to  the  four 
corners  of  Paris,  and  through  all  hearts  ;  like  the  clang  of 
Bellona’s  thongs  !  The  black-browed  Marseillese,  rallying  on 
the  instant,  have  become  black  Demons  that  know  how  to 
die.  Nor  is  Brest  behindhand  ;  nor  Alsacian  Westermann ; 
Demoiselle  Theroigne  is  Sibyl  Theroigne :  Vengeance,  Vie- 
toire  on  la  mort !  From  all  Patriot  artillery,  great  and  small ; 
from  Feuillants  Terrace,  and  all  terraces  and  places  of  the 
wide-spread  Insurrectionary  sea,  there  roars  responsive  a  red 
blazing  whirlwind.  Blue  Nationals,  ranked  in  the  Garden, 
cannot  help  their  muskets  going  off,  against  Foreign  mur¬ 
derers.  For  there  is  a  sympathy  in  muskets,  in  heaped 


THE  SWISS. 


147 


Chap.  VII. 

August  10. 

masses  of  men :  nay,  are  not  Mankind,  in  whole,  like  tuned 
strings,  and  a  cunning  infinite  concordance  and  unity ;  you 
smite  one  string,  and  all  strings  will  begin  sounding,  —  in  soft 
sphere-melody,  in  deafening  screech  of  madness !  Mounted 
Gendarmerie  gallop  distracted  ;  are  fired  on  merely  as  a  thing 
running;  galloping  over  the  Pont  Royal,  or  one  knows  not 
whither.  The  brain  of  Paris,  brain-fevered  in  the  centre  of 
it  here,  has  gone  mad  ;  what  you  call,  taken  fire. 

Behold,  the  fire  slackens  not ;  nor  does  the  Swiss  rolling- 
fire  slacken  from  within.  Nay  they  clutched  cannon,  as  we 
saw;  and  now,  from  the  other  side,  they  clutch  three  pieces 
more ;  alas,  cannon  without  linstock ;  nor  will  the  steel- 
and-flint  answer,  though  they  try  it.1  Had  it  chanced  to 
answer !  Patriot  on-lookers  have  their  misgivings ;  one 
strangest  Patriot  on-looker  thinks  that  the  Swiss,  had  they 
a  commander,  would  beat.  He  is  a  man  not  unqualified  to 
judge ;  the  name  of  him  Napoleon  Buonaparte.2  And  on¬ 
lookers,  and  women,  stand  gazing,  and  the  witty  Dr.  Moore 
of  Glasgow  among  them,  on  the  other  side  of  the  River : 
cannon  rush  rumbling  past  them  ;  pause  on  the  Pont  Royal ; 
belch  out  their  iron  entrails  there,  against  the  Tuileries  ;  and 
at  every  new  belch,  the  women  and  on-lookers  “  shout  and 
clap  hands.”  3  City  of  all  the  Devils !  In  remote  streets, 
men  are  drinking  breakfast-coffee  ;  following  their  affairs  ; 
with  a  start  now  and  then,  as  some  dull  echo  reverberates 
a  note  louder.  And  here  ?  Marseillese  fall  wounded ;  but 
Barbaroux  has  surgeons ;  Barbaroux  is  close  by,  managing, 
though  underhand  and  under  cover.  Marseillese  fall  death- 
struck  ;  bequeath  their  firelock,  specify  in  which  pocket  are 
the  cartridges  ;  and  die  murmuring,  “  Revenge  me,  Revenge 
thy  country  !  ”  Brest  Federe  Officers,  galloping  in  red  coats, 
are  shot  as  Swiss.  Lo  you,  the  Carrousel  has  burst  into 
flame!  —  Paris  Pandemonium!  Nay  the  poor  City,  as  we 
said,  is  in  fever-fit  and  convulsion :  such  crisis  has  lasted  for 
the  space  of  some  half-hour. 

1  Deux  Amis,  viii.  179-188. 

2  See  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  56 ;  Las  Cases,  &c. 

8  Moore,  Journal  during  a  Residence  in  France  (Dublin,  1793),  i.  26. 


148  THE  MARSEILLESE.  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

But  what  is  this  that,  with  Legislative  Insignia,  ventures 
through  the  hubbub  and  death-hail,  from  the  back-entrance 
of  the  Manege  ?  Towards  the  Tuileries  and  Swiss :  written 
Order  from  his  Majesty  to  cease  firing !  0  ye  hapless  Swiss, 

why  was  there  no  order  not  to  begin  it  ?  Gladly  would  the 
Swiss  cease  firing :  but  who  will  bid  mad  Insurrection  cease 
firing  ?  To  Insurrection  you  cannot  speak ;  neither  can  it, 
hydra-headed,  hear.  The  dead  and  dying,  by  the  hundred, 
lie  all  around ;  are  borne  bleeding  through  the  streets,  towards 
help ;  the  sight  of  them,  like  a  torch  of  the  Euries,  kindling 
Madness.  Patriot  Paris  roars ;  as  the  bear  bereaved  of  her 
whelps.  On,  ye  Patriots:  Vengeance!  Victory  or  death! 
There  are  men  seen,  who  rush  on,  armed  only  with  walking- 
sticks.1  Terror  and  Fury  rule  the  hour. 

The  Swiss,  pressed  on  from  without,  paralyzed  from  within, 
have  ceased  to  shoot;  but  not  to  be  shot.  What  shall  they 
do  ?  Desperate  is  the  moment.  Shelter  or  instant  death :  yet 
How,  Where  ?  One  party  flies  out  by  the  Rue  de  l’Echelle ; 
is  destroyed  utterly,  “  en  entier A  second,  by  the  other  side, 
throws  itself  into  the  Garden ;  “  hurrying  across  a  keen  fusil¬ 
lade  ;  ”  rushes  suppliant  into  the  National  Assembly ;  finds 
pity  and  refuge  in  the  back  benches  there.  The  third,  and 
largest,  darts  out  in  column,  three  hundred  strong,  towards 
the  Champs  Elysees  :  “  Ah,  could  we  but  reach  Courbevoye, 
where  other  Swiss  are  !  ”  Woe  !  see,  in  such  fusillade  the 
column  “soon  breaks  itself  by  diversity  of  opinion,”  into  dis¬ 
tracted  segments,  this  way  and  that; — to  escape  in  holes,  to 
die  fighting  from  street  to  street.  The  firing  and  murdering 
will  not  cease ;  nor  yet  for  long.  The  red  Porters  of  Hotels 
are  shot  at,  be  they  Suisse  by  nature,  or  Suisse  only  in  name. 
The  very  Firemen,  who  pump  and  labor  on  that  smoking 
Carrousel,  are  shot  at :  why  should  the  Carrousel  not  burn  ? 
Some  Swiss  take  refuge  in  private  houses ;  find  that  mercy  too 
does  still  dwell  in  the  heart  of  man.  The  brave  Marseillese 
are  merciful,  late  so  wroth;  and  labor  to  save.  Journalist 
Gorsas  pleads  hard  with  infuriated  groups.  Clemence,  the 

1  Hist.  Pari,  ubi  supra.  Rapport  du  Capitaine  des  Canonniers,  Rapport  du 
Commandant ,  &c.  (Ibid.  xvii.  300-318). 


Chap.  VII.  THE  SWISS.  149 

August  10. 

Wine- merchant,  stumbles  forward  to  the  Bar  of  the  Assembly, 
a  rescued  Swiss  in  his  hand  ;  tells  passionately  how  he  rescued 
him  with  pain  and  peril,  how  he  will  henceforth  support  him, 
being  childless  himself ;  and  falls  a-swoon  round  the  poor 
Swiss’s  neck ;  amid  plaudits.  But  the  most  are  butchered, 
and  even  mangled.  Fifty  (some  say  fourscore)  were  marched 
as  prisoners,  by  National  Guards,  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville :  the 
ferocious  people  bursts  through  on  them,  in  the  Place-de- 
Greve ;  massacres  them  to  the  last  man.  “  0  JPeuple ,  envy 
of  the  universe !  ”  Peuple,  in  mad  Gaelic  effervescence  ! 

Surely  few  things  in  the  history  of  carnage  are  painfuler. 
What  ineffaceable  red  streak,  flickering  so  sad  in  the  memory, 
is  that,  of  this  poor  column  of  red  Swiss  “  breaking  itself  in 
the  confusion  of  opinions  ;  ”  dispersing,  into  blackness  and 
death !  Honor  to  you,  brave  men ;  honorable  pity,  through 
long  times  !  Not  martyrs  were  ye ;  and  yet  almost  more. 
He  was  no  King  of  yours,  this  Louis;  and  he  forsook  you 
like  a  King  of  shreds  and  patches :  ye  were  but  sold  to  him 
for  some  poor  sixpence  a  day ;  yet  would  ye  work  for  your 
wages,  keep  your  plighted  word.  The  work  now  was  to  die ; 
and  ye  did  it.  Honor  to  you,  0  Kinsmen ;  and  may  the  old 
Deutsch  Biederkeit  and  Tapferkeit ,  and  Valor  which  is  Worth, 
and  Truth ,  be  they  Swiss,  be  they  Saxon,  fail  in  no  age  !  Not 
bastards  ;  true-born  were  these  men  :  sons  of  the  men  of  Sem- 
pach,  of  Murten,  who  knelt,  but  not  to  thee,  0  Burgundy !  — 
Let  the  traveller,  as  he  passes  through  Lucerne,  turn  aside  to 
look  a  little  at  their  monumental  Lion ;  not  for  Thorwaldsen’s 
sake  alone.  Hewn  out  of  living  rock,  the  Figure  rests  there, 
by  the  still  Lake-waters,  in  lullaby  of  distant-tinkling  rance- 
des-vaches,  the  granite  Mountains  dumbly  keeping  watch  all 
round ;  and,  though  inanimate,  speaks. 


150 


THE  MARSEILLESE. 


Book  XIII. 
i7ya. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CONSTITUTION  BURST  IN  PIECES. 

Thus  is  the  Tenth  of  August  won  and  lost.  Patriotism 
reckons  its  slain  by  the  thousand  on  thousand,  so  deadly  was 
the  Swiss  fire  from  these  windows  ;  but  will  finally  reduce 
them  to  some  twelve  hundred.  No  child’s  play  was  it;  — 
nor  is  it !  Till  two  in  the  afternoon  the  massacring,  the 
breaking  and  the  burning  has  not  ended ;  nor  the  loose  Bed¬ 
lam  shut  itself  again. 

How  deluges  of  frantic  Sansculottism  roared  through  all 
passages  of  this  Tuileries,  ruthless  in  vengeance ;  how  the 
Valets  were  butchered,  hewn  down ;  and  Dame  Campan  saw 
the  Marseillese  sabre  flash  over  her  head,  but  the  Black- 
browed  said,  “  Va-t-en,  Get  thee  gone,”  and  flung  her  from 
him  unstruck ; 1  how  in  the  cellars  wine-bottles  were  broken, 
wine-butts  were  staved  in  and  drunk ;  and,  upwards  to  the 
very  garrets,  all  windows  tumbled  out  their  precious  royal 
furnitures:  and,  with  gold  mirrors,  velvet  curtains,* down  of 
ript  feather-beds,  and  dead  bodies  of  men,  the  Tuileries  was 
like  no  Garden  of  the  Earth :  —  all  this  let  him  who  has  a 
taste  for  it  see  amply  in  Mercier,  in  acrid  Montgaillard,  or 
Beaulieu  of  the  Deux  Amis.  A  hundred  and  eighty  bodies  of 
Swiss  lie  piled  there ;  naked,  unremoved  till  the  second  day. 
Patriotism  has  torn  their  red  coats  into  snips ;  and  marches 
with  them  at  the  Pike’s  point :  the  ghastly  bare  corpses  lie 
there,  under  the  sun  and  under  the  stars ;  the  curious  of  both 
sexes  crowding  to  look.  Which  let  not  us  do.  Above  a  hun¬ 
dred  carts,  heaped  with  Dead,  fare  towards  the  Cemetery 
of  Sainte-Madeleine ;  bewailed,  bewept ;  for  all  had  kindred, 
all  had  mothers,  if  not  here,  then  there.  It  is  one  of  those 

1  Campan,  ii.  c.  21. 


151 


Chap.  VIII.  CONSTITUTION  B  JIIST  IN  PIECES. 

August  10. 

Carnage-fields,  such  as  you  read  of  by  the  name  “  Glorious 
Victory/’  brought  home  in  this  case  to  one’s  own  door. 

But  the  black-browed  Marseillese  have  struck  down  the 
tyrant  of  the  Chateau.  He  is  struck  down ;  low,  and  hardly 
again  to  rise.  What  a  moment  for  an  august  Legislative  was 
that  when  the  Hereditary  Representative  entered,  under  such 
circumstances ;  and  the  Grenadier,  carrying  the  little  Prince 
Royal  out  of  the  press,  set  him  down  on  the  Assembly-table ! 
A  moment,  —  which  one  had  to  smooth  off  with  oratory ; 
waiting  what  the  next  would  bring !  Louis  said  few  words  : 
“  He  was  come  hither  to  prevent  a  great  crime  ;  he  believed 
himself  safer  nowhere  than  here.”  President  Vergniaud  an¬ 
swered  briefly,  in  vague  oratory  as  we  say,  about  “  defence  of 
Constituted  Authorities,”  about  dying  at  our  post.1  And  so 
King  Louis  sat  him  down :  first  here,  then  there ;  for  a  diffi¬ 
culty  arose,  the  Constitution  not  permitting  us  to  debate 
while  the  King  is  present :  finally  he  settles  himself  with  his 
Family  in  the  “  Log e  of  the  Logograplie ,”  in  the  Reporter’s- 
Box  of  a  Journalist :  which  is  beyond  the  enchanted  Constitu¬ 
tional  Circuit,  separated  from  it  by  a  rail.  To  such  Lodge  of 
the  Logograplie ,  measuring  some  ten  feet  square,  with  a  small 
closet  at  the  entrance  of  it  behind,  is  the  King  of  broad 
France  now  limited :  here  can  he  and  his  sit  pent,  under  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  or  retire  into  their  closet  at  intervals ;  for 
the  space  of  sixteen  hours.  Such  quite  peculiar  moment  has 
the  Legislative  lived  to  see. 

But  also  what  a  moment  was  that  other,  few  minutes  later, 
when  the  three  Marseillese  cannon  went  off,  and  the  Swiss  roll¬ 
ing  fire  and  universal  thunder,  like  the  crack  of  Doom,  began  to 
rattle  !  Honorable  Members  start  to  their  feet ;  stray  bullets 
singing  epicedium  even  here,  shivering  in  with  window-glass 
and  jingle.  “No,  this  is  our  post;  let  us  die  here!”  They 
sit  therefore,  like  stone  Legislators.  But  may  not  the  Loge  of 
the  Logograplie  be  forced  from  behind  ?  Tear  down  the  rail¬ 
ing  that  divides  it  from  the  enchanted  Constitutional  Circuit ! 
Ushers  tear  and  tug  ;  his  Majesty  himself  aiding  from  within : 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  10  A  out,  1792. 


152 


THE  MARSEILLESE. 


Book  XIII. 

m2. 

the  railing  gives  way ;  Majesty  and  Legislative  are  united  in 
place,  unknown  Destiny  hovering  over  both. 

Rattle,  and  again  rattle,  went  the  thunder;  one  breathless 
wide-eyed  messenger  rushing  in  after  another :  King’s  order 
to  the  Swiss  went  out.  It  was  a  fearful  thunder ;  but,  as  we 
know,  it  ended.  Breathless  messengers,  fugitive  Swiss,  de¬ 
nunciatory  Patriots,  trepidation  ;  finally  tripudiation  !  —  be¬ 
fore  four  o’clock  much  has  come  and  gone. 

The  New  Municipals  have  come  and  gone  ;  with  three  Flags, 
Libert e,  Egalite,  Patrie ,  and  the  clang  of  vivats.  Yergniaud, 
he  who  as  President  few  hours  ago  talked  of  dying  for  Con¬ 
stituted  Authorities,  has  moved,  as  Committee-Reporter,  that 
the  Hereditary  Representative  be  suspended  ;  that  a  National 
Convention  do  forthwith  assemble  to  say  what  farther  !  An 
able  Report ;  which  the  President  must  have  had  ready  in  his 
pocket  ?  A  President,  in  such  cases,  must  have  much  ready, 
and  yet  not  ready ;  and  Janus-like  look  before  and  after. 

King  Louis  listens  to  all :  retires  about  midnight  “  to  three 
little  rooms  on  the  upper  floor  ;  ”  till  the  Luxembourg  be 
prepared  for  him,  and  “the  safeguard  of  the  Nation.”  Safer  if 
Brunswick  were  once  here !  Or,  alas,  not  so  safe  ?  Ye  hap¬ 
less  discrowned  heads  !  Crowds  came,  next  morning,  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  them,  in  their  three  upper  rooms.  Montgaillard 
says  the  an  gust  Captives  wore  an  air  of  cheerfulness,  even  of 
gayety ;  that  the  Queen  and  Princess  Lamballe,  who  had  joined 
her  overnight,  looked  out  of  the  opened  window,  “shook 
powder  from  their  hair  on  the  people  below,  and  laughed.  ” 1 
He  is  an  acrid  distorted  man. 

Por  the  rest,  one  may  guess  that  the  Legislative,  above  all 
that  the  New  Municipality  continues  busy.  Messengers,  Mu¬ 
nicipal  or  Legislative,  and  swift  despatches  rush  off  to  all  cor¬ 
ners  of  France  ;  full  of  triumph,  blended  with  indignant  wail, 
for  Twelve  Hundred  have  fallen.  France  sends  up  its  blended 
shout  responsive  :  the  Tenth  of  August  shall  be  as  the  Four¬ 
teenth  of  July,  only  bloodier  and  greater.  The  Court  has 
conspired  ?  Poor  Court :  the  Court  has  been  vanquished ;  and 

1  Montgaillard,  ii.  135-167. 


Chap.  yin.  CONSTITUTION  BURST  IN  PIECES.  153 

August  13. 

will  have  both,  the  scath  to  bear  and  the  scorn.  How  the 
statues  of  Kings  do  now  all  fall !  Bronze  Henri  himself, 
though  he  wore  a  cockade  once,  jingles  down  from  the  Pont- 
Neuf,  where  Patrie  floats  in  Danger.  Much  more  does  Louis 
Fourteenth,  from  the  Place  Vendome,  jingle  down:  and  even 
breaks  in  falling.  The  curious  can  remark,  written  on  his 
horse’s  shoe  :  “  12  Aout,  1692 ;  ”  a  Century  and  a  Day. 

The  tenth  of  August  was  Friday.  The  week  is  not  done, 
when  our  old  Patriot  Ministry  is  recalled,  what  of  it  can  be 
got :  strict  Roland,  Genevese  Claviere ;  add  heavy  Monge  the 
Mathematician,  once  a  stone-hewer ;  and,  for  Minister  of 
Justice,  —  Danton,  “led  hither,”  as  himself  says,  in  one  of  his 
gigantic  figures,  “  through  the  breach  of  Patriot  cannon !  ” 
These,  under  Legislative  Committees,  must  rule  the  wreck 
as  they  can :  confusedly  enough ;  with  an  old  Legislative 
water-logged,  with  a  new  Municipality  so  brisk.  But  Na¬ 
tional  Convention  will  get  itself  together ;  and  then  !  With¬ 
out  delay,  however,  let  a  new  Jury-Court  and  Criminal  Tri¬ 
bunal  be  set  up  in  Paris,  to  try  the  crimes  and  conspiracies 
of  the  Tenth.  High  Court  of  Orleans  is  distant,  slow  :  the 
blood  of  the  Twelve  Hundred  Patriots,  whatever  become  of 
other  blood,  shall  be  inquired  after.  Tremble,  ye  Criminals 
and  Conspirators ;  the  Minister  of  Justice  is  Danton  !  Robes¬ 
pierre  too,  after  the  victory,  sits  in  the  New  Municipality ; 
insurrectionary  “  improvised  Municipality,”  which  calls  itself 
Council  General  of  the  Commune. 

For  three  days  now,  Louis  and  his  Family  have  heard  the 
Legislative  Debates  in  the  Lodge  of  the  Logographe  ;  and 
retired  nightly  to  their  small  upper  rooms.  The  Luxembourg 
and  safeguard  of  the  Nation  could  not  be  got  ready :  nay,  it 
seems  the  Luxembourg  has  too  many  cellars  and  issues  ;  no 
Municipality  can  undertake  to  watch  it.  The  compact  Prison 
of  the  Temple,  not  so  elegant  indeed,  were  much  safer.  To 
the  Temple,  therefore  !  On  Monday  13th  day  of  August,  1792, 
in  Mayor  Petion’s  carriage,  Louis  and  his  sad  suspended 
Household  fare  thither  ;  all  Paris  out  to  look  at  them.  As 
they  pass  through  the  Place  Vendome,  Louis  Fourteenth’s 


154 


THE  MARSEILLESE. 


_  Book  XIII. 

1792. 

Statue  lies  broken  on  the  ground.  Petion  is  afraid  the 
Queen’s  looks  may  be  thought  scornful,  and  produce  provoca¬ 
tion  ;  she  casts  down  her  eyes,  and  does  not  look  at  all.  The 
“  press  is  prodigious,”  but  quiet :  here  and  there,  it  shouts 
Vive  la  Nation  ;  but  for  most  part  gazes  in  silence.  Trench 
Royalty  vanishes  within  the  gates  of  the  Temple :  these  old 
peaked  Towers,  like  peaked  Extinguisher  or  Bonsoir ,  do  cover 
it  up ;  —  from  which  same  Towers,  poor  Jacques  Molay  and 
his  Templars  were  burnt  out,  by  French  Royalty,  five  centuries 
since.  Such  are  the  turns  of  Fate  below.  Foreign  Ambassa¬ 
dors,  English  Lord  Gower  have  all  demanded  passports ;  are 
driving  indignantly  towards  their  respective  homes. 


So,  then,  the  Constitution  is  over  ?  Forever  and  a  day  ! 
Gone  is  that  wronder  of  the  Universe  ;  First  biennial  Parlia¬ 
ment,  water-logged,  waits  only  till  the  Convention  come ; 
and  will  then  sink  to  endless  depths.  One  can  guess  the 
silent  rage  of  Old-Constituents,  Constitution-builders,  extinct 
Feuillants,  men  who  thought  the  Constitution  would  march  ! 
Lafayette  rises  to  the  altitude  of  the  situation;  at  the  head 
of  his  Army.  Legislative  Commissioners  are  posting  towards 
him  and  it,  on  the  Northern  Frontier,  to  congratulate  and 
perorate ;  he  orders  the  Municipality  of  Sedan  to  arrest  these 
Commissioners,  and  keep  them  strictly  in  ward  as  Rebels,  till 
he  say  farther.  The  Sedan  Municipals  obey. 

The  Sedan  Municipals  obey  ;  but  the  Soldiers  of  the  La¬ 
fayette  Army  ?  The  Soldiers  of  the  Lafayette  Army  have, 
as  all  Soldiers  have,  a  kind  of  dim  feeling  that  they  them¬ 
selves  are  Sansculottes  in  buff  belts ;  that  the  victory  of  the 
Tenth  of  August  is  also  a  victory  for  them.  They  will  not 
rise  and  follow  Lafayette  to  Paris :  they  will  rise  and  send 
him  thither  !  On  the  18th,  which  is  but  next  Saturday,  La¬ 
fayette,  with  some  two  or  three  indignant  Staff -officers,  one 
of  whom  is  Old-Constituent  Alexandre  de  Lameth,  having 
first  put  his  Lines  in  what  order  he  could,  —  rides  swiftly 
over  the  marches  towards  Holland.  Rides,  alas,  swiftly  into 
the  claws  of  Austrians !  He,  long  wavering,  trembling  on 
the  verge  of  the  Horizon,  has  set,  in  Olmutz  Dungeons ;.  this 


Chap.  Ym.  CONSTITUTION  BURST  IN  PIECES.  155 

August  13. 

History  knows  him  no  more.  Adieu,  thou  Hero  of  two 
Worlds  ;  thinnest,  but  compact  honor-worthy  man  !  Through 
long  rough  night  of  captivity,  through  other  tumults,  tri¬ 
umphs  and  changes,  thou  wilt  swing  well,  “  fast-anchored  to 
the  Washington  Formula;”  and  be  the  Hero  and  Perfect- 
character,  were  it  only  of  one  idea.  The  Sedan  Municipals 
repent  and  protest ;  the  Soldiers  shout  Vive  la  Nation.  Du- 
mouriez  Polymetis,  from  his  Camp  at  Maulde,  sees  himself 
made  Commander-in-Chief. 

And,  0  Brunswick  !  what  sort  of  “  military  execution  ”  will 
Paris  merit  now  ?  Forward,  ye  well-drilled  exterminatory 
men;  with  your  artillery-wagons,  and  camp-kettles  jingling. 
Forward,  tall  chivalrous  King  of  Prussia;  fanfaronading 
Emigrants  and  war-god  Broglie,  “  for  some  consolation  to  man¬ 
kind,”  which  verily  is  not  without  need  of  some. 


THE 


GUILLOTINE. 


BOOK  XIV. 

SEPTEMBER. 

- ♦— 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  IMPROVISED  COMMUNE. 

Ye  have  roused  her,  then,  ye  Emigrants  and  Despots  of  the 
world  j  Prance  is  roused  !  Long  have  ye  been  lecturing  and 
tutoring  this  poor  Nation,  like  cruel  uncalled-for  pedagogues, 
shaking  over  her  your  ferulas  of  fire  and  steel :  it  is  long  that 
ye  have  pricked  and  filliped  and  affrighted  her,  there  as  she  sat 
helpless  in  her  dead  cerements  of  a  Constitution,  you  gather¬ 
ing  in  on  her  from  all  lands,  with  your  armaments  and  plots, 
your  invadings  and  truculent  bullyings  ;  —  and  lo  now,  ye  have 
pricked  her  to  the  quick,  and  she  is  up,  and  her  blood  is  up. 
The  dead  cerements  are  rent  into  cobwebs,  and  she  fronts  you 
in  that  terrible  strength  of  Nature,  which  no  man  has  mea¬ 
sured,  which  goes  down  to  Madness  and  Tophet :  see  now  how 
ye  will  deal  with  her. 

This  month  of  September,  1792,  which  has  become  one  of 
the  memorable  months  of  History,  presents  itself  under  two 
most  diverse  aspects  ;  all  of  black  on  the  one  side,  all  of  bright 
on  the  other.  Whatsoever  is  cruel  in  the  panic  frenzy  of  Twenty- 
five  Million  men,  whatsoever  is  great  in  the  simultaneous  death- 
defiance  of  Twenty-five  Million  men,  stand  here  in  abrupt 
contrast,  near  by  one  another.  As  indeed  is  usual  when  a  man, 
how  much  more  when  a  Nation  of  men,  is  hurled  suddenly 


Chap.  I.  THE  IMPROVISED  COMMUNE.  157 

Aug  -Sept. 

beyond  the  limits.  For  Nature,  as  green  as  she  looks,  rests 
everywhere  on  dread  foundations,  were  we  farther  down ;  and 
Pan,  to  whose  music  the  Nymphs  dance,  has  a  cry  in  him  that 
can  drive  all  men  distracted. 

Very  frightful  it  is  when  a  Nation,  rending  asunder  its  Con¬ 
stitutions  and  Regulations  which  were  grown  dead  cerements 
for  it,  becomes  tfrcmscendental ;  and  must  now  seek  its  wild 
way  through  the  New,  Chaotic,  —  where  Force  is  not  yet  dis¬ 
tinguished  into  Bidden  and  Forbidden,  but  Crime  and  Virtue 
welter  unseparated,  —  in  that  domain  of  what  is  called  the 
Passions  ;  of  what  we  call  the  Miracles  and  the  Portents  !  It 
is  thus  that,  for  some  three  years  to  come,  we  are  to  contem¬ 
plate  France,  in  this  final  Third  Part  of  our  History.  Sans- 
culottism  reigning  in  all  its  grandeur  and  in  all  its  hideousness : 
the  Gospel  (God’s-message)  of  Man’s  Rights,  Man’s  mights  or 
strengths,  once  more  preached  irrefragably  abroad ;  along  with 
this,  and  still  louder  for  the  time,  the  fearfulest  Devil’ s-Mes- 
sage  of  Man’s  weaknesses  and  sins ;  —  and  all  on  such  a  scale, 
and  under  such  aspect :  cloudy  u  death-birth  of  a  world :  ”  huge 
smoke-cloud,  streaked  with  rays  as  of  heaven  on  one  side ;  girt 
on  the  other  as  with  hell-fire  !  History  tells  us  many  things  : 
but  for  the  last  thousand  years  and  more,  what  thing  has 
she  told  us  of  a  sort  like  this  ?  Which  therefore  let  us  two, 
0  Reader,  dwell  on  willingly,  for  a  little ;  and  from  its  endless 
significance  endeavor  to  extract  what  may,  in  present  circum¬ 
stances,  be  adapted  for  us. 

It  is  unfortunate,  though  very  natural,  that  the  history  of 
this  Period  has  so  generally  been  written  in  hysterics.  Ex¬ 
aggeration  abounds,  execration,  wailing ;  and,  on  the  whole, 
darkness.  But  thus  too,  when  foul  old  Rome  had  to  be  swept 
from  the  Earth,  and  those  Northmen,  and  other  horrid  sons  of 
Nature,  came  in,  “  swallowing  formulas,”  as  the  French  now 
do,  foul  old  Rome  screamed  execratively  her  loudest ;  so  that 
the  true  shape  of  many  things  is  lost  for  us.  Attila’s  Huns 
had  arms  of  such  length  that  they  could  lift  a  stone  without 
stooping.  Into  the  body  of  the  poor  Tatars  execrative  Roman 
History  intercalated  an  alphabetic  letter ;  and  so  they  continue 
Tartars,  of  fell  Tartarean  nature,  to  this  day.  Here,  in  like 


158 


SEPTEMBER. 


Book  XIV. 
1792. 

manner,  search  as  we  will  in  these  multiform  innumerable 
French  Records,  darkness  too  frequently  covers,  or  sheer  dis¬ 
traction  bewilders.  One  finds  it  difficult  to  imagine  that  the 
Sun  shone  in  this  September  month,  as  he  does  in  others. 
Nevertheless  it  is  an  indisputable  fact  that  the  Sun  did  shine ; 
and  there  was  weather  and  work,  —  nay  as  to  that,  very  bad 
weather  for  harvest-work !  An  unlucky  Editor  may  do  his 
utmost ;  and  after  all  require  allowances. 


He  had  been  a  wise  Frenchman,  who,  looking  close  at  hand 
on  this  waste  aspect  of  France  all  stirring  and  whirling,  in 
ways  new,  untried,  had  been  able  to  discern  where  the  cardinal 
movement  lay ;  which  tendency  it  was  that  had  the  rule  and 
primary  direction  of  it  then  !  But  at  forty-four  years’  dis¬ 
tance,  it  is  different.  To  all  men  now,  two  cardinal  movements 
or  grand  tendencies,  in  the  September  whirl,  have  become  dis¬ 
cernible  enough  :  that  stormful  effluence  towards  the  Frontiers ; 
that  frantic  crowding  towards  Town-houses  and  Council-halls 
in  the  interior.  Wild  France  dashes,  in  desperate  death-de¬ 
fiance,  towards  the  Frontiers,  to  defend  itself  from  foreign 
Despots ;  crowds  towards  Town-halls  and  Election  Committee- 
rooms,  to  defend  itself  from  domestic  Aristocrats.  Let  the 
Reader  conceive  well  these  two  cardinal  movements ;  and  what 
side-currents  and  endless  vortexes  might  depend  on  these.  He 
shall  judge  too,  whether,  in  such  sudden  wreckage  of  all  old 
Authorities,  such  a  pair  of  cardinal  movements,  half-frantic  in 
themselves,  could  be  of  soft  nature  ?  As  in  dry  Sahara,  when 
the  winds  waken,  and  lift  and  winnow  the  immensity  of  sand  ! 
The  air  itself  (Travellers  say)  is  a  dim  sand-air ;  and  dim  loom¬ 
ing  through  it,  the  wonderfulest  uncertain  colonnades  of  Sand- 
Pillars  rush  whirling  from  this  side  and  from  that,  like  so 
many  mad  Spinning-Dervishes,  of  a  hundred  feet  in  stature ; 
and  dance  their  huge  Desert-waltz  there  !  — 

Nevertheless,  in  all  human  movements,  were  they  but  a  day 
old,  there  is  order,  or  the  beginning  of  order.  Consider  two 
things  in  this  Sahara-waltz  of  the  French  Twenty-five  Millions  ; 
or  rather  one  thing,  and  one  hope  of  a  thing;  the  Commune 
(Municipality)  of  Paris,  which  is  already  here;  the  National 


Chap.  I.  THE  IMPROVISED  COMMUNE.  159 

Aug.-Sept. 

Convention,  which  shall  in  a  few  weeks  be  here.  The  Insur¬ 
rectionary  Commune,  which,  improvising  itself  on  the  eve  of 
the  Tenth  of  August,  worked  this  ever-memorable  Deliverance 
by  explosion,  must  needs  rule  over  it,  —  till  the  Convention 
meet.  This  Commune,  which  they  may  well  call  a  spontaneous 
or  “  improvised  ”  Commune,  is,  for  the  present,  sovereign  of 
France.  The  Legislative,  deriving  its  authority  from  the  Old, 
how  can  it  now  have  authority  when  the  Old  is  exploded  by 
insurrection  ?  As  a  floating  piece  of  wreck,  certain  things, 
persons  and  interests  may  still  cleave  to  it :  volunteer  defend¬ 
ers,  riflemen  or  pikemen  in  green  uniform,  or  red  nightcap  (of 
bonnet  rouge),  defile  before  it  daily,  just  on  the  wing  towards 
Brunswick  ;  with  the  brandishing  of  arms ;  always  with  some 
touch  of  Leonidas-eloquence,  often  with  a  fire  of  daring  that 
threatens  to  out-herod  Herod,  —  the  Galleries,  “  especially  the 
Ladies,  never  done  with  applauding.”  1  Addresses  of  this  or 
the  like  sort  can  be  received  and  answered,  in  the  hearing  of 
all  France  ;  the  Salle  de  Manege  is  still  useful  as  a  place  of 
proclamation.  For  which  use,  indeed,  it  now  chiefly  serves. 
Vergniaud  delivers  spirit-stirring  orations  ;  but  always  with  a 
prophetic  sense  only,  looking  towards  the  coming  Convention. 
“Let  our  memory  perish,”  cries  Vergniaud;  “but  let  France 
be  free  !  ”  —  whereupon  they  all  start  to  their  feet,  shouting 
responsive:  “Yes,  yes,  perisse  notre  memoir e,  pourvu  que  la 
France  soit  libre /”2  Disfrocked  Chabot  adjures  Heaven  that 
at  least  we  may  “  have  done  with  Kings  ;  ”  and  fast  as  powder 
under  spark,  we  all  blaze  up  once  more,  and  with  waved  hats 
shout  and  swear:  “Yes,  nous  le  jurons  ;  plus  de  rois  !  ”  8  All 
which,  as  a  method  of  proclamation,  is  very  convenient. 

For  the  rest,  that  our  busy  Brissots,  rigorous  Rolands,  men 
who  once  had  authority,  and  now  have  less  and  less ;  men  who 
love  law,  and  will  have  even  an  Explosion  explode  itself  as  far 
as  possible  according  to  rule,  do  find  this  state  of  matters  most 
unofficial-unsatisfactory,  —  is  not  to  be  denied.  Complaints 
are  made ;  attempts  are  made :  but  without  effect.  The  at¬ 
tempts  even  recoil;  and  must  be  desisted  from,  for  fear  of 

1  Moore’s  Journal,  i.  85.  2  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  467. 

8  lb.  xvii.  437. 


160  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

worse :  the  sceptre  has  departed  from  this  Legislative  once 
and  always.  A  poor  Legislative,  so  hard  was  fate,  had  let 
itself  be  hand-gyved,  nailed  to  the  rock  like  an  Andromeda, 
and  could  only  wail  there  to  the  Earth  and  Heavens ;  miracu¬ 
lously  a  winged  Perseus  (or  Improvised  Commune)  has  dawned 
out  of  the  void  Blue,  and  cut  her  loose :  but  whether  now  is  it 
she,  with  her  softness  and  musical  speech,  or  is  it  he,  with  his 
hardness  and  sharp  falchion  and  aegis,  that  shall  have  casting- 
vote  ?  Melodious  agreement  of  vote  ;  this  were  the  rule  !  But 
if  otherwise,  and  votes  diverge,  then  surely  Andromeda’s  part 
is  to  weep,  —  if  possible,  tears  of  gratitude  alone. 

Be  content,  0  Erance,  with  this  Improvised  Commune,  such 
as  it  is  !  It  has  the  implements,  and  has  the  hands  :  the  time 
is  not  long.  On  Sunday  the  twenty-sixth  of  August,  our  Pri¬ 
mary  Assemblies  shall  meet,  begin  electing  of  Electors ;  on 
Sunday  the  second  of  September  (may  the  day  prove  lucky !) 
the  Electors  shall  begin  electing  Deputies;  and  so  an  all¬ 
healing  National  Convention  will  come  together.  No  marc 
d  argent,  or  distinction  of  Active  and  Passive,  now  insults  the 
French  Patriot :  but  there  is  universal  suffrage,  unlimited 
liberty  to  choose.  Old-Constituents,  Present-Legislators,  all 
Erance  is  eligible.  Nay  it  may  be  said,  the  flower  of  all  the 
Universe  (de  VXJnivers)  is  eligible;  for  in  these  very  days  we, 
by  act  of  Assembly,  “naturalize  ”  the  chief  Foreign  Friends  of 
Humanity  :  Priestley,  burnt  out  for  us  in  Birmingham ;  Klop- 
stock,  a  genius  of  all  countries ;  Jeremy  Bentham,  useful  Juris¬ 
consult  ;  distinguished  Paine,  the  rebellious  Needleman ;  — 
some  of  whom  may  be  chosen.  As  is  most  fit ;  for  a  Conven¬ 
tion  of  this  kind.  In  a  word,  seven  hundred  and  forty-five 
unshackled  sovereigns,  admired  of  the  universe,  shall  replace 
this  hapless  impotency  of  a  Legislative,  —  out  of  which,  it  is 
likely,  the  best  Members,  and  the  Mountain  in  mass,  may  be 
re-elected.  Roland  is  getting  ready  the  Salle  des  Cent  Suisses, 
as  preliminary  rendezvous  for  them ;  in  that  void  Palace  of  the 
Tuileries,  now  void  and  National,  and  not  a  Palace,  but  a 
CaravanseTa. 

As  for  the  Spontaneous  Commune,  one  may  say  that  there 
never  was  on  Earth  a  stranger  Town-Council.  Administration, 


Chap.  I.  THE  IMPROVISED  COMMUNE.  161 

Aug.-Sept. 

not  of  a  great  City,  but  of  a  great  Kingdom  in  a  state  of  revolt 
and  frenzy,  this  is  the  task  that  has  fallen  to  it.  Enrolling, 
provisioning,  judging;  devising,  deciding,  doing,  endeavoring 
to  do  :  one  wonders  the  human  brain  did  not  give  way  under 
all  this,  and  reel.  But  happily  human  brains  have  such  a 
talent  of  taking  up  simply  what  they  can  carry,  and  ignoring 
all  the  rest ;  leaving  all  the  rest,  as  if  it  were  not  there  ! 
Whereby  somewhat  is  verily  shifted  for ;  and  much  shifts  for 
itself.  This  Improvised  Commune  walks  along,  nothing  doubt¬ 
ing  ;  promptly  making  front,  without  fear  or  flurry,  at  what 
moment  soever,  to  the  wants  of  the  moment.  Were  the  world 
on  fire,  one  improvised  tricolor  Municipal  has  but  one  life  to 
lose.  They  are  the  elixir  and  chosen-men  of  Sansculottic 
Patriotism ;  promoted  to  the  forlorn-hope  ;  unspeakable  victory 
or  a  high  gallows,  this  is  their  meed.  They  sit  there,  in  the 
Town-hall,  these  astonishing  tricolor  Municipals ;  in  Council 
General ;  in  Committee  of  Watchfulness  ( de  Surveillance ,  which 
will  even  become  de  Salut  Public ,  of  Public  Salvation),  or  what 
other  Committees  and  Subcommittees  are  needful ;  —  managing 
infinite  Correspondence  ;  passing  infinite  Decrees  :  one  hears  of 
a  Decree  being  “  the  ninety-eighth  of  the  day.”  Keady  !  is  the 
word.  They  carry  loaded  pistols  in  their  pocket ;  also  some 
improvised  luncheon  by  way  of  meal.  Or  indeed,  by  and  by, 
traiteurs  contract  for  the  supply  of  repasts,  to  be  eaten  on  the 
spot,  —  too  lavishly,  as  it  was  afterwards  grumbled.  Thus 
they  :  girt  in  their  tricolor  sashes  ;  Municipal  note-paper  in  the 
one  hand,  fire-arms  in  the  other.  They  have  their  Agents  out 
all  over  France ;  speaking  in  town-houses,  market-places,  high¬ 
ways  and  by-ways  ;  agitating,  urging  to  arm ;  all  hearts  tingling 
to  hear.  Great  is  the  fire  of  Anti-aristocrat  eloquence  :  nay 
some,  as  Bibliopolic  Momoro,  seem  to  hint  afar  off  at  some¬ 
thing  which  smells  of  Agrarian  Law,  and  a  surgery  of  the  over- 
swoln  dropsical  strong-box  itself;  —  whereat  indeed  the  bold 
Bookseller  runs  risk  of  being  hanged,  and  Ex-Constituent 
Buzot  has  to  smuggle  him  off.1 

Governing  Persons,  were  they  never  so  insignificant  intrin¬ 
sically,  have  for  most  part  plenty  of  Memoir- writers  ;  and  the 

1  Mtmoires  de  Buzot  (Paris,  1823),  p.  88. 

VOL.  IV.  11 


162  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

curious,  in  after-times,  can  learn  minutely  their  goings  out 
and  comings  in :  which,  as  men  always  love  to  know  their 
fellow-men  in  singular  situations,  is  a  comfort,  of  its  kind. 
Not  so  with  these  Governing  Persons,  now  in  the  Town-hall ! 
And  yet  what  most  original  fellow-man,  of  the  Governing  sort, 
high-chancellor,  king,  kaiser,  secretary  of  the  home  or  the 
foreign  department,  ever  showed  such  a  phasis  as  Clerk  Tal- 
lien,  Procureur  Manuel,  future  Procureur  Chaumette,  here  in 
this  Sand-waltz  of  the  Twenty -five  Millions  now  do  ?  0 

brother  mortals,  —  thou  Advocate  Panis,  friend  of  Danton, 
kinsman  of  Santerre  ;  Engraver  Sergent,  since  called  Agate 
Sergent ;  thou  Huguenin,  with  the  tocsin  in  thy  heart !  But, 
as  Horace  says,  they  wanted  the  sacred  memoir-writer  (sacro 
vate )  ;  and  we  know  them  not.  Men  bragged  of  August  and  its 
doings,  publishing  them  in  high  places ;  but  of  this  September 
none  now  or  afterwards  would  brag.  The  September  world 
remains  dark,  fuliginous,  as  Lapland  witch-midnight ;  —  from 
which,  indeed,  very  strange  shapes  will  evolve  themselves. 

Understand  this,  however :  that  incorruptible  Robespierre  is 
not  wanting,  now  when  the  brunt  of  battle  is  past ;  in  a  stealthy 
way  the  sea-green  man  sits  there,  his  feline  eyes  excellent  in 
the  twilight.  Also  understand  this  other,  a  single  fact  worth 
many :  that  Marat  is  not  only  there,  but  has  a  seat  of  honor 
assigned  him,  a  tribune  particular  e.  How  changed  for  Marat ; 
lifted  from  his  dark  cellar  into  this  luminous  “  peculiar  trib¬ 
une  ”  !  All  dogs  have  their  day ;  even  rabid  dogs.  Sorrowful, 
incurable  Philoctetes  Marat ;  without  whom  Troy  cannot  be 
taken  !  Hither,  as  a  main  element  of  the  Governing  Power, 
has  Marat  been  raised.  Royalist  types,  for  we  have  “sup¬ 
pressed  ”  innumerable  Durosoys,  Royous,  and  even  clapt  them 
in  prison,  —  Royalist  types  replace  the  worn  types  often 
snatched  from  a  People’s-Friend  in  old  ill  days.  In  our  “  pecu¬ 
liar  tribune  ”  we  write  and  redact :  Placards,  of  due  monitory 
terror ;  Amis-du- People  (now  under  the  name  of  Journal  de  la 
Republique)  ;  and  sit  obeyed  of  men.  “  Marat,”  says  one,  “  is 
the  conscience  of  the  Hotel-de-Ville.”  Keeper ,  as  some  call  it, 
of  the  Sovereign’s  Conscience  ;  which  surely  in  such  hands  will 
not  lie  hid  in  a  napkin ! 


Chap.  I.  THE  IMPROVISED  COMMUNE.  163 

August  25. 

Two  great  movements,  as  we  said,  agitate  this  distracted 
National  mind :  a  rushing  against  domestic  Traitors,  a  rush¬ 
ing  against  foreign  Despots.  Mad  movements  both,  restrain- 
able  by  no  known  rule ;  strongest  passions  of  human  nature 
driving  them  on :  love,  hatred,  vengeful  sorrow,  braggart  Na¬ 
tionality  also  vengeful,  —  and  pale  Panic  over  all !  Twelve 
hundred  slain  Patriots,  do  they  not,  from  their  dark  cata¬ 
combs  there,  in  Death’s  dumb-show,  plead  (0  ye  Legislators) 
for  vengeance  ?  Such  was  the  destructive  rage  of  these  Aris¬ 
tocrats  on  the  ever-memorable  Tenth.  Nay,  apart  from  ven¬ 
geance,  and  with  an  eye  to  Public  Salvation  only,  are  there 
not  still,  in  this  Paris  (in  round  numbers)  “  thirty  thousand 
Aristocrats,”  of  the  most  malignant  humor ;  driven  now  to 
their  last  trump-card  ?  —  Be  patient,  ye  Patriots :  our  New 
High  Court,  “  Tribunal  of  the  Seventeenth,”  sits ;  each  Sec¬ 
tion  has  sent  four  Jurymen :  and  Danton,  extinguishing  im¬ 
proper  judges,  improper  practices  wheresoever  found,  is  “the 
same  man  you  have  knoAvn  at  the  Cordeliers.”  With  such  a 
Minister  of  Justice,  shall  not  Justice  be  done?  —  Let  it  be 
swift,  then,  answers  universal  Patriotism  ;  swift  and  sure  !  — 

One  would  hope,  this  Tribunal  of  the  Seventeenth  is  swift¬ 
er  than  most.  Already  on  the  21st,  while  our  Court  is  but 
four  days  old,  Collenot  d’Angremont,  “the  Royalist  enlister  ” 
(crimp,  embaucheur),  dies  by  torchlight.  Eor,  lo,  the  great 
Guillotine ,  wondrous  to  behold,  now  stands  there  ;  the  Doctor’s 
Idea  has  become  Oak  and  Iron ;  the  huge  cyclopean  axe  “  falls 
in  its  grooves  like  the  ram  of  the  Pile-engine,”  swiftly  snuffing 
out  the  light  of  men  !  “  Mats  vous ,  Gualches,  what  have  you 

invented  ?  ”  This  ?  —  Poor  old  Laporte,  Intendant  of  the 
Civil  List,  follows  next;  quietly,  the  mild  old  man.  Then 
Durosoy,  Royalist  Placarder,  “cashier  of  all  the  Anti-revolu¬ 
tionists  of  the  interior :  ”  he  went  rejoicing ;  said  that  a  Royal¬ 
ist  like  him  ought  to  die,  of  all  days,  on  this  day,  the  25th  or 
St.  Louis’s  Day.  All  these  have  been  tried,  cast,  —  the  Gal¬ 
leries  shouting  approval ;  and  handed  over  to  the  Realized 
Idea,  within  a  week.  Besides  those  whom  we  have  acquitted, 
the  Galleries  murmuring,  and  have  dismissed ;  or  even  have 
personally  guarded  back  to  Prison,  as  the  Galleries  took  to 


164  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

howling,  and  even  to  menacing  and  elbowing.1  Languid  this 
Tribunal  is  not. 

Nor  does  the  other  movement  slacken ;  the  rushing  against 
foreign  Despots.  Strong  forces  shall  meet  in  death-grip ; 
drilled  Europe  against  mad  undrilled  Erance  ;  and  singular 
conclusions  will  be  tried.  —  Conceive  therefore,  in  some  faint 
degree,  the  tumult  that  whirls  in  this  Erance,  in  this  Paris  ! 
Placards  from  Section,  from  Commune,  from  Legislative,  from 
the  individual  Patriot,  flame  monitory  on  all  walls.  Flags  of 
Danger  to  Fatherland  wave  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville  ;  on  the  Pont- 
Neuf — over  the  prostrate  Statues  of  Kings.  There  is  uni¬ 
versal  enlisting,  urging  to  enlist ;  there  is  tearful-boastful 
leave-taking;  irregular  marching  on  the  Great  Northeastern 
Road.  Marseillese  sing  their  wild  To  arms,  in  chorus  ;  which 
now  all  men,  all  women  and  children  have  learnt,  and  sing 
chorally,  in  Theatres,  Boulevards,  Streets  ;  and  the  heart  burns 
in  every  bosom  :  Aux  armes  !  Marchons  !  —  Or  think  how  your 
Aristocrats  are  skulking  into  covert ;  how  Bertrand-Moleville 
lies  hidden  in  some  garret  “  in  Aubry-le-boucher  Street,  with 
a  poor  surgeon  who  had  known  me.”  Dame  de  Stael  has 
secreted  her  Narbonne,  not  knowing  what  in  the  world  to 
make  of  him.  The  Barriers  are  sometimes  open,  oftenest 
shut ;  no  passports  to  be  had  ;  Town-hall  Emissaries,  with  the 
eyes  and  claws  of  falcons,  flitting  watchful  on  all  points  of 
your  horizon  !  In  two  words :  Tribunal  of  the  Seventeenth, 
busy  under  howling  Galleries;  Prussian  Brunswick,  “over  a 
space  of  forty  miles,”  with  his  war-tumbrils,  and  sleeping 
thunders,  and  Briarean  “  sixty-six  thousand  ”  2  right  hands,  — 
coming,  coming ! 

0  Heavens,  in  these  latter  days  of  August,  he  is  come ! 
Durosoy  was  not  yet  guillotined  when  news  had  come  that 
the  Prussians  were  harrying  and  ravaging  about  Metz;  in 
some  four  days  more,  one  hears  that  Longwi,  our  first  strong- 
place  on  the  borders,  is  fallen  “  in  fifteen  hours.”  Quick  there¬ 
fore,  0  ye  improvised  Municipals  ;  quick,  and  ever  quicker  !  — 
The  improvised  Municipals  make  front  to  this  also.  Enrol- 

1  Moore’s  Journal,  i.  159-168. 

2  See  Toulongeon,  Hist .  de  France ,  ii.  c.  5. 


Chap.  i.  THE  IMPKOVISED  COMMUNE.  165 

August  25. 

ment  urges  itself ;  and  clothing,  and  arming.  Our  very  offi¬ 
cers  have  now  “  wool  epaulettes ;  ”  for  it  is  the  reign  of 
Equality,  and  also  of  Necessity.  Neither  do  men  now  mon¬ 
sieur  and  sir  one  another ;  citoyen  (citizen)  were  suitabler  ;  we 
even  say  thou ,  as  “  the  free  peoples  of  Antiquity  did :  ”  so 
have  Journals  and  the  Improvised  Commune  suggested;  which 
shall  be  well. 

Infinitely  better,  meantime,  could  we  suggest,  where  arms 
are  to  be  found.  For  the  present,  our  Citoyens  chant  chorally 
To  arms  ;  and  have  no  arms  !  Arms  are  searched  for ;  passion¬ 
ately  ;  there  is  joy  over  any  musket.  Moreover,  entrench¬ 
ments  shall  be  made  round  Paris :  on  the  slopes  of  Montmartre 
men  dig  and  shovel ;  though  even  the  simple  suspect  this  to 
be  desperate.  They  dig ;  Tricolor  sashes  speak  encourage¬ 
ment  and  ivell-speed-ye.  Nay  finally  “  twelve  Members  of  the 
Legislative  go  daily,”  not  to  encourage  only,  but  to  bear  a 
hand,  and  delve :  it  was  decreed  with  acclamation.  Arms 
shall  either  be  provided ;  or  else  the  ingenuity  of  man  crack 
itself,  and  become  fatuity.  Lean  Beaumarchais,  thinking  to 
serve  the  Fatherland,  and  do  a  stroke  of  trade  in  the  old  way, 
has  commissioned  sixty  thousand  stand  of  good  arms  out  of 
Holland:  would  to  Heaven,  for  Fatherland’s  sake  and  his, 
they  were  come  !  Meanwhile  railings  are  torn  up  ;  hammered 
into  pikes  ;  chains  themselves  shall  be  welded  together  into 
pikes.  The  very  coffins  of  the  dead  are  raised;  for  melting 
into  balls.  All  Church-bells  must  down  into  the  furnace  to 
make  cannon  ;  all  Church-plate  into  the  mint  to  make  money. 
Also,  behold  the  fair  swan-bevies  of  Citoyennes  that  have 
alighted  in  Churches,  and  sit  there  with  swan-neck,  —  sewing 
tents  and  regimentals  !  Nor  are  Patriotic  Gifts  wanting,  from 
those  that  have  aught  left ;  nor  stingily  given :  the  fair  Vil- 
laumes,  mother  and  daughter,  Milliners  in  the  Hue  St.-Martin, 
give  a  “  silver  thimble,  and  a  coin  of  fifteen  sous  (sevenpence 
halfpenny),”  with  other  similar  effects  ;  and  offer,  at  least  the 
,  mother  does,  to  mount  guard.  Men  who  have  not  even  a  thim¬ 
ble,  give  a  thimbleful,  —  were  it  but  of  invention.  One  Citoyen 
has  wrought  out  the  scheme  of  a  wooden  cannon ;  which  France 
shall  exclusively  profit  by,  in  the  first  instance.  It  is  to  be 


166  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV- 

1792- 

made  of  staves,  by  the  coopers  j  —  of  almost  boundless  calibre, 
but  uncertain  as  to  strength  !  Thus  they  :  hammering,  schem¬ 
ing,  stitching,  founding,  with  all  their  heart  and  with  all  their 
soul.  Two  bells  only  are  to  remain  in  each  Parish,  —  for  toc¬ 
sin  and  other  purposes. 

But  mark  also,  precisely  while  the  Prussian  batteries  were 
playing  their  briskest  at  Longwi  in  the  Northeast,  and  our 
dastardly  Lavergne  saw  nothing  for  it  but  surrender,  —  south- 
westward,  in  remote,  patriarchal  La  Vendee,  that  sour  ferment 
about  Non-juring  Priests,  after  long  working,  is  ripe,  and  ex¬ 
plodes  :  at  the  wrong  moment  for  us  !  And  so  we  have  u  eight 
thousand  Peasants  at  Chatillon-sur-Sevre  ”  who  will  not  be 
balloted  for  soldiers  ;  will  not  have  their  Curates  molested. 
To  whom  Bonchainps,  Larochejaquelins,  and  Seigneurs  enough 
of  a  Royalist  turn,  will  join  themselves ;  with  Stofflets  and 
Charettes  ;  with  Heroes  and  Chouan  Smugglers  ;  and  the 
loyal  warmth  of  a  simple  people,  blown  into  flame  and  fury  by 
theological  and  seignorial  bellows !  So  that  there  shall  be 
fighting  from  behind  ditches,  death-volleys  bursting  out  of 
thickets  and  ravines  of  rivers  ;  huts  burning,  feet  of  the  piti¬ 
ful  women  hurrying  to  refuge  with  their  children  on  their 
back ;  seedfields  fallow,  whitened  with  human  bones  ;  —  “  eighty 
thousand,  of  all  ages,  ranks,  sexes,  flying  at  once  across  the 
Loire,”  with  wail  borne  far  on  the  winds :  and  in  brief,  for 
years  coming,  such  a  suite  of  scenes  as  glorious  war  has  not 
offered  in  these  late  ages,  not  since  our  Albigenses  and  Crusad¬ 
ings  were  over,  —  save  indeed  some  chance  Palatinate,  or  so, 
we  might  have  to  “  burn,”  by  way  of  exception.  The  “  eight 
thousand  at  Chatillon  ”  will  be  got  dispelled  for  the  moment ; 
the  fire  scattered,  not  extinguished.  To  the  dints  and  bruises 
of  outward  battle  there  is  to  be  added  henceforth  a  deadlier 
internal  gangrene. 

This  rising  in  La  Vendee  reports  itself  at  Paris  on  Wednes¬ 
day  the  29th  of  August ;  —  just  as  we  had  got  our  Electors 
elected ;  and,  in  spite  of  Brunswick  and  Longwi,  were  hoping 
still  to  have  a  National  Convention,  if  it  pleased  Heaven.  But 
indeed  otherwise  this  Wednesday  is  to  be  regarded  as  one  of 
the  notablest  Paris  had  yet  seen :  gloomy  tidings  come  sue- 


Chap.  I.  THE  IMPROVISED  COMMUNE.  167 

August  29. 

cessively,  like  Job’s  messengers  ;  are  met  by  gloomy  answers. 
Of  Sardinia  rising  to  invade  the  Southeast,  and  Spain  threat¬ 
ening  the  South,  we  do  not  speak.  But  are  not  the  Prussians 
masters  of  Longwi  (treacherously  yielded,  one  would  say)  ; 
and  preparing  to  besiege  Verdun  ?  Clairfait  and  his  Aus¬ 
trians  are  encompassing  Thionville ;  darkening  the  North. 
Not  Metzland  now,  but  the  Clermontais  is  getting  harried ; 
flying  hulans  and  hussars  have  been  seen  on  the  Chalons  road, 
almost  as  far  as  Sainte-Menehould.  Heart,  ye  Patriots ;  if  ye 
lose  heart,  ye  lose  all ! 

It  is  not  without  a  dramatic  emotion  that  one  reads  in  the 
Parliamentary  Debates  of  this  Wednesday  evening  “past  seven 
o’clock,”  the  scene  with  the  military  fugitives  from  Longwi. 
Wayworn,  dusty,  disheartened,  these  poor  men  enter  the  Leg¬ 
islative,  about  sunset  or  after  ;  give  the  most  pathetic  detail 
of  the  frightful  pass  they  were  in  :  Prussians  billowing  round 
b}r  the  myriad,  volcanically  spouting  fire  for  fifteen  hours  : 
we,  scattered  sparse  on  the  ramparts,  hardly  a  cannoneer  to 
two  guns  ;  our  dastard  Commandant  Lavergne  nowhere  show¬ 
ing  face  ;  the  priming  would  not  catch ;  there  was  no  powder 
in  the  bombs,  —  what  could  we  do  ?  “  Mourir ,  Die  !  ”  answer 

prompt  voices  ; 1  and  the  dusty  fugitives  must  shrink  else¬ 
whither  for  comfort.  —  Yes,  Mourir,  that  is  now  the  word. 
Be  Longwi  a  proverb  and  a  hissing  among  French  strong- 
places  :  let  it  (says  the  Legislative)  be  obliterated  rather,  from 
the  shamed  face  of  the  Earth ;  —  and  so  there  has  gone  forth 
Decree,  that  Longwi  shall,  were  the  Prussians  once  out  of  it, 
“  be  razed,”  and  exist  only  as  ploughed  ground. 

Nor  are  the  Jacobins  milder ;  as  how  could  they,  the  flower 
of  Patriotism  ?  Poor  Dame  Lavergne,  wife  of  the  poor  Com¬ 
mandant,  took  her  parasol  one  evening,  and  escorted  by  her 
Father  came  over  to  the  Hall  of  the  mighty  Mother ;  and 
“  reads  a  memoir  tending  to  justify  the  Commandant  of 
Longwi.”  Lafarge,  President,  makes  answer ;  “  Citoyenne, 
the  Nation  will  judge  Lavergne  ;  the  Jacobins  are  bound  to  tell 
him  the  truth.  He  would  have  ended  his  course  there  (termine 
sa  carrier e),  if  he  had  loved  the  honor  of  his  country.”  2 
1  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  148.  2  lb.  xix.  300. 


168 


SEPTEMBER. 


Book  XIV . 
1792. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DANTON. 

But  better  than  razing  of  Longwi,  or  rebuking  poor  dusty 
soldiers  or  soldiers’  wives,  Danton  had  come  over,  last  night, 
and  demanded  a  Decree  to  search  for  arms,  since  they  were 
not  yielded  voluntarily.  Let  “  Domiciliary  visits,”  with  rigor 
of  authority,  be  made  to  this  end.  To  search  for  arms ;  for 
horses,  —  Aristocratism  rolls  in  its  carriage,  while  Patriotism 
cannot  trail  its  cannon.  To  search  generally  for  munitions 
of  war,  “  in  the  houses  of  persons  suspect,”  —  and  even,  if  it 
seem  proper,  to  seize  and  imprison  the  suspect  persons  them¬ 
selves  !  In  the  Prisons  their  Plots  will  be  harmless  ;  in  the 
Prisons  they  will  be  as  hostages  for  us,  and  not  without  use. 
This  Decree  the  energetic  Minister  of  Justice  demanded  last 
night,  and  got ;  and  this  same  night  it  is  to  be  executed ;  it 
is  being  executed  at  the  moment  when  these  dusty  soldiers 
get  saluted  with  Mouvir.  Two  thousand  stand  of  arms,  as 
they  count,  are  foraged  in  this  way ;  and  some  four  hundred 
head  of  new  Prisoners  ;  and,  on  the  whole,  such  a  terror  and 
damp  is  struck  through  the  Aristocrat  heart,  as  all  but  Patri¬ 
otism,  and  even  Patriotism  were  it  out  of  this  agony,  might 
pity.  Yes,  Messieurs  !  if  Brunswick  blast  Paris  to  ashes,  he 
probably  will  'blast  the  Prisons  of  Paris  too :  pale  Terror,  if 
we  have  got  it,  we  will  also  give  it,  and  the  depth  of  horrors 
that  lie  in  it ;  the  same  leaky  bottom,  in  these  wild  waters, 
bears  us  all. 

One  can  judge  what  stir  there  was  now  among  the  “  thirty 
thousand  Royalists :  ”  how  the  Plotters,  or  the  accused  of 
Plotting,  shrank  each  closer  into  his  lurking-place,  —  like 
Bertrand-Moleville,  looking  eager  towards  Longwi,  hoping  the 
weather  would  keep  fair.  Or  how  they  dressed  themselves  in 
valet’s  clothes,  like  Narbonne,  and  “got  to  England  as  Dr. 


DAN  TON. 


DANTON. 


169 


Chap.  II. 

August  29. 

Bollman’s  famulus : ”  how  Dame  de  Stael  bestirred  herself, 
pleading  with  Manuel  as  a  Sister  in  Literature,  pleading  even 
with  Clerk  Tallien  ;  a  prey  to  nameless  chagrins  ! 1  Loyalist 
Peltier,  the  Pamphleteer,  gives  a  touching  Narrative  (not  de¬ 
ficient  in  height  of  coloring)  of  the  terrors  of  that  night. 
From  five  in  the  afternoon,  a  great  city  is  struck  suddenly 
silent ;  except  for  the  beating  of  drums,  for  the  tramp  of 
marching  feet ;  and  ever  and  anon  the  dread  thunder  of  the 
knocker  at  some  door,  a  Tricolor  Commissioner  with  his  blue 
Guards  (6Zac&-guards  !)  arriving.  All  Streets  are  vacant,  says 
Peltier  ;  beset  by  Guards  at  each  end  :  all  Citizens  are  ordered 
to  be  within  doors.  On  the  Liver  float  sentinel  barges,  lest  we 
escape  by  water :  the  Barriers  hermetically  closed.  Frightful ! 
The  Sun  shines ;  serenely  westering,  in  smokeless  mackerel- 
sky  ;  Paris  is  as  if  sleeping,  as  if  dead :  —  Paris  is  holding 
its  breath,  to  see  what  stroke  will  fall  on  it.  Poor  Peltier  ! 
Acts  of  Apostles,  and  all  jocundity  of  Leading  Articles,  are 
gone  out,  and  it  is  become  bitter  earnest  instead ;  polished 
satire  changed  now  into  coarse  pike-points  (hammered  out  of 
railing)  ;  all  logic  reduced  to  this  one  primitive  thesis,  An  eye 
for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth  !  —  Peltier,  dolefully  aware  of 
it,  ducks  low ;  escapes  unscathed  to  England ;  to  urge  there 
the  inky  war  anew ;  —  to  have  Trial  by  Jury,  in  due  season, 
and  deliverance  by  young  Whig  eloquence,  world-celebrated 
for  a  day. 

Of  u  thirty  thousand  ”  naturally  great  multitudes  were  left 
unmolested :  but,  as  we  said,  some  four  hundred,  designated 
as  u  persons  suspect,”  were  seized  ;  and  an  unspeakable  terror 
fell  on  all.  Woe  to  him  who  is  guilty  of  plotting,  of  Anti- 
civism,  Loyalism,  Feuillantism ;  who,  guilty  or  not  guilty, 
has  an  enemy  in  his  Section  to  call  him  guilty  !  Poor  old 
M.  de  Cazotte  is  seized ;  his  young  loved  Daughter  with  him, 
refusing  to  quit  him.  Why,  0  Cazotte,  wouldst  thou  quit 
romancing  and  Diable  Amoureux,  for  such  reality  as  this  ? 
Poor  old  M.  de  Sombreuil,  he  of  the  Invalides,  is  seized ;  a 
man  seen  askance  by  Patriotism  ever  since  the  Bastille  days ; 
whom  also  a  fond  Daughter  will  not  quit.  With  young  tears 
1  De  Stael,  Considerations  sur  la  Revolution,  ii.  67-81. 


170 


SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

'  1792. 

hardly  suppressed,  and  old  wavering  weakness  rousing  itself 

once  more,  —  0  my  brothers,  0  my  sisters  ! 

The  famed  and  named  go ;  the  nameless,  if  they  have  an 
accuser.  Necklace  Lamotte’s  Husband  is  in  these  Prisons 
(she  long  since  squelched  on  the  London  Pavements) ;  but  gets 
delivered.  Gross  de  Morande,  of  the  Courrier  de  l’ Europe, 
hobbles  distractedly  to  and  fro  there  :  but  they  let  him  hob¬ 
ble  out ;  on  right  nimble  crutches ;  —  his  hour  not  being  yet 
come.  Advocate  Maton  de  la  Varenne,  very  weak  in  health, 
is  snatched  off  from  mother  and  kin ;  Tricolor  Possignol 
(journeyman  goldsmith  and  scoundrel  lately,  a  risen  man  now) 
remembers  an  old  Pleading  of  Maton’s  !  Jourgniac  de  Saint- 
Meard  goes  ;  the  brisk  frank  soldier  :  he  was  in  the  mutiny 
of  Nanci,  in  that  “effervescent  Pegiment  du  Roi,” —  on  the 
wrong  side.  Saddest  of  all :  Abbe  Sicard  goes  ;  a  Priest  who 
could  not  take  the  Oath,  but  who  could  teach  the  Deaf  and 
Dumb :  in  his  Section  one  man,  he  says,  had  a  grudge  at  him ; 
one  man,  at  the  fit  hour,  launches  an  arrest  against  him ;  which 
hits.  In  the  Arsenal  quarter,  there  are  dumb  hearts  making 
wail,  with  signs,  with  wild  gestures ;  he  their  miraculous  healer 
and  speech-bringer  is  rapt  away. 

What  with  the  arrestments  on  this  night  of  the  Twenty- 
ninth,  what  with  those  that  have  gone  on  more  or  less,  day 
and  night,  ever  since  the  Tenth,  one  may  fancy  what  the 
Prisons  now  were.  Crowding  and  confusion ;  jostle,  hurry, 
vehemence  and  terror  !  Of  the  poor  Queen’s  Friends,  who 
had  followed  her  to  the  Temple,  and  been  committed  else¬ 
whither  to  Prison,  some,  as  Governess  de  Tourzelle,  are  to  be 
let  go  :  one,  the  poor  Princess  de  Lamballe,  is  not  let  go ;  but 
waits  in  the  strong-rooms  of  La  Force  there,  what  will  betide 
farther. 

Among  so  many  hundreds  whom  the  launched  arrest  hits, 
who  are  rolled  off  to  Town-hall  or  Section-hall,  to  preliminary 
Houses  of  Detention,  and  hurled  in  thither  as  into  cattle-pens, 
we  must  mention  one  other :  Caron  de  Beaumarchais,  Author 
of  Figaro ;  vanquisher  of  Maupeou  Parlements  and  Goezman 
hell-dogs  ;  once  numbered  among  the  demigods  ;  and  now  —  ? 


DANTON. 


171 


Chap.  II. 

August  29. 

We  left  him  in  his  culminant  state  j  what  dreadful  decline 
is  this,  when  we  again  catch  a  glimpse  of  him !  u  At  mid¬ 
night  [it  was  but  the  12th  of  August  yet],  the  servant,  in 
his  shirt,”  with  wide-staring  eyes,  enters  your  room  :  —  Mon¬ 
sieur,  rise,  all  the  people  are  come  to  seek  you ;  they  are 
knocking,  like  to  break  in  the  door  !  “  And  they  were  in  fact 

knocking  in  a  terrible  manner  (d’une  fagon  terrible).  I  fling 
on  my  coat,  forgetting  even  the  waistcoat,  nothing  on  my  feet 
but  slippers  ;  and  say  to  him  ”  —  And  he,  alas,  answers  mere 
negatory  incoherences,  panic  interjections.  And  through  the 
shutters  and  crevices,  in  front  or  rearward,  the  dull  street- 
lamps  disclose  only  streetfuls  of  haggard  countenances  ;  clam¬ 
orous,  bristling  with  pikes :  and  you  rush  distracted  for  an 
outlet,  finding  none ;  * —  and  have  to  take  refuge  in  the  crockery- 
press,  down  stairs ;  and  stand  there,  palpitating  in  that  im¬ 
perfect  costume,  lights  dancing  past  your  key-hole,  tramp  of 
feet  overhead  and  the  tumult  of  Satan,  “  for  four  hours  and 
more  ” !  And  old  ladies,  of  the  quarter,  started  up  (as  we 
hear  next  morning) ;  rang  for  their  bonnes  and  cordial-drops, 
with  shrill  interjections  :  and  old  gentlemen,  in  their  shirts, 
“  leapt  garden-walls  ;  ”  flying  while  none  pursued ;  one  of 
whom  unfortunately  broke  his  leg.1  Those  sixty  thousand 
stand  of  Dutch  i\^ms  (which  never  arrive),  and  the  bold 
stroke  of  trade,  have  turned  out  so  ill!  — 

Beaumarchais  escaped  for  this  time  ;  but  not  for  the  next 
time,  ten  days  after.  On  the  evening  of  the  Twenty-ninth 
he  is  still  in  that  chaos  of  the  Prisons,  in  saddest  wrestling 
condition ;  unable  to  get  justice,  even  to  get  audience  ;  “  Pa- 
nis  scratching  his  head  ”  when  you  speak  to  him,  and  making 
off.  Nevertheless  let  the  lover  of  Figaro  know  that  Procu- 
reur  Manuel,  a  Brother  in  Literature,  found  him,  and  delivered 
him  once  more.  But  how  the  lean  demigod,  now  shorn  of  his 
splendor,  had  to  lurk  in  barns,  to  roam  over  harrowed  fields, 
panting  for  life ;  and  to  wait  under  eavesdrops,  and  sit  in 
darkness  “on  the  Boulevard  amid  paving-stones  and  boul¬ 
ders,”  longing  for  one  word  of  any  Minister,  or  Minister’s 
Clerk,  about  those  accursed  Dutch  muskets,  and  getting  none, 

1  Beaumarchais’  Narrative,  Memoires  sur  les  Prisons  (Paris,  1823),  i.  179-190. 


172 


SEPTEMBER. 


Book  XIY. 

1792. 

—  with,  heart  fuming  in  spleen,  and  terror,  and  suppressed 
canine-madness ;  alas,  how  the  swift  sharp  hound,  once  fit  to 
be  Diana’s,  breaks  his  old  teeth  now,  gnawing  mere  whin- 
stones  ;  and  must  “  fly  to  England ;  ”  and,  returning  from 
England,  must  creep  into  the  corner,  and  lie  quiet,  toothless 
(moneyless),  —  all  this  let  the  lover  of  Figaro  fancy,  and  weep 
for.  We  here,  without  weeping,  not  without  sadness,  wave 
the  withered  tough  fellow-mortal  our  farewell.  His  Figaro 
has  returned  to  the  French  stage ;  nay  is,  at  this  day,  some¬ 
times  named  the  best  piece  there.  And  indeed,  so  long  as 
Man’s  Life  can  ground  itself  only  on  artificiality  and  aridity  ; 
each  new  Revolt  and  Change  of  Dynasty  turning  up  only  a 
new  stratum  of  dry -rubbish ,  and  no  soil  yet  coming  to  view,  — 
may  it  not  be  good  to  protest  against  such  a  Life,  in  many 
ways,  and  even  in  the  Figaro  way  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

DUMOURIEZ. 

Such  are  the  last  days  of  August,  1792^  days  gloomy,  dis¬ 
astrous  and  of  evil  omen.  What  will  become  of  this  poor 
France  ?  Dumouriez  rode  from  the  Camp  of  Maulde,  east¬ 
ward  to  Sedan,  on  Tuesday  last,  the  28th  of  the  month ;  re¬ 
viewed  that  so-called  Army  left  forlorn  there  by  Lafayette: 
the  forlorn  soldiers  gloomed  on  him ;  were  heard  growling  on 
him,  “This  is  one  of  them,  ce  b — e  la,  that  made  War  be 
declared.” 1  Unpromising  Army  !  Recruits  flow  in,  filtering 
through  Depot  after  Depot ;  but  recruits  merely  :  in  want  of 
all ;  happy  if  they  have  so  much  as  arms.  And  Longwi  has 
fallen  basely ;  and  Brunswick,  and  the  Prussian  King,  with 
his  sixty  thousand,  will  beleaguer  Verdun;  and  Clairfait  and 
Austrians  press  deeper  in,  over  the  Northern  marches :  “  a 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand”  as  fear  counts,  “eighty  thou¬ 
sand  ”  as  the  returns  show,  do  hem  us  in ;  Cimmerian  Europe 

/ 

1  Dumouriez,  Memoires,  ii.  383. 


Chap.  III.  DUMOURIEZ.  173 

September  2. 

behind  them.  There  is  Castries-and-Broglie  chivalry ;  Royal¬ 
ist  foot  “  in  red  facing  and  nankeen  trousers ;  ”  breathing 
death  and  the  gallows. 

And  lo,  finally,  at  Verdun  on  Sunday  the  2d  of  September, 
1792,  Brunswick  is  here.  With  his  King  and  sixty  thousand, 
glittering  over  the  heights,  from  beyond  the  winding  Meuse 
River,  he  looks  down  on  us,  on  our  “  high  citadel  ”  and  all 
our  confectionery  ovens  (for  we  are  celebrated  for  confection¬ 
ery)  ;  has  sent  courteous  summons,  in  order  to  spare  the  effu¬ 
sion  of  blood !  —  Resist  him  to  the  death  ?  Every  day  of 
retardation  precious  ?  How,  0  General  Beaurepaire  (asks  the 
amazed  Municipality),  shall  we  resist  him  ?  We,  the  Verdun 
Municipals,  see  no  resistance  possible.  Has  he  not  sixty  thou¬ 
sand,  and  artillery  without  end?  Retardation,  Patriotism  is 
good ;  but  so  likewise  is  peaceable  baking  of  pastry,  and  sleep¬ 
ing  in  whole  skin.  —  Hapless  Beaurepaire  stretches  out  his 
hands,  and  pleads  passionately,  in  the  name  of  country,  honor, 
of  Heaven  and  of  Earth  :  to  no  purpose.  The  Municipals  have, 
by  law,  the  power  of  ordering  it;  — with  an  Army  officered  by 
Royalism  or  Crypto-Royalism,  such  a  Law  seemed  needful:: 
and  they  order  iJ,  as  pacific  Pastry-cooks,  not  as  heroic  Pa¬ 
triots  would,  —  To  surrender  !  Beaurepaire  strides  home,  with 
long  steps  :  his  valet,  entering  the  room,  sees  him  “  writing 
eagerly,”  and  withdraws.  His  valet  hears  then,  in  few  min¬ 
utes,  the  report  of  a  pistol :  Beaurepaire  is  lying  dead ;  his 
eager  writing  had  been  a  brief  suicidal  farewell.  In  this 
manner  died  Beaurepaire,  wept  of  France  ;  buried  in  the  Pan¬ 
theon,  with  honorable  Pension  to  his  Widow,  and  for  Epitaph 
these  words,  He  chose  Death  rather  than  yield  to  Despots.  The 
Prussians,  descending  from  the  heights,  are  peaceable  masters 
of  Verdun. 

And  so  Brunswick  advances,  from  stage  to  stage  :  who  shall 
'  now  stay  him,  —  covering  forty  miles  of  country  ?  Foragers 
fly  far ;  the  villages  of  the  Northeast  are  harried ;  your  Hes¬ 
sian  forager  has  only  “  three  sous  a  day  :  ”  the  very  Emigrants, 
it  is  said,  will  take  silver-plate,  —  by  way  of  revenge.  Cler¬ 
mont,  Sainte-Menehould,  Varennes  especially,  ye  Towns  of  the 
Night  of  Spurs ,  tremble  ye  !  Procureur  Sausse  and  the  Magis- 


174  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

tracy  of  Varennes  have  fled ;  brave  Boniface  Le  Blanc  of  the 
Bras  d’Or  is  to  the  woods  :  Mrs.  Le  Blanc,  a  young  woman  fair 
to  look  upon,  with  her  young  infant,  has  to  live  in  greenwood, 
like  a  beautiful  Bessy  Bell  of  Song,  her  bower  thatched  with 
rushes  ;  catching  premature  rheumatism.1  Clermont  may  ring 
the  tocsin  now,  and  illuminate  itself !  Clermont  lies  at  the 
foot  of  its  Cow  (or  Vaclie,  so  they  name  that  Mountain),  a  prey 
to  the  Hessian  spoiler  :  its  fair  women,  fairer  than  most,  are 
robbed ;  not  of  life,  or  what  is  dearer,  yet  of  all  that  is  cheaper 
and  portable;  for  Necessity,  on  three  halfpence  a  day,  has  no 
law.  At  Sainte-Menehould  the  enemy  has  been  expected  more 
than  once,  —  our  Nationals  all  turning  out  in  arms  ;  but  was 
not  yet  seen.  Postmaster  Drouet,  he  is  not  in  the  woods,  but 
minding  his  Election  ;  and  will  sit  in  the  Convention,  notable 
King-taker,  and  bold  Old-Dragoon  as  he  is. 

Thus  on  the  Northeast  all  roams  and  runs;  and  on  a  set 
day,  the  date  of  which  is  irrecoverable  by  History,  Brunswick 
“  has  engaged  to  dine  in  Paris,”  —  the  Powers  willing.  And  at 
Paris,  in  the  centre,  it  is  as  we  saw;  and  in  La  Vendee  South¬ 
west,  it  is  as  we  saw ;  and  Sardinia  is  in  the  Southeast,  and 
Spain  in  the  South,  and  Clairfait  with  Austria  and  sieged 
Thionville  is  in  the  North  ;  —  and  all  France  leaps  distracted, 
like  the  winnowed  Sahara  waltzing  in  sand  colonnades !  More 
desperate  posture  no  country  ever  stood  in.  A  country,  one 
would  say,  which  the  Majesty  of  Prussia  (if  it  so  pleased  him) 
might  partition  and  clip  in  pieces,  like  a  Poland ;  flinging  the 
remainder  to  poor  Brother  Louis,  —  with  directions  to  keep  it 
quiet,  or  else  we  will  keep  it  for  him  ! 

Or  perhaps  the  Upper  Powers,  minded  that  a  new  Chapter 
in  Universal  History  shall  begin  here  and  not  farther  on,  may 
have  ordered  it  all  otherwise  ?  In  that  case,  Brunswick  will 
not  dine  in  Paris  on  the  set  day;  nor,  indeed,  one  knows  not 
when  ! : —  Verily,  amid  this  wreckage,  where  poor  France  seems 
grinding  itself  down  to  dust  and  bottomless  ruin,  who  knows 
what  miraculous  salient-point  of  Deliverance  and  New-life  may 
have  already  come  into  existence  there ;  and  be  already  work¬ 
ing  there,  though  as  yet  human  eye  discern  it  not !  On  the 

1  Helen  Maria  Williams,  Letters  from  France  (London,  1791-93),  iii.  96. 


DUMOURIEZ. 


Chap.  III. 
September  2. 


175 


night  of  that  same  twenty-eighth  of  August,  the  unpromising 
Review-day  in  Sedan,  Dumouriez  assembles  a  Council  of  War 
at  his  lodgings  there.  He  spreads  out  the  map  of  this  forlorn 
war-district ;  Prussians  here,  Austrians  there ;  triumphant 
both,  with  broad  highway,  and  little  hinderance,  all  the  way  to 
Paris  :  we  scattered,  helpless,  here  and  here  :  what  to  advise  ? 
The  Generals,  strangers  to  Dumouriez,  look  blank  enough; 
know  not  well  what  to  advise,  —  if  it  be  not  retreating,  and 
retreating  till  our  recruits  accumulate  ;  till  perhaps  the  chapter 
of  chances  turn  up  some  leaf  for  us ;  or  Paris,  at  all  events,  be 
sacked  at  the  latest  day  possible.  The  Many-counselled,  who 
“has  not  closed  an  eye  for  three  nights,”  listens  with  little 
speech  to  these  long  cheerless  speeches ;  merely  watching  the 
speaker,  that  he  may  know  him ;  then  wishes  them  all  good¬ 
night  ;  —  but  beckons  a  certain  young  Thouvenot,  the  fire  of 
whose  looks  had  pleased  him,  to  wait  a  moment.  Thouvenot 
waits :  Voila,  says  Polymetis,  pointing  to  the  map  !  That  is 
the  Forest  of  Argon  ne,  that  long  strip  of  rocky  Mountain  and' 
wild  Wood;  forty  miles  long  ;  with  but  five,  or  say  even  three 
practicable  Passes  through  it :  this,  for  they  have  forgotten  it, 
might  one  not  still  seize,  though  Clairfait  sits  so  nigh  ?  Once 
seized  ;  —  the  Champagne  called  the  Hungry  (or  worse,  Cam*- 
pagne  Pouilleuse)  on  their  side  of  it ;  the  fat  Three  Bishop¬ 
rics,  and  willing  France  on  ours ;  and  the  Equinox  rains  not 
far :  — this  Argonne  “  might  be  the  Thermopylae  of  France  !  ”  1: 

0  brisk  Dumouriez  Poly  metis  with  thy  teeming  head,  may 
the  gods  grant  it !  —  Polymetis,  at  any  rate,  folds  his  map  to¬ 
gether,  and  flings  himself  on  bed;  resolved  to  try,  on  the 
morrow  morning.  With  astucity,  with  swiftness,  with  au¬ 
dacity  !  One  had  need  to  be  a  lion-fox,  and  have  luck  on  one’s 
side. 

1  Dumouriez,  ii.  391. 


176 


SEPTEMBER. 


Book  XIV. 
1792. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SEPTEMBER  IN  PARIS. 

At  Paris,  by  lying  Rumor  which  proved  prophetic  and 
veridical,  the  fall  of  Verdun  was  known  some  hours  before  it 
happened.  It  is  Sunday  the  second  of  September  ;  handiwork 
hinders  not  the  speculations  of  the  mind.  Verdun  gone  (though 
some  still  deny  it) ;  the  Prussians  in  full  march,  with  gallows- 
ropes,  with  fire  and  fagot !  Thirty  thousand  Aristocrats 
within  our  own  walls ;  and  but  the  merest  quarter-tithe  of 
them  yet  put  in  Prison!  Hay  there  goes  a  word  that  even 
these  will  revolt.  Sieur  Jean  Julien,  wagoner  of  Vaugirard,1 
being  set  in  the  Pillory  last  Friday,  took  all  at  once  to  crying, 
That  he  would  be  well  revenged  ere  long;  that  the  King’s 
Friends  in  Prison  would  burst  out,  force  the  Temple,  set  the 
King  on  horseback,  and,  joined  by  the  unimprisoned,  ride 
rough-shod  over  us  all.  This  the  unfortunate  wagoner  of  Vau¬ 
girard  did  bawl,  at  the  top  of  his  lungs :  when  snatched  off  to 
the  Town-hall,  he  persisted  in  it,  still  bawling;  yesternight, 
when  they  guillotined  him,  he  died  with  the  froth  of  it  on  his 
lips.2  For  a  man’s  mind,  padlocked  to  the  Pillory,  may  go 
mad ;  and  all  men’s  minds  may  go  mad,  and  “  believe  him,”  as 
the  frenetic  will  do,  “  because  it  is  impossible.” 

So  that  apparently  the  knot  of  the  crisis  and  last  agony  of 
France  is  come  ?  Make  front  to  this,  thou  Improvised  Com¬ 
mune,  strong  Danton,  whatsoever  man  is  strong !  Readers  can 
judge  whether  the  Flag  of  Country  in  Danger  flapped  sooth¬ 
ingly  or  distractively  on  the  souls  of  men  that  day. 

But  the  Improvised  Commune,  but  strong  Danton  is  not 
wanting,  each  after  his  kind.  Huge  Placards  are  getting  plas¬ 
tered  to  the  walls ;  at  two  o’clock  the  storm-bell  shall  be 
sounded,  the  alarm-cannon  fired;  all  Paris  shall  rush  to  the 
1  Moore,  i.  178.  2  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  409. 


Chap.  IV.  IN  PARIS.  177 

September  2. 

Champ-de-Mars,  and  have  itself  enrolled.  Unarmed,  truly, 
and  undrilled ;  but  desperate,  in  the  strength  of  frenzy. 
Haste,  ye  men ;  ye  very  women,  offer  to  mount  guard  and 
shoulder  the  brown  musket :  weak  clucking-hens,  in  a  state  of 
desperation,  will  fly  at  the  muzzle  of  the  mastiff;  and  even 
conquer  him,  —  by  vehemence  of  character !  Terror  itself, 
when  once  grown  transcendental,  becomes  a  kind  of  courage ; 
as  frost  sufficiently  intense,  according  to  Poet  Milton,  will 
burn.  —  Danton,  the  other  night,  in  the  Legislative  Committee 
of  General  Defence,  when  the  other  Ministers  and  Legislators 
had  all  opined,  said,  It  would  not  do  to  quit  Paris ;  and  fly  to 
Saumur ;  that  they  must  abide  by  Paris ;  and  take  such  atti¬ 
tude  as  would  put  their  enemies  in  fear,  —  faire  peur  ;  a  word 
of  his  which  has  been  often  repeated,  and  reprinted  —  in 
italics.1 

At  two  of  the  clock,  Beaurepaire,  as  we  saw,  has  shot  him¬ 
self  at  Verdun ;  and,  over  Europe,  mortals  are  going  in  for 
afternoon  sermon.  But  at  Paris,  all  steeples  are  clangoring 
not  for  sermon ;  the  alarm-gun  booming  from  minute  to  min¬ 
ute  ;  Champ-de-Mars  and  Fatherland’s  Altar  boiling  with  des¬ 
perate  terror-courage :  what  a  miserere,  going  up  to  Heaven 
from  this  once  Capital  of  the  Most  Christian  King !  The  Leg¬ 
islative  sits  in  alternate  awe  and  effervescence ;  Vergniaud 
proposing  that  twelve  shall  go  and  dig  personally  on  Mont¬ 
martre;  which  is  decreed  by  acclaim. 

But  better  than  digging  personally  with  acclaim,  see  Danton 
enter;  —  the  black  brows  clouded,  the  colossus  figure  tramp¬ 
ing  heavy ;  grim  energy  looking  from  all  features  of  the  rugged 
man !  Strong  is  that  grim  Son  of  France  and  Son  of  Earth ; 
a  Reality  and  not  a  Formula  he  too :  and  surely  now  if  ever, 
being  hurled  low  enough,  it  is  on  the  Earth  and  on  Realities 
that  he  rests.  “  Legislators !  ”  so  speaks  the  stentor-voice,  as 
the  Newspapers  yet  preserve  it  for  us,  “it  is  not  the  alarm- 
cannon  that  you  hear :  it  is  the  pas  de  charge  against  our  ene¬ 
mies.  To  conquer  them,  to  hurl  them  back,  what  do  we 
require  ?  II  nous  faut  de  Vaudace ,  et  encore  de  Vciudace ,  et 
toujours  de  Vaudace ,  To  dare,  and  again  to  dare,  and  without 

1  Biographie  des  Ministres  (Bruxelles,  1826),  p.  96. 

VOL.  IV.  12 


1^8  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

end  to  dare  !  ”  1  —  Right  so,  thou  brawny  Titan ;  there  is  noth¬ 
ing  left  for  thee  but  that.  Old  men,  who  heard  it,  will  still 
tell  you  how  the  reverberating  voice  made  all  hearts  swell,  in 
that  moment ;  and  braced  them  to  the  sticking-place ;  and 
thrilled  abroad  over  France,  like  electric  virtue,  as  a  word 
spoken  in  season. 

„  But  the  Commune,  enrolling  in  the  Champ-de-Mars  ?  But 
the  Committee  of  Watchfulness,  become  now  Committee  of 
Public  Salvation;  whose  conscience  is  Marat?  The  Com¬ 
mune  enrolling  enrols  many;  provides  tents  for  them  in 
that  Mars-Field,  that  they  may  march  with  dawn  on  the 
morrow:  praise  to  this  part  of  the  Commune!  To  Marat 
and  the  Committee  of  Watchfulness  not  praise;  —  not  even 
blame,  such  as  could  be  meted,  out  in  these  insufficient  dia¬ 
lects  of  ours  ;  expressive  silence  rather !  Lone  Marat,  the 
man  forbid,  meditating  long  in  his  Cellars  of  refuge,  on  his 
Stylites  Pillar,  could  see  salvation  in  one  thing  only :  in  the 
fall  of  “  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  Aristocrat  heads.” 
With  so  many  score  of  Naples  Bravoes,  each  a  dirk  in  his 
right  hand,  a  muff  on  his  left,  he  would  traverse  France,  and 
do  it.  But  the  world  laughed,  mocking  the  severe-benevo- 
lence  of  a  People’s-Friend ;  and  his  idea  could  not  become 
an  action,  but  only  a  fixed-idea.  Lo  now,  however,  he  has 
come  down  from  his  Stylites  Pillar  to  a  Tribune  particuliere ; 
here  now,  without  the  dirks,  without  the  muffs  at  least,  were 
it  not  grown  possible,  —  now  in  the  knot  of  the  crisis,  when 
salvation  or  destruction  hangs  in  the  hour ! 

The  Ice-Tower  of  Avignon  was  noised  of  sufficiently,  and 
lives  in  all  memories ;  but  the  authors  were  not  punished : 
nay  we  saw  Jourdan  Coupe-tete,  borne  on  men’s  shoulders, 
like  a  copper  Portent,  “  traversing  the  cities  of  the  South.”  — 
What  phantasms,  squalid-horrid,  shaking  their  dirk  and  muff, 
may  dance  through  the  brain  of  a  Marat,  in  this  dizzy  peal¬ 
ing  of  tocsin-miserere  and  universal  frenzy,  seek  not  to  guess, 
0  Reader  !  Nor  what  the  cruel  Billaud  “  in  his  short  brown 
coat  ”  was  thinking ;  nor  Sergent,  nor  yet  Agate- Sergent ;  nor 
Panis  the  confidant  of  Danton ;  —  nor,  in  a  word,  how  gloomy 

1  Moniteur  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  347). 


IN  PARIS. 


179 


Chap.  IV. 
September  2. 


Orcus  does  breed  in  her  gloomy  womb,  and  fashion  her  mon¬ 
sters  and  prodigies  of  Events,  which  thou  seest  her  visibly 
bear !  Terror  is  on  these  streets  of  Paris ;  terror  and  rage, 
tears  and  frenzy :  tocsin-miserere  pealing  through  the  air ; 
fierce  desperation  rushing  to  battle ;  mothers,  with  stream¬ 
ing  eyes  and  wild  hearts,  sending  forth  their  sons  to  die. 
“  Carriage-horses  are  seized  by  the  bridle,”  that  they  may 
draw  cannon ;  “  the  traces  cut,  the  carriages  left  standing.” 
In  such  tocsin-miserere,  and  murky  bewilderment  of  Frenzy, 
are  not  Murder,  Ate  and  all  Furies  near  at  hand  ?  On  slight 
hint  —  who  knows  on  how  slight  ?  —  may  not  Murder  come  ; 
and,  with  her  snaky-sparkling  head,  illuminate  this  murk ! 

How  it  was  and  went,  what  part  might  be  premeditated, 
what  was  improvised  and  accidental,  man  will  never  know, 
till  the  great  Day  of  Judgment  make  it  known.  But  with 
a  Marat  for  keeper  of  the  Sovereign’s  Conscience  —  And  we 
know  what  the  ultima  ratio  of  Sovereigns,  when  they  are 
driven  to  it,  is  !  In  this  Paris  there  are  as  wicked  men,  sav 
a  hundred  or  more,  as  exist  in  all  the  Earth :  to  be  hired, 
and  set  on  ;  to  set  on,  of  their  own  accord,  unhired.  —  And 
yet  we  will  remark  that  premeditation  itself  is  not  perform¬ 
ance,  is  not  surety  of  performance ;  that  it  is  perhaps,  at 
most,  surety  of  letting  whosoever  wills  perform.  From  the 
purpose  of  crime  to  the  act  of  crime  there  is  an  abyss ;  won¬ 
derful  to  think  of.  The  finger  lies  on  the  pistol ;  but  the 
man  is  not  yet  a  murderer :  nay  his  whole  nature  staggering 
at  such  consummation,  is  there  not  a  confused  pause  rather, 
—  one  last  instant  of  possibility  for  him?  Not  yet  a  mur¬ 
derer  ;  it  is  at  the  mercy  of  light  trifles  whether  the  most 
fixed  idea  may  not  yet  become  unfixed.  One  slight  twitch 
of  a  muscle,  the  death-flash  bursts ;  and  he  is  it,  and  will  for 
Eternity  be  it ;  and  Earth  has  become  a  penal  Tartarus  for 
him ;  his  horizon  girdled  now  not  with  golden  hope,  but 
with  red  flames  of  remorse  ;  voices  from  the  depths  of  Nature 
sounding,  Woe,  woe  on  him  ! 

Of  such  stuff  are  we  all  made ;  on  such  powder-mines  of 
bottomless  guilt  and  criminality,  —  “if  God  restrained  not,”  as 
is  well  said,  —  does  the  purest  of  us  walk.  There  are  depths 


180  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

in  man  that  go  the  length  of  lowest  Hell,  as  there  are  heights 
that  reach  highest  Heaven  ;  —  for  are  not  both  Heaven  and 
Hell  made  out  of  him,  made  by  him,  everlasting  Miracle  and 
Mystery  as  he  is  ?  —  But  looking  on  this  Champ-de-Mars,  with 
its  tent-buildings  and  frantic  enrolments;  on  this  murky- 
simmering  Paris,  with  its  crammed  Prisons  (supposed  about 
to  burst),  with  its  tocsin-miserere,  its  mothers’  tears,  and 
soldiers’  farewell  shoutings,  —  the  pious  soul  might  have 
prayed,  that  day,  that  God’s  grace  would  restrain,  and  greatly 
restrain;  lest  on  slight  hest  or  hint,  Madness,  Horror  and 
Murder  rose,  and  this  Sabbath-day  of  September  became  a 
Day  black  in  the  Annals  of  men. 

The  tocsin  is  pealing  its  loudest,  the  clocks  inaudibly 
striking  Three,  when  poor  Abbe  Sicard,  with  some  thirty 
other  Non-jurant  Priests,  in  six  carriages,  fare  along  the 
streets,  from  their  preliminary  House  of  Detention  at  the 
Town-hall,  westward  towards  the  Prison  of  the  Abbaye.  Car¬ 
riages  enough  stand  deserted  on  the  street ;  these  six  move 
on,  —  through  angry  multitudes,  cursing  as  they  move.  Ac¬ 
cursed  Aristocrat  Tartuffes,  this  is  the  pass  ye  have  brought 
us  to !  And  now  ye  will  break  the  Prisons,  and  set  Capet 
Veto  on  horseback  to  ride  over  us  ?  Out  upon  you,  Priests 
of  Beelzebub  and  Moloch ;  of  Tartuffery,  Mammon  and  the 
Prussian  Gallows, — which  ye  name  Mother-Church  and  God  ! 
—  Such  reproaches  have  the  poor  Non-jurants  to  endure,  and 
worse  ;  spoken  in  on  them  by  frantic  Patriots,  who  mount 
even  on  the  carriage-steps ;  the  very  Guards  hardly  refrain¬ 
ing.  Pull  up  your  carriage-blinds  ?  —  No  !  answers  Patriot¬ 
ism,  clapping  its  horny  paw  on  the  carriage-blind,  and 
crushing  it  down  again.  Patience  in  oppression  has  limits : 
we  are  close  on  the  Abbaye,  it  has  lasted  long :  a  poor  Non- 
jurant,  of  quicker  temper,  smites  the  horny  paw  with  his  , 
cane ;  nay,  finding  solacement  in  it,  smites  the  unkempt  head, 
sharply  and  again  more  sharply,  twice  over,  —  seen  clearly 
of  us  and  of  the  world.  It  is  the  last  that  we  see  clearly. 
Alas,  next  moment  the  carriages  are  locked  and  blocked  in 
endless  raging  tumults ;  in  yells  deaf  to  the  cry  for  mercy, 
which  answer  the  cry  for  mercy  with  sabre-thrusts  through 


181 


Chap.  TV.  IN  PARIS. 

September  2-6. 

the  heart.1  The  thirty  Priests  are  torn  out,  are  massacred 
about  the  Prison-Gate,  one  after  one,  —  only  the  poor  Abbe 
Sicard,  whom  one  Moton  a  watch-maker,  knowing  him,  heroi¬ 
cally  tried  to  save  and  secrete  in  the  prison,  escapes  to  tell ; 
—  and  it  is  Night  and  Orcus ;  and  Murder’s  snaky-sparkling 
head  has  risen  in  the  murk  !  — 

From  Sunday  afternoon  (exclusive  of  intervals  and  pauses 
not  final)  till  Thursday  evening,  there  follow  consecutively  a 
Hundred  Hours.  Which  hundred  hours  are  to  be  reckoned 
with  the  hours  of  the  Bartholomew  Butchery,  of  the  Armagnac 
Massacres,  Sicilian  Vespers,  or  whatsoever  is  savagest  in  the 
annals  of  this  world.  Horrible  the  hour  when  man’s  soul,  in 
its  paroxysm,  spurns  asunder  the  barriers  and  rules ;  and 
shows  what  dens  and  depths  are  in  it !  For  Night  and  Orcus, 
as  we  say,  as  was  long  prophesied,  have  burst  forth,  here  in 
this  Paris,  from  their  subterranean  imprisonment :  hideous, 
dim-confused ;  which  it  is  painful  to  look  on ;  and  yet  which 
cannot,  and  indeed  which  should  not,  be  forgotten. 

The  Reader,  who  looks  earnestly  through  this  dim  Phan- 
tasmagory  of  the  Pit,  will  discern  few  fixed  certain  objects  ; 
and  yet  still  a  few.  He  will  observe,  in  this  Abbaye  Prison, 
the  sudden  massacre  of  the  Priests  being  once  over,  a  strange 
Court  of  Justice,  or  call  it  Court  of  Revenge  and  Wild- Justice, 
swiftly  fashion  itself,  and  take  seat  round  a  table,  with  the 
Prison-Registers  spread  before  it ;  —  Stanislas  Maillard,  Bas¬ 
tille  hero,  famed  Leader  of  the  Menads,  presiding.  0  Stanis¬ 
las,  one  hoped  to  meet  thee  elsewhere  than  here  ;  thou  shifty 
Riding-Usher,  with  an  inkling  of  Law!  This  work  also  thou 
hadst  to  do  ;  and  then  —  to  depart  forever  from  our  eyes.  At 
La  Force ,  at  the  Chdtelet ,  the  Conciergerie,  the  like  Court 
forms  itself,  with  the  like  accompaniments  :  the  thing  that 
one  man  does,  other  men  can  do.  There  are  some  Seven 
Prisons  in  Paris,  full  of  Aristocrats  with  conspiracies  ;  —  nay 
not  even  Bicetre  and  Salpetriere  shall  escape,  with  their  Forg¬ 
ers  of  Assignats :  and  there  are  seventy  times  seven  hundred 

1  Felemhesi  (anagram  for  Mehee  Fils),  La  Verity  tout  entiere  sur  les  vrais 
auteurs  dela  journde  du  2  Septembre ,  1792  (reprinted  in  Hist.  Pari,  xviii.  156- 
181),  p.  167. 


182  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

Patriot  hearts  in  a  state  of  frenzy.  Scoundrel  hearts  also 
there  are ;  as  perfect,  say,  as  the  Earth  holds,  —  if  such  are 
needed.  To  whom,  in  this  mood,  law  is  as  no-law ;  and  kill¬ 
ing,  by  what  name  soever  called,  is  but  work  to  be  done. 

So  sit  these  sudden  Courts  of  Wild  Justice,  with  the 
Prison-Registers  before  them ;  unwonted  wild  tumult  howl¬ 
ing  all  round ;  the  Prisoners  in  dread  expectancy  within. 
Swift :  a  name  is  called  ;  bolts  jingle,  a  Prisoner  is  there.  A 
few  questions  are  put;  swiftly  this  sudden  Jury  decides: 
Royalist  Plotter  or  not  ?  Clearly  not ;  in  that  case,  let  the 
Prisoner  be  enlarged  with  Vive  la  Nation.  Probably  yea ; 
then  still,  Let  the  Prisoner  be  enlarged,  but  without  Vive  la 
Nation  ;  or  else  it  may  run,  Let  the  Prisoner  be  conducted  to 
La  Force.  At  La  Force  again  their  formula  is,  Let  the  Pris¬ 
oner  be  conducted  to  the  Abbaye  —  “  To  La  Force,  then  !  ” 
Volunteer  bailiffs  seize  the  doomed  man  ;  he  is  at  the  outer 
gate  ;  “  enlarged,”  or  u  conducted,”  not  into  La  Force,  but  into 
a  howling  sea ;  forth,  under  an  arch  of  wild  sabres,  axes  and 
pikes ;  and  sinks,  hewn  asunder.  And  another  sinks,  and 
another;  and  there  forms  itself  a  piled  heap  of  corpses,  and  the 
kennels  begin  to  run  red.  Fancy  the  yells  of  these  men,  their 
faces  of  sweat  and  blood ;  the  crueler  shrieks  of  these  women, 
for  there  are  women  too ;  and  a  fellow-mortal  hurled  naked 
into  it  all !  Jourgniac  de  Saint-Meard  has  seen  battle,  has  seen 
an  effervescent  Regiment  du  Roi  in  mutiny ;  but  the  bravest 
heart  may  quail  at  this.  The  Swiss  Prisoners,  remnants  of 
the  Tenth  of  August,  “  clasped  each  other  spasmodically,  and 
hung  back  ;  gray  veterans  crying :  ‘  Mercy,  Messieurs ;  ah, 
mercy !  ’  But  there  was  no  mercy.  Suddenly,  however,  one 
of  these  men  steps  forward.  He  had  on  a  blue  frock-coat ;  he 
seemed  about  thirty,  his  stature  was  above  common,  his  look 
noble  and  martial.  1  I  go  first,’  said  he,  1  since  it  must  be  so : 
adieu !  ’  Then  dashing  his  hat  sharply  behind  him  :  ‘  Which 
way  ? ’  cried  he  to  the  Brigands :  ‘  Show  it  me,  then.’  They 
open  the  folding  gate  ;  he  is  announced  to  the  multitude.  He 
stands  a  moment  motionless  ;  then  plunges  forth  among  the 
pikes,  and  dies  of  a  thousand  wounds.”  1 

1  Felemhesi,  La  Vtrite  tout  entiere  (ut  supra),  p.  173. 


Chap.  IV.  IN  PARIS.  183 

September  2-6. 

Man  after  man  is  cut  down ;  the  sabres  need  sharpening, 
the  killers  refresh  themselves  from  wine-jugs.  Onward  and 
onward  goes  the  butchery  ;  the  loud  yells  wearying  down  into 
bass  growls.  A  sombre-faced  shifting  multitude  looks  on  ;  in 
dull  approval,  or  dull  disapproval ;  in  dull  recognition  that  it 
is  Necessity.  “An  Anglais  in  drab  great-coat  ”  was  seen,  or 
seemed  to  be  seen,  serving  liquor  from  his  own  dram-bottle ; 
—  for  what  purpose,  “if  not  set  on  by  Pitt,”  Satan  and  him¬ 
self  know  best !  Witty  Dr.  Moore  grew  sick  on  approaching, 
and  turned  into  another  street.1  —  Quick  enough  goes  this 
J ury-Court ;  and  rigorous.  The  brave  are  not  spared,  nor  the 
beautiful,  nor  the  weak.  Old  M.  de  Montmorin,  the  Minister’s 
Brother,  was  acquitted  by  the  Tribunal  of  the  Seventeenth ; 
and  conducted  back,  elbowed  by  howling  galleries ;  but  is  not 
acquitted  here.  Princess  de  Lamballe  has  lain  down  on  bed  : 
“  Madame,  you  are  to  be  removed  to  the  Abbaye.”  “  I  do  not 
wish  to  remove  ;  I  am  well  enough  here.”  There  is  a  need-be 
for  removing.  She  will  arrange  her  dress  a  little,  then ;  rude 
voices  answer,  “You  have  not  far  to  go.”  She  too  is  led  to 
the  hell-gate  ;  a  manifest  Queen’s-Friend.  She  shivers  back, 
at  the  sight  of  bloody  sabres ;  but  there  is  no  return :  Onwards  ! 
That  fair  hind  head  is  cleft  with  the  axe  ;  the  neck  is  severed. 
That  fair  body  is  cut  in  fragments  ;  with  indignities,  and  ob¬ 
scene  horrors  of  mustachio  grands-levres,  which  human  nature 
would  fain  find  incredible,  —  which  shall  be  read  in  the  origi¬ 
nal  language  only.  She  was  beautiful,  she  was  good,  she  had 
known  no  happiness.  Young  hearts,  generation  after  genera¬ 
tion,  will  think  with  themselves  :  0  worthy  of  worship,  thou 
king-descended,  god-descended,  and  poor  sister-woman!  why 
was  not  I  there ;  and  some  Sword  Balmung  or  Thor’s  Hammer 
in  my  hand?  Her  head  is  fixed  on  a  pike  ;  paraded  under  the 
windows  of  the  Temple  ;  that  a  still  more  hated,  a  Marie 
Antoinette,  may  see.  One  Municipal,  in  the  Temple  with  the 
Royal  Prisoners  at  the  moment,  said,  “Look  out.”  Another 
eagerly  whispered,  “  Do  not  look.”  The  circuit  of  the  Temple 
is  guarded,  in  these  hours,  by  a  long  stretched  tricolor  ribbon  : 
terror  enters,  and  the  clangor  of  infinite  tumult ;  hitherto  not 
regicide,  though  that  too  may  come. 

1  Moore’s  Journal,  i.  185-195. 


184 


SEPTEMBER. 


Book  XIV. 
1792. 


But  it  is  more  edifying  to  note  what  thrillings  of  affection, 
what  fragments  of  wild  virtues  turn  up  in  this  shaking  asunder 
of  man’s  existence  ;  for  of  these  too  there  is  a  proportion. 
Note  old  Marquis  Cazotte :  he  is  doomed  to  die ;  but  his 
young  Daughter  clasps  him  in  her  arms,  with  an  inspiration 
of  eloquence,  with  a  love  which  is  stronger  than  very  death  : 
the  heart  of  the  killers  themselves  is  touched  by  it ;  the  old 
man  is  spared.  Yet  he  was  guilty,  if  plotting  for  his  King  is 
guilt :  in  ten  days  more,  a  Court  of  Law  condemned  him,  and 
he  had  to  die  elsewhere ;  bequeathing  his  Daughter  a  lock  of 
his  old  gray  hair.  Or  note  old  M.  de  Sombreuil,  who  also  had 
a  Daughter  :  —  My  Father  is  not  an  Aristocrat :  0  good  gen¬ 
tlemen,  I  will  swear  it,  and  testify  it,  and  in  all  ways  prove 
it ;  we  are  not ;  we  hate  Aristocrats  !  “  Wilt  thou  drink  Aris¬ 
tocrats’  blood  ?  ”  The  man  lifts  blood  (if  universal  Rumor 
can  be  credited)  ; 1  the  poor  maiden  does  drink.  “  This  Som¬ 
breuil  is  innocent,  then  !  ”  Yes,  indeed, — and  now  note,  most 
of  all,  how  the  bloody  pikes,  at  this  news,  do  rattle  to  the 
ground ;  and  the  tiger-yells  become  bursts  of  jubilee  over  a 
brother  saved  ;  and  the  old  man  and  his  daughter  are  clasped 
to  bloody  bosoms,  with  hot  tears  ;  and  borne  home  in  triumph 
of  Vive  la  Nation,  the  killers  refusing  even  money  !  Does  it 
seem  strange,  this  temper  of  theirs  ?  It  seems  very  certain, 
well  proved  by  Royalist  testimony  in  other  instances  j 2  and 
very  significant. 


'  CHAPTER  Y. 

A  TRILOGY. 

As  all  Delineation,  in  these  ages,  were  it  never  so.  Epic, 
“  speaking  itself  and  not  singing  itself,”  must  either  found  on 
Belief  and  provable  Fact,  or  have  no  foundation  at  all  (nor, 

1  Dulaure,  Esguisses  historiqnes  des  principaux  evdnemens  de  la  Revolution, 
ii.  206  (cited  in  Montgaillard,  iii.  205). 

2  Bertrand-Moleville  [Mem.  particulars,  ii,  213),  &c.  &c. 


Chap.  V.  A  TRILOGY.  185 

September  2. 

except  as  floating  cobweb,  any  existence  at  all),  —  the  Reader 
will  perhaps  prefer  to  take  a  glance  with  the  very  eyes  of  eye¬ 
witnesses  ;  and  see,  in  that  way,  for  himself,  how  it  was. 
Brave  Jourgniac,  innocent  Abbe  Sicard,  judicious  Advocate 
Maton,  these,  greatly  compressing  themselves,  shall  speak, 
each  an  instant.  Jourgniac’s  Agony  of  Tlvirty-eiglit  Hours 
went  through  “  above  a  hundred  editions/’  though  intrinsi¬ 
cally  a  poor  work.  Some  portion  of  it  may  here  go  through 
above  the  hundred-and-first,  for  want  of  a  better. 

“  Towards  seven  o'clock  [Sunday  night  at  the  Abbaye ;  for 
Jourgniac  goes  by  dates]  :  We  saw  two  men  enter,  their 
hands  bloody  and  armed  with  sabres  ;  a  turnkey,  with  a  torch, 
lighted  them ;  he  pointed  to  the  bed  of  the  unfortunate  Swiss, 
Reding.  Reding  spoke  with  a  dying  voice.  One  of  them 
paused :  but  the  other  cried,  Allons  done  ;  lifted  the  unfortu¬ 
nate  man  ;  carried  him  out  on  his  back  to  the  street.  He  was 
massacred  there. 

“  We  all  looked  at  one  another  in  silence,  we  clasped  each 
other’s  hands.  Motionless,  with  fixed  eyes,  we  gazed  on 
the  pavement  of  our  prison  ;  on  which  lay  the  moonlight, 
checkered  with  the  triple  stanchions  of  our  windows.” 

“  Three  in  the  morning :  They  were  breaking  in  one  of  the 
prison-doors.  We  at  first  thought  they  were  coming  to  kill 
us  in  our  room ;  but  heard,  by  voices  on  the  staircase,  that  it 
was  a  room  where  some  Prisoners  had  barricaded  themselves. 
They  were  all  butchered  there,  as  we  shortly  gathered.” 

“  Ten  o'clock :  The  Abbe  Lenfant  and  the  Abbe  de  Chapt- 
Rastignac  appeared  in  the  pulpit  of  the  Chapel,  which  was  our 
prison ;  they  had  entered  by  a  dour  from  the  stairs.  They  said 
to  us  that  our  end  was  at  hand ;  that  we  must  compose  our¬ 
selves,  and  receive  their  last  blessing.  An  electric  movement, 
not  to  be  defined,  threw  us  all  on  our  knees,  and  we  received  it. 
These  two  white-haired  old  men,  blessing  us  from  their  place  * 
above ;  death  hovering  over  our  heads,  on  all  hands  environing 
us  ;  the  moment  is  never  to  be  forgotten.  Half  an  hour  after, 
they  were  both  massacred,  and  we  heard  their  cries.”  1  —  Thus 

1  Jourgniac  Saint-Meard,  Mon  Agonie  de  trente-hv.it  heures  (reprinted  in 
Hist.  Pari,  xviii.  103-135). 


186  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

Jourgniac  in  his  Agony  in  the  Abbaye  :  how  it  ended  with 
Jourgniac,  we  shall  see  anon. 

But  now  let  the  good  Maton  speak,  what  he,  over  in  La 
Force,  in  the  same  hours,  is  suffering  and  witnessing.  This 

a 

Resurrection  by  him  is  greatly  the  best,  the  least  theatrical 
of  these  Pamphlets  j  and  stands  testing  by  documents :  — 

“  Towards  seven  o’clock/’  on  Sunday  night,  “  prisoners 
were  called  frequently,  and  they  did  not  reappear.  Each  of 
us  reasoned,  in  his  own  way,  on  this  singularity  :  but  our 
ideas  became  calm,  as  we  persuaded  ourselves  that  the  Memo¬ 
rial  I  had  drawn  up  for  the  National  Assembly  was  producing 
effect.” 

“  At  one  in  the  morning,  the  grate  which  led  to  our  quarter 
opened  anew.  Four  men  in  uniform,  each  with  a  drawn  sabre 
and  blazing  torch,  came  up  to  our  corridor,  preceded  by  a 
turnkey ;  and  entered  an  apartment  close  to  ours,  to  investi¬ 
gate  a  box  there,  which  we  heard  them  break  up.  This  done, 
they  stept  into  the  gallery,  and  questioned  the  man  Cuissa, 
to  know  where  Lamotte  [Necklace’s  Widower]  was.  La- 
motte,  they  said,  had  some  months  ago,  under  pretext  of  a 
treasure  he  knew  of,  swindled  a  sum  of  three  hundred  livres 
from  one  of  them,  inviting  him  to  dinner  for  that  purpose. 
The  wretched  Cuissa,  now  in  their  hands,  who  indeed  lost  his 
life  this  night,  answered  trembling,  That  he  remembered  the 
fact  well,  but  could  not  tell  what  was  become  of  Lamotte. 
Determined  to  find  Lamotte  and  confront  him  with  Cuissa, 
they  rummaged,  along  with  this  latter,  through  various  other 
apartments  ;  but  without  effect,  for  we  heard  them  say :  1  Come 
search  among  the  corpses,  then ;  for,  nom  de  Dieu!  we  must 
find  where  he  is.’ 

“  At  this  same  time,  I  heard  Louis  Bardy,  the  Abbe  Bardy’s 
name  called :  he  was  brought  out ;  and  directly  massacred,  as  I 
learnt.  He  had  been  accused,  along  with  his  concubine,  five 
or  six  years  before,  of  having  murdered  and  cut  in  pieces  his 
own  brother,  Auditor  of  the  Chambre  des  Comptes  of  Mont¬ 
pellier  ;  but  had  by  his  subtlety,  his  dexterity,  nay  his  elo¬ 
quence,  outwitted  the  judges,  and  escaped. 

“One  may  fancy  what  terror  these  words,  (  Come  search 


Chap.  V.  A  TRILOGY.  187 

September  2. 

among  the  corpses,  then/  had  thrown  me  into.  I  saw  nothing 
for  it  now  but  resigning  myself  to  die.  I  wrote  my  last  will ; 
concluding  it  by  a  petition  and  adjuration,  that  the  paper 
should  be  sent  to  its  address.  Scarcely  had  I  quitted  the  pen, 
when  there  came  two  other  men  in  uniform  ;  one  of  them, 
whose  arm  and  sleeve  up  to  the  very  shoulder,  as  well  as  his 
sabre,  were  covered  with  blood,  said,  He  was  as  weary  as  a 
hodman  that  had  been  beating  plaster.” 

“  Baudin  de  la  Chenaye  was  called ;  sixty  years  of  virtues 
could  not  save  him.  They  said,  A  V  Abb  aye :  he  passed  the 
fatal  outer-gate ;  gave  a  cry  of  terror,  at  sight  of  the  heaped 
corpses  ;  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hands,  and  died  of  in¬ 
numerable  wounds.  At  every  new  opening  of  the  grate,  I 
thought  I  should  hear  my  own  name  called,  and  see  Ros- 
signol  enter.” 

“  I  flung  off  my  nightgown  and  cap ;  I  put  on  a  coarse 
unwashed  shirt,  a  worn  frock  without  waistcoat,  an  old  round 
hat ;  these  things  I  had  sent  for,  some  days  ago,  in  the  fear  of 
what  might  happen. 

“  The  rooms  of  this  corridor  had  been  all  emptied  but  ours. 
We  were  four  together ;  whom  they  seemed  to  have  forgotten  : 
we  addressed  our  prayers  in  common  to  the  Eternal  to  be 
delivered  from  this  peril.” 

“  Baptiste  the  turnkey  came  up  by  himself,  to  see  us.  I 
took  him  by  the  hands  ;  I  conjured  him  to  save  us  ;  promised 
him  a  hundred  louis,  if  he  would  conduct  me  home.  A  noise 
coming  from  the  grates  made  him  hastily  withdraw. 

“  It  was  the  noise  of  some  dozen  or  fifteen  men,  armed  to 
the  teeth ;  as  we,  lying  flat  to  escape  being  seen,  could  see 
from  our  windows.  ‘  Up-stairs  !  ’  said  they  :  4  Let  not  one 
remain.’  I  took  out  my  penknife ;  I  considered  where  I 
should  strike  myself,”  —  but  reflected  “  that  the  blade  was  too 
short,”  and  also  “on  religion.” 

Finally,  however,  between  seven  and  eight  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  enter  four  men  with  bludgeons  and  sabres  !  —  “  To 
one  of  whom  Gerard  my  comrade  whispered,  earnestly, 
apart.  During  their  colloquy  I  searched  everywhere  for 
shoes,  that  I  might  lay  off  the  Advocate  pumps  ( yantoufles  de 


188 


SEPTEMBER. 


Book  XIV. 
1792. 

Palais)  I  had  on,”  but  could  find  none.  —  “  Constant,  called 
le  Sauvage,  Gerard,  and  a  third  whose  name  escapes  me,  they 
let  clear  off:  as  for  me,  four  sabres  were  crossed  over  my 
breast,  and  they  led  me  down.  I  was  brought  to  their  bar ; 
to  the  Personage  with  the  scarf,  who  sat  as  judge  there.  He 
was  a  lame  man,  of  tall  lank  stature.  He  recognized  me  on 
the  streets  and  spoke  to  me,  seven  months  after.  I  have  been 
assured  that  he  was  son  of  a  retired  attorney,  and  named 
Chepy.  Crossing  the  Court  called  Des  Nourrices ,  I  saw 
Manuel  haranguing  in  tricolor  scarf.”  The  trial,  as  we  see, 
ends  in  acquittal  and  resurrection} 

Poor  Sicard,  from  the  violon  of  the  Abbaye,  shall  say  but  a 
few  words  ;  true-looking,  though  tremulous.  Towards  three 
in  the  morning,  the  killers  bethink  them  of  this  little  vio¬ 
lon  ;  and  knock  from  the  court.  “  I  tapped  gently,  trem¬ 
bling  lest  the  murderers  might  hear,  on  the  opposite  door, 
where  the  Section  Committee  was  sitting :  they  answered 
gruffly,  that  they  had  no  key.  There  were  three  of  us  in  this 
violon  ;  my  companions  thought  they  perceived  a  kind  of  loft 
overhead.  But  it  was  very  high  ;  only  one  of  us  could  reach 
it  by  mounting  on  the  shoulders  of  both  the  others.  One  of 
them  said  to  me,  that  my  life  was  usefuler  than  theirs  :  I 
resisted,  they  insisted :  no  denial !  I  fling  myself  on  the  neck 
of  these  two  deliverers ;  never  was  scene  more  touching.  I 
mount  on  the  shoulders  of  the  first,  then  on  those  of  the  sec¬ 
ond,  finally  on  the  loft ;  and  address  to  my  two  comrades  the 
expression  of  a  soul  overwhelmed  with  natural  emotions.”  2 
The  two  generous  companions,  we  rejoice  to  find,  did  not 
perish.  But  it  is  time  that  J ourgniac  de  Saint-Meard  should 
speak  his  last  words,  and  end  this  singular  trilogy.  The 
night  had  become  day ;  and  the  day  has  again  become  night. 
Jourgniac,  worn  down  with  uttermost  agitation,  was  fallen 
asleep,  and  had  a  cheering  dream :  he  has  also  contrived  to 
make  acquaintance  with  one  of  the  volunteer  bailiffs,  and 
spoken  in  native  Provencal  with  him.  On  Tuesday,  about  one 
in  the  morning,  his  Agony  is  reaching  its  crisis. 

1  Maton  de  la  Varenne,  Ma  Resurrection  (in  Hist.  Pari,  xviii.  135-156). 

2  Abbe  Sicard,  Relation  adressde  a  un  de  ses  amis  (Hist.  Pari,  xviii.  98-103). 


Chap.  V.  A  TRILOGY.  189 

September  4. 

“  By  the  glare  of  two  torches,  I  now  descried  the  terrible 
tribunal,  where  lay  my  life  or  my  death.  The  President,  in 
gray  coat,  with  a  sabre  at  his  side,  stood  leaning  with  his 
hands  against  a  table,  on  which  were  papers,  an  inkstand, 
tobacco-pipes  and  bottles.  Some  ten  persons  were  around, 
seated  or  standing ;  two  of  whom  had  jackets  and  aprons : 
others  were  sleeping  stretched  on  benches.  Two  men,  in 
bloody  shirts,  guarded  the  door  of  the  place ;  an  old  turnkey 
had  his  hand  on  the  lock.  In  front  of  the  President  three 
men  held  a  Prisoner,  who  might  be  about  sixty  [or  seventy  : 
he  was  old  Marshal  Maille,  of  the  Tuileries  and  August 
Tenth].  They  stationed  me  in  a  corner  ;  my  guards  crossed 
their  sabres  on  my  breast.  I  looked  on  all  sides  for  my  Pro- 
vengal:  two  National  Guards,  one  of  them  drunk,  presented 
some  appeal  from  the  Section  of  Croix  Rouge  in  favor  of  the 
Prisoner;  the  Man  in  Gray  answered:  ‘They  are  useless, 
these  appeals  for  traitors.’  Then  the  Prisoner  exclaimed : 
‘  It  is  frightful ;  your  judgment  is  a  murder.’  The  President 
answered :  ‘  My  hands  are  washed  of  it ;  take  M.  Maille 
away.’  They  drove  him  into  the  street ;  where,  through  the 
opening  of  the  door,  I  saw  him  massacred. 

“  The  President  sat  down  to  write  ;  registering,  I  suppose, 
the  name  of  this  one  whom  they  had  finished ;  then  I  heard 
him  say  :  ‘  Another,  Jl  un  autre  !  ’ 

“  Behold  me  then  haled  before  this  swift  and  bloody  judg¬ 
ment-bar,  where  the  best  protection  was  to  have  no  protection, 
and  all  resources  of  ingenuity  became  null  if  they  were  not 
founded  on  truth.  Two  of  my  guards  held  me  each  by  a 
hand,  the  third  by  the  collar  of  my  coat.  ‘Your  name,  your 
profession  ?  ’  said  the  President.  ‘  The  smallest  lie  ruins  you,’ 
added  one  of  the  Judges.  —  ‘My  name  is  Jourgniac  Saint- 
Meard ;  I  have  served,  as  an  officer,  twenty  years :  and  I 
appear  at  your  tribunal  with  the  assurance  of  an  innocent 
man,  who  therefore  will  not  lie.’  —  ‘We  shall  see  that,’  said 
the  President :  ‘  Do  you  know  why  you  are  arrested  ?  ’  —  ‘Yes, 
Monsieur  le  President;  I  am  accused  of  editing  the  Journal 
De  la,  Cour  et  de  la  Ville.  But  I  hope  to  prove  the  falsity.’  ” 
—  But  no;  Jourgniac’s  proof  of  the  falsity,  and  defence  gener- 


190  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

ally,  though  of  excellent  result  as  a  defence,  is  not  interesting 
to  read.  It  is  long-winded ;  there  is  a  loose  theatricality  in  the 
reporting  of  it,  which  does  not  amount  to  unveracity,  yet 
which  tends  that  way.  We  shall  suppose  him  successful, 
beyond  hope,  in  proving  and  disproving ;  and  skip  largely,  — 
to  the  catastrophe,  almost  at  two  steps. 

“  ‘  But  after  all/  said  one  of  the  Judges,  ‘  there  is  no  smoke 
without  kindling  ;  tell  us  why  they  accuse  you  of  that.’  —  ‘  I 
was  about  to  do  so  ’  ” —  Jourgniac  does  so;  with  more  and 
more  success. 

“‘Nay/  continued  I,  ‘they  accuse  me  even  of  recruiting  for 
the  Emigrants  ! ’  At  these  words  there  arose  a  general  mur¬ 
mur.  ‘  0  Messieurs,  Messieurs/  I  exclaimed,  raising  my  voice, 
‘  it  is  my  turn  to  speak ;  I  beg  M.  le  President  to  have  the 
kindness  to  maintain  it  for  me ;  I  never  needed  it  more.’  — 
‘  True  enough,  true  enough/  said  almost  all  the  Judges  with  a 
laugh  :  ‘  Silence !  ’ 

“  While  they  were  examining  the  testimonials  I  had  pro¬ 
duced,  a  new  Prisoner  was  brought  in,  and  placed  before  the 
President.  ‘  It  was  one  Priest  more/  they  said,  ‘  whom  they 
had  ferreted  out  of  the  Chapelle.’  After  very  few  questions  : 
‘  A  la  Force !  ’  He  flung  his  breviary  on  the  table ;  was 
hurled  forth,  and  massacred.  I  reappeared  before  the  tri¬ 
bunal. 

“‘You  tell  us  always/  cried  one  of  the  Judges,  with  a  tone 
of  impatience,  ‘  that  you  are  not  this,  that  you  are  not  that ; 
what  are  you,  then?’  —  ‘I  was  an  open  Royalist.’  —  There 
arose  a  general  murmur ;  which  was  miraculously  appeased  by 
another  of  the  men,  who  had  seemed  to  take  an  interest  in 
me:  ‘We  are  not  here  to  judge  opinions/  said  he,  ‘but  to 
judge  the  results  of  them.’  Could  Rousseau  and  Voltaire 
both  in  one,  pleading  for  me,  have  said  better?  —  ‘Yes,  Mes¬ 
sieurs/  cried  I,  ‘always  till  the  Tenth  of  August  I  wns  an 
open  Royalist.  Ever  since  the  Tenth  of  August  that  cause 
has  been  finished.  I  am  a  Frenchman,  true  to  my  country. 
I  was  always  a  man  of  honor.’  ” 

“  ‘  My  soldiers  never  distrusted  me.  Nay,  two  days  before 
that  business  of  Nanci,  when  their  suspicion  of  their  officers 


Chap.  VI.  THE  CIRCULAR  191 

September  4. 

was  at  its  height,  they  chose  me  for  commander,  to  le&d  them 
to  Luneville,to  get  back  the  prisoners  of  the  Regiment  Mestre- 
de-Camp,  and  seize  General  Malseigne?  ”  Which  fact  fihere  is, 
most  luckily,  an  individual  present  who  by  a  certain  token 
can  confirm. 

“The  President,  this  cross-questioning  being  over,  took  off: 
his  hat  and  said :  1 1  see  nothing  to  suspect  in  this  man :  I  am 
for  granting  him  his  liberty.  Is  that  your  vote  ?  ’  To  which 
all  the  Judges  answered :  6  Oui,  Oui  ;  it  is  just !  5  ” 

And  there  arose  vivats  within  doors  and  without ;  “  escort 
of  three,”  amid  shoutings  and  embracings  :  thus  Jourgniac 
escaped  from  jury-trial  and  the  jaws  of  death.1  Maion  and 
Sicard  did,  either  by  trial  and  no  bill  found,  lank  President 
Chepy  finding  “  absolutely  nothing ;  ”  or  else  by  evasion,  and 
new  favor  of  Moton  the  brave  watch-maker,  likewise  escape ; 
and  were  embraced  and  wept  over ;  weeping  in  return,  as 
they  well  might. 

Thus  they  three,  in  wondrous  trilogy,  or  triple  soliloquy : 
uttering  simultaneously,  through  the  dread  night-watches, 
their  Night-thoughts,  —  grown  audible  to  us  !  They  three 
are  become  audible :  but  the  other  “  thousand  and  eighty- 
nine,  of  whom  two  hundred  and  two  were  Priests,”  who  also 
had  Night-thoughts,  remain  inaudible ;  choked  forever  in 
black  Death.  Heard  only  of  President  Chepy  and  the  Man 
in  Gray !  — 


- 4 - 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  CIRCULAR. 

But  the  Constituted  Authorities,  all  this  while  ?  The 
Legislative  Assembly ;  the  Six  Ministers ;  the  Town-hall ; 
Santerre  with  the  National  Guard?  —  It  is  very  curious  to 
think  what  a  City  is.  Theatres,  to  the  number  of  some 
twenty-three,  were  open  every  night  during  these  prodigies ; 
1  Mon  Agonie  (ut  supra,  Hist.  Pari,  xviii.  128). 


192  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

while  right-arms  here  grew  weary  with  slaying,  right-arms 
there  were  twiddledeeing  on  melodious  catgut ;  at  the  very 
instant  when  Abbe  Sicard  was  clambering  up  his  second  pair 
of  shoulders  three-men  high,  five  hundred  thousand  human 
individuals  were  lying  horizontal,  as  if  nothing  were  amiss. 

As  for  the  poor  Legislative,  the  sceptre  had  departed  from 
it.  The  Legislative  did  send  Deputation  to  the  Prisons,  to 
these  Street-Courts  ;  and  poor  M.  Dusaulx  did  harangue  there  ; 
but  produced  no  conviction  whatsoever ;  nay  at  last,  as  he 
continued  haranguing,  the  Street-Court  interposed,  not  without 
threats  ;  and  he  had  to  cease,  and  withdraw.  This  is  the  same 
poor  worthy  old  M.  Dusaulx  who  told,  or  indeed  almost  sang 
(though  with  cracked  voice),  the  Taking  of  the  Bastille ,  to  our 
satisfaction,  long  since.  He  was  wont  to  announce  himself, 
on  such  and  on  all  occasions,  as  the  Translator  of  Juvenal. 
“  Good  Citizens,  you  see  before  you  a  man  who  loves  his 
country,  who  is  the  Translator  of  Juvenal/7  said  he  once.  — 
“  Juvenal?  77  interrupts  Sansculottism :  “Who  the  devil  is 
Juvenal?  One  of  your  sacres  Aristocrates?  To  the  Lan- 
terne  ! 77  From  an  orator  of  this  kind,  conviction  was  not  to  be 
expected.  The  Legislative  had  much  ado  to  save  one  of  its 
own  Members,  or  Ex-Members,  Deputy  Jounneau,  who  chanced 
to  be  lying  in  arrest  for  mere  Parliamentary  delinquencies,  in 
these  Prisons.  As  for  poor  old  Dusaulx  and  Company,  they 
returned  to  the  Salle  de  Manege,  saying,  “It  was  dark;  and 
they  could  not  see  well  what  was  going  on.77 1 

Roland  writes  indignant  messages,  in  the  name  of  Order, 
Humanity  and  the  Law ;  but  there  is  no  Force  at  his  disposal. 
Santerre’s  Rational  Force  seems  lazy  to  rise :  though  he  made 
requisitions,  he  says,  —  which  always  dispersed  again.  Ray 
did  not  we,  with  Advocate  Maton’s  eyes,  see  “men  in  uni¬ 
form  77  too,  with  their  “  sleeves  bloody  to  the  shoulder 77  ? 
Petion  goes  in  tricolor  scarf ;  speaks  “  the  austere  language 
of  the  law  : 77  the  killers  give  up,  while  he  is  there ;  when  his 
back  is  turned,  recommence.  Manuel  too  in  scarf  we,  with 
Maton’s  eyes,  transiently  saw  haranguing,  in  the  Court  called 
of  Rurses,  Cour  des  Nourrices.  On  the  other  hand,  cruel  Bil- 
1  Moniteiir,  Debate  of  2d  September,  1792. 


THE  CIRCULAR. 


193 


Chap.  VI. 

September  2-6. 

laud,  likewise  in  scarf,  “  with  that  small  puce  coat  and  black 
wig  we  are  used  to  on  him,”  1  audibly  delivers,  “  standing 
among  corpses,”  at  the  Abbaye,  a  short  but  ever-memorable 
harangue,  reported  in  various  phraseology,  but  always  to  this 
purpose:  “Brave  Citizens,  you  are  extirpating  the  Enemies 
of  Liberty  :  you  are  at  your  duty.  A  grateful  Commune  and 
Country  would  wish  to  recompense  you  adequately ;  but  can¬ 
not,  for  you  know  its  want  of  funds.  Whoever  shall  have 
worked  ( travaille )  in  a  Prison  shall  receive  a  draft  of  one 
louis,  payable  by  our  cashier.  Continue  your  work.”  2  The 
Constituted  Authorities  are  of  yesterday :  all  pulling  different 
ways :  there  is  properly  no  Constituted  Authority,  but  every 
man  is  his  own  King ;  and  all  are  kinglets,  belligerent,  allied, 
or  armed-neutral,  without  king  over  them. 

“  0  everlasting  infamy,”  exclaims  Montgaillard,  “  that  Paris 
stood  looking  on  in  stupor  for  four  days,  and  did  not  inter¬ 
fere  !  ”  Very  desirable  indeed  that  Paris  had  interfered ;  yet 
not  unnatural  that  it  stood  even  so,  looking  on  in  stupor. 
Paris  is  in  death-panic,  the  enemy  and  gibbets  at  its  door  : 
whosoever  in  Paris  has  the  heart  to  front  death,  finds  it  more 
pressing  to  do  it  fighting  the  Prussians,  than  fighting  the 
killers  of  Aristocrats.  Indignant  abhorrence,  as  in  Roland, 
may  be  here ;  gloomy  sanction,  premeditation  or  not,  as  in 
Marat  and  Committee  of  Salvation,  may  be  there  ;  dull  dis¬ 
approval,  dull  approval,  and  acquiescence  in  Necessity  and 
Destiny,  is  the  general  temper.  The  Sons  of  Darkness,  “  two 
hundred  or  so,”  risen  from  their  lurking-places,  have  scope  to 
do  their  work.  Urged  on  by  fever-frenzy  of  Patriotism,  and 
the  madness  of  Terror ;  —  urged  on  by  lucre,  and  the  gold 
louis  of  wages  ?  Nay,  not  lucre ;  for  the  gold  watches,  rings, 
money  of  the  Massacred,  are  punctually  brought  to  the  Town- 
hall,  by  Killers  sans-indispensables,  who  higgle  afterwards 
for  their  twenty  shillings  of  wages ;  and  Sergent  sticking  an 
uncommonly  fine  agate  on  his  finger  (fully  “  meaning  to  ac¬ 
count  for  it  ”)  becomes  Agate- Sergent.  But  the  temper,  as 
we  say,  is  dull  acquiescence.  Not  till  the  Patriotic  or  Fre- 

1  Mehee  Fils  (ut  supra,  in  Hist.  Pari,  xviii.  p.  189). 

2  Montgaillard,  iii.  191. 

VOL.  IV. 


13 


194  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

netic  part  of  the  work  is  finished  for  want  of  material  ;  and 
Sons  of  Darkness,  bent  clearly  on  lucre  alone,  begin  wrenching 
watches  and  purses,  brooches  from  ladies’  necks,  “  to  equip 
volunteers,”  in  daylight,  on  the  streets,  —  does  the  temper 
from  dull  grow  vehement ;  does  the  Constable  raise  his  trun¬ 
cheon,  and  striking  heartily  (like  a  cattle-driver  in  earnest) 
beat  the  “  course  of  things  ”  back  into  its  old  regulated  drove- 
roads.  The  Garde-Meuble  itself  was  surreptitiously  plundered, 
on  the  17th  of  the  month,  to  Roland’s  new  horror;  who  anew 
bestirs  himself,  and  is,  as  Sieyes  says,  “the  veto  of  scoun¬ 
drels,”  Roland  veto  cles  coquins.1 — 

This  is  the  September  Massacre,  otherwise  called  “Severe 
Justice  of  the  People.”  These  are  the  Septemberers  (Seqo- 
tembriseurs )  ;  a  name  of  some  note  and  lucency,  —  but  lucency 
of  the  Nether-fire  sort ;  very  different  from  that  of  our  Bas¬ 
tille  Heroes,  who  shone,  disputable  by  no  Friend  of  Freedom, 
as  in  Heavenly  light-radiance  :  to  such  phasis  of  the  business 
have  we  advanced  since  then !  The  numbers  massacred  are 
in  the  Historical  fantasy ,  “  between  two  and  three  thousand ;  ” 
or  indeed  they  are  “upwards  of  six  thousand,”  for  Peltier  (in 
vision)  saw  them  massacring  the  very  patients  of  the  Bicetre 
Madhouse  “  with  grape-shot ;  ”  nay  finally  they  are  “  twelve 
thousand  ”  and  odd  hundreds,  —  not  more  than  that.2  In 
Arithmetical  ciphers,  and  Lists  drawn  up  by  accurate  Advo¬ 
cate  Maton,  the  number,  including  two  hundred  and  two 
priests,  three  “  persons  unknown,”  and  “  one  thief  killed  at 
the  Bernardins,”  is,  as  above  hinted,  a  thousand  and  eighty- 
nine,  —  not  less  than  that. 

A  thousand  and  eighty-nine  lie  dead,  “two  hundred  and 
sixty  heaped  carcasses  on  the  Pont  au  Change  ”  itself ;  — 
among  which,  Robespierre  pleading  afterwards  will  “  nearly 
weep”  to  reflect  that  there  was  said  to  be  one  slain  inno¬ 
cent.3  One ;  not  two,  0  thou  sea-green  Incorruptible  ?  If 
so,  Themis  Sansculotte  must  be  lucky ;  for  she  was  brief ! 
—  In  the  dim  Registers  of  the  Town-hall,  which  are  preserved 
to  this  day,  men  read,  with  a  certain  sickness  of  heart,  items 

1  Helen  Maria  Williams,  iii.  27.  2  See  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  421,  422. 

3  Moniteur  of  6th  November  (Debate  of  5th  November,  1793). 


Chap.  VI.  THE  CIRCULAR.  195 

September  2-6. 

and  entries  not  usual  in  Town  Books :  “  To  workers  employed 
in  preserving  tlie  salubrity  of  the  air  in  the  Prisons,  and 
persons  who  presided  over  these  dangerous  operations,”  so 
much,  —  in  various  items,  nearly  seven  hundred  pounds  ster¬ 
ling.  To  carters  employed  to  “  the  Burying-grounds  of 
Clamart,  Montrouge  and  Vaugirard,”  at  so  much  a  journey, 
per  cart;  this  also  is  an  entry.  Then  so  many  francs  and 
odd  sous  “  for  the  necessary  quantity  of  quick-lime  ”  ! 1  Carts 
go  along  the  streets  ;  full  of  stript  human  corpses,  thrown 
pell-mell ;  limbs  sticking  up :  —  seest  thou  that  cold  Hand 
sticking  up,  through  the  heaped  embrace  of  brother  corpses, 
in  its  yellow  paleness,  in  its  cold  rigor ;  the  palm  opened  to¬ 
wards  Heaven,  as  if  in  dumb  prayer,  in  expostulation  de  pro- 
fundis,  Take  pity  on  the  Sons  of  Men  !  —  Mercier  saw  it,  as 
he  walked  down  “the  Rue  Saint- Jacques  from  Montrouge, 
on  the  morrow  of  the  Massacres :  ”  but  not  a  Hand ;  it  was 
a  Boot,  —  which  he  reckons  still  more  significant,  one  under¬ 
stands  not  well  why.  Or  was  it  as  the  Foot  of  one  spurning 
Heaven  ?  Rushing,  like  a  wild  diver,  in  disgust  and  despair, 
towards  the  depths  of  Annihilation?  Even  there  shall  His 
hand  find  thee,  and  His  right-hand  hold  thee,  —  surely  for 
right  not  for  wrong,  for  good  not  evil !  “  I  saw  that  Foot,” 

says  Mercier;  “I  shall  know  it  again  at  the  great  Day  of 
Judgment,  when  the  Eternal,  throned  on  his  thunders,  shall 
judge  both  Kings  and  Septemberers.”  2 

That  a  shriek  of  inarticulate  horror  rose  over  this  thing, 
not  only  from  French  Aristocrats  and  Moderates,  but  from 
all  Europe,  and  has  prolonged  itself  to  the  present  day,  was 
most  natural  and  right.  The  thing  lay  done,  irrevocable  ; 
a  thing  to  be  counted  beside  some  other  things,  which  lie  very 
black  in  our  Earth’s  Annals,  yet  which  will  not  erase  there¬ 
from.  For  man,  as  was  remarked,  has  transcendentalisms  in 
him  ;  standing,  as  he  does,  poor  creature,  every  way  “  in  the 
confluence  of  Infinitudes ;  ”  a  mystery  to  himself  and  others  : 
in  the  centre  of  two  Eternities,  of  three  Immensities,  —  in  the 

1  Etat  des  sommes  payees  par  la  Commune  de  Paris  (Hist.  Pari,  xviii.  231). 

3  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  vi.  21. 


196  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

intersection  of  primeval  Light  with  the  everlasting  Dark !  — 
Thus  have  there  been,  especially  by  vehement  tempers  reduced 
to  a  state  of  desperation,  very  miserable  things  done.  Sicilian 
Vespers,  and  “eight  thousand  slaughtered  in  two  hours,”  are  a 
known  thing.  Kings  themselves,  not  in  desperation,  but  only 
in  difficulty,  have  sat  hatching,  for  year  and  day  (nay  De  Thou 
says  for  seven  years),  their  Bartholomew  Business ;  and  then, 
at  the  right  moment,  also  on  an  Autumn  Sunday,  this  very 
Bell  (they  say  it  is  the  identical  metal)  of  Saint-G-ermain 
l’Auxerrois  was  set  a-pealing  —  with  effect.1  Kay  the  same 
black  boulder-stones  of  these  Paris  Prisons  have  seen  Prison 
massacres  before  now;  men  massacring  countrymen,  Burgun¬ 
dies  massacring  Armagnacs,  whom  they  had  suddenly  impris¬ 
oned,  till,  as  now,  there  were  piled  heaps  of  carcasses,  and  the 
streets  ran  red ;  —  the  Mayor  Petion  of  the  time  speaking  the 
austere  language  of  the  law,  and  answered  by  the  Killers,  in 
old  French  (it  is  some  four  hundred  years  old):  “ Maugre 
bleu,  Sire,  —  Sir,  God’s  malison  on  your  ‘justice,’  your  ‘pity,’ 
your  ‘right  reason.’  Cursed  be  of  God  whoso  shall  have 
pity  on  these  false  traitorous  Armagnacs,  English ;  dogs  they 
are  ;  they  have  destroyed  us,  wasted  this  realm  of  France,  and 
sold  it  to  the  English.”  2  And  so  they  slay,  and  fling  aside 
the  slain,  to  the  extent  of  “fifteen  hundred  and  eighteen, 
among  whom  are  found  four  Bishops  of  false  and  damnable 
counsel,  and  two  Presidents  of  Parlement.”  For  though  it  is 
not  Satan’s  world  this  that  we  live  in,  Satan  always  has  his 
place  in  it  (underground  properly) ;  and  from  time  to  time 
bursts  up.  Well  may  mankind  shriek,  inarticulately  anathe¬ 
matizing  as  they  can.  There  are  actions  of  such  emphasis 
that  no  shrieking  can  be  too  emphatic  for  them.  Shriek  ye  ; 
acted  have  they. 

Shriek  who  might  in  this  France,  in  this  Paris  Legislative 
or  Paris  Town-hall,  there  are  Ten  Men  who  do  not  shriek.  A 
Circular  goes  out  from  the  Committee  of  Salut  Public,  dated 
3d  of  September,  1792;  directed  to  all  Town-halls:  a  State- 
Paper  too  remarkable  to  be  overlooked.  “  A  part  of  the 

1  9tli  to  13th  September,  1572  (Dulaure,  Hist,  de  Paris ,  iv.  289). 

2  Dulaure,  iii.  494. 


197 


Chap.  VI.  THE  CIRCULAR 

September  3. 

ferocious  conspirators  detained  in  the  Prisons,”  it  says,  “  have 
been  put  to  death  by  the  People ;  and  we  cannot  doubt  but 
the  whole  Nation,  driven  to  the  edge  of  ruin  by  such  end¬ 
less  series  of  treasons,  will  make  haste  to  adopt  this  means 
of  public  salvation :  and  all  Frenchmen  will  cry  as  the  men 
of  Paris*  We  go  to  fight  the  enemy;  but  we  will  not  leave 
robbers  behind  us,  to  butcher  our  wives  and  children.”  To 
which  are  legibly  appended  these  signatures :  Panis ;  Ser- 
gent ;  Marat,  Friend  of  the  People ; 1  with  Seven  others ;  — 
carried  down  thereby,  in  a  strange  way,  to  the  late  remem¬ 
brance  of  Antiquarians.  We  remark,  however,  that  their 
Circular  rather  recoiled  on  themselves.  The  Town-halls  made 
no  use  of  it ;  even  the  distracted  Sansculottes  made  little ; 
they  only  howled  and  bellowed,  but  did  not  bite.  At  Rheims 
“  about  eight  persons  ”  were  killed ;  and  two  afterwards  were 
hanged  for  doing  it.  At  Lyons,  and  a  few  other  places,  some 
attempt  was  made ;  but  with  hardly  any  effect,  being  quickly 
put  down.  • 

Less  fortunate  were  the  Prisoners  of  Orleans ;  was  the  good 
Duke  de  La  Rochefoucauld.  He  journeying,  by  quick  stages, 
with  his  Mother  and  Wife,  towards  the  Waters  of  Forges, 
or  some  quieter  country,  was  arrested  at  Gisors  ;  conducted 
along  the  streets,  amid  effervescing  multitudes,  and  killed 
dead  “by  the  stroke  of  a  paving-stone  hurled  through  the 
coacli-window.”  Killed  as  a  once  Liberal  now  Aristocrat; 
Protector  of  Priests,  Suspender  of  virtuous  Petions,  and  most 
unfortunate  Hot-grown-cold,  detestable  to  Patriotism.  He 
dies  lamented  of  Europe;  his  blood  spattering  the  cheeks  of 
his  old  Mother,  ninety-three  years  old. 

As  for  the  Orleans  Prisoners,  they  are  State  Criminals : 
Royalist  Ministers,  Delessarts,  Montmorins ;  who  have  been 
accumulating  on  the  High  Court  of  Orleans,  ever  since  that 
Tribunal  was  set  up.  Whom  now  it  seems  good  that  we 
should  get  transferred  to  our  new  Paris  Court  of  the  Seven¬ 
teenth;  which  proceeds  far  quicker.  Accordingly  hot  Four¬ 
nier  from  Martinique,  Fournier  I’Americain,  is  off,  missioned 
by  Constituted  Authority ;  with  stanch  National  Guards,  with 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  433. 


198  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

Lazouski  the  Pole ;  sparingly  provided  with  road-money. 
These,  through  bad  quarters,  through  difficulties,  perils,  for 
Authorities  cross  each  other  in  this  time,  —  do  triumphantly 
bring  off  the  fifty  or  fifty-three  Orleans  Prisoners,  towards 
Paris ;  where  a  swifter  Court  of  the  Seventeenth  will  do  jus¬ 
tice  on  them.1  But  lo,  at  Paris,  in  the  interim,  a  stifl  swifter 
and  swiftest  Court  of  the  Secoiid ,  and  of  September,  has  insti¬ 
tuted  itself:  enter  not  Paris,  or  that  will  judge  you!  —  What 
shall  hot  Fournier  do  ?  It  was  his  duty,  as  volunteer  Con¬ 
stable,  had  he  been  a  perfect  character,  to  guard  those  men’s 
lives  never  so  Aristocratic,  at  the  expense  of  his  own  valuable 
life  never  so  Sansculottic,  till  some  Constituted  Court  had 
disposed  of  them.  But  he  was  an  imperfect  character  and 
Constable ;  perhaps  one  of  the  more  imperfect. 

Hot  Fournier,  ordered  to  turn  hither  by  one  Authority,  to 
turn  thither  by  another  Authority,  is  in  a  perplexing  multi¬ 
plicity  of  orders ;  but  finally  he  strikes  off  for  Versailles. 
His  Prisoners  fare  in  tumbrils,  or  open  carts,  himself  and 
Guards  riding  and  marching  around :  and  at  the  last  village, 
the  worthy  Mayor  of  Versailles  comes  to  meet  him,  anxious 
that  the  arrival  and  locking-up  were  well  over.  It  is  Sunday, 
the  ninth  day  of  the  month.  Lo,  on  entering  the  Avenue  of 
Versailles,  what  multitudes,  stirring,  swarming  in  the  Sep¬ 
tember  sun,  under  the  dull-green  September  foliage ;  the 
Four-rowed  Avenue  all  humming  and  swarming,  as  if  the 
Town  had  emptied  itself !  Our  tumbrils  roll  heavily  through 
the  living  sea;  the  Guards  and  Fournier  making  way  with 
ever  more  difficulty ;  the  Mayor  speaking  and  gesturing  his 
persuasivest ;  amid  the  inarticulate  growling  hum,  which 
growls  ever  the  deeper  even  by  hearing  itself  growl,  not 
without  sharp  yelpings  here  and  there:  —  Would  to  God  we 
were  out  of  this  strait  place,  and  wind  and  separation  had 
cooled  the  heat,  which  seems  about  igniting  here ! 

And  yet  if  the  wide  Avenue  is  too  strait,  what  will  the 
Street  de  Surintendance  be,  at  leaving  of  the  same  ?  At 
the  corner  of  Surintendance  Street,  the  compressed  yelpings 
become  a  continuous  yell :  savage  figures  spring  on  the 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  434. 


Chap  vr  THE  CIRCULAR.  199 

September  9. 

tumbril-shafts;  first  spray  of  an  endless  coming  tide!  The 
Mayor  pleads,  pushes,  half-desperate ;  is  pushed,  carried  off  in 
men’s  arms  :  the  savage  tide  has  entrance,  has  mastery.  Amid 
horrid  noise,  and  tumult  as  of  fierce  wolves,  the  Prisoners  sink 
massacred,  —  all  but  some  eleven,  who  escaped  into  houses, 
and  found  mercy.  The  Prisons,  and  what  other  Prisoners 
they  held,  were  with  difficulty  saved.  The  stript  clothes  are 
burnt  in  bonfire ;  the  corpses  lie  heaped  in  the  ditch  on  the 
morrow  morning.1  All  France,  except  it  be  the  Ten  Men  of 
the  Circular  and  their  people,  moans  and  rages,  inarticulately 
shrieking ;  all  Europe  rings. 

But  neither  did  Danton  shriek;  though,  as  Minister  of 
Justice,  it  was  more  his  part  to  do  so.  Brawny  Danton  is 
in  the  breach,  as  of  stormed  Cities  and  Nations ;  amid  the 
sweep  of  Tenth-of- August  cannon,  the  rustle  of  Prussian 
.  gallows-ropes,  the  smiting  of  September  sabres  ;  destruction 
all  round  him,  and  the  rushing-down  of  worlds :  Minister  of 
J ustice  is  his  name ;  but  Titan  of  the  Forlorn  Hope,  and 
Enfant  Perdu  of  the  Revolution,  is  his  quality,  —  and  the  man 
acts  according  to  that.  “We  must  put  our  enemies  in  fear!” 
Deep  fear,  is  it  not,  as  of  its  own  accord,  falling  on  our  ene¬ 
mies  ?  The  Titan  of  the  Forlorn  Hope,  he  is  not  the  man 
that  would  swiftest  of  all  prevent  its  so  falling.  Forward, 
thou  lost  Titan  of  an  Enfant  Perdu;  thou  must  dare,  and 
again  dare,  and  without  end  dare ;  there  is  nothing  left  for 
thee  but  that !  “  Que  mon  nom  soit  fletri,  Let  my  name  be 

blighted  :  ”  what  am  I  ?  The  Cause  alone  is  great ;  and  shall 
live,  and  not  perish.  —  So,  on  the  whole,  here  too  is  a  Swal¬ 
lower  of  Formulas ;  of  still  wider  gulp  than  Mirabeau :  this 
Danton,  Mirabeau  of  the  Sansculottes.  In  the  September  days, 
this  Minister  was  not  heard  of  as  co-operating  with  strict 
Roland;  his  business  might  lie  elsewhere,  —  with  Brunswick 
and  the  Hotel-de-Ville.  When  applied  to  by  an  official  per¬ 
son,  about  the  Orleans  Prisoners,  and  the  risks  they  ran,  he 
answered  gloomily,  twice  over,  “  Are  not  these  men  guilty  ?  ”  — 
When  pressed,  he  “  answered  in  a  terrible  voice,”  and  turned 

1  Pieces  officielles  relatives  au  massacre  des  Prisonniers  a  Versailles  (in  Hist 
Pari  xviii.  236-249), 


200  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

liis  back.1  A  thousand  slain  in  the  Prisons ;  horrible  if  you 
will ;  but  Brunswick  is  within  a  day’s  journey  of  us ;  and 
there  are  Five-and- twenty  Millions  yet,  to  slay  or  to  save. 
Some  men  have  tasks,  —  frightfuler  than  ours  !  It  seems 
strange,  but  is  not  strange,  that  this  Minister  of  Moloch- 
Justice,  when  any  suppliant  for  a  friend’s  life  got  access  to 
him,  was  found  to  have  human  compassion ;  and  yielded  and 
granted  “  always ;  ”  “  neither  did  one  personal  enemy  of 
Danton  perish  in  these  days.” 2 

To  shriek,  we  say,  when  certain  things  are  acted,  is  proper 
and  unavoidable.  Nevertheless,  articulate  speech,  not  shriek¬ 
ing,  is  the  faculty  of  man :  when  speech  is  not  yet  possi¬ 
ble,  let  there  be,  with  the  shortest  delay,  at  least — silence. 
Silence,  accordingly,  in  this  forty-fourth  year  of  the  business, 
and  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty-sixth  of  an  “  Era  called 
Christian  as  lucus  a  non,”  is  the  thing  we  recommend  and 
practise.  Nay,  instead  of  shrieking  more,  it  were  perhaps 
edifying  to  remark,  on  the  other  side,  what  a  singular  thing 
Customs  (in  Latin,  Mores )  are ;  and  how  fitly  the  Virtue,  Vir- 
tus,  Manhood  or  Worth,  that  is  in  a  man,  is  called  his  Morality 
or  Customariness.  Fell  Slaughter,  one  of  the  most  authentic 
products  of  the  Pit  you  would  say,  once  give  it  Customs,  be¬ 
comes  War,  with  Laws  of  War  ;  and  is  Customary  and  Moral 
enough ;  and  red  individuals  carry  the  tools  of  it  girt  round 
their  haunches,  not  without  an  air  of  pride,  —  which  do  thou 
nowise  blame.  While,  see !  so  long  as  it  is  but  dressed  in 
hodden  or  russet ;  and  Revolution,  less  frequent  than  War,  has 
not  yet  got  its  Laws  of  Revolution,  but  the  hodden  or  russet 
individuals  are  Uncustomary  —  0  shrieking  beloved  brother 
blockheads  of  Mankind,  let  us  close  those  wide  mouths  of 
ours  ;  let  us  cease  shrieking,  and  begin  considering  ! 


1  Biographie  des  Ministres,  p.  97. 


2  lb.  p.  103. 


Chap.  VII. 
September. 


IN  ARGONNE. 


201 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SEPTEMBER  IN  ARGONNE. 

Plain,  at  any  rate,  is  one  thing :  that  the  fear ,  whatever  of 
fear  those  Aristocrat  enemies  might  need,  has  been  brought 
about.  The  matter  is  getting  serious,  then !  Sansculottism 
too  has  become  a  Fact,  and  seems  minded  to  assert  itself  as 
such  ?  This  huge  moon-calf  of  Sansculottism,  staggering  about, 
as  young  calves  do,  is  not  mockable  only,  and  soft  like  another 
calf ;  but  terrible  too,  if  you  prick  it ;  and,  through  its  hideous 
nostrils,  blows  fire !  —  Aristocrats,  with  pale  panic  in  their 
hearts,  fly  towards  covert ;  and  a  light  rises  to  them  over 
several  things ;  or  rather  a  confused  transition  towards  light, 
whereby  for  the  moment  darkness  is  only  darker  than  ever. 
But  what  will  become  of  this  France  ?  Here  is  a  question ! 
France  is  dancing  its  desert-waltz,  as  Sahara  does  when  the 
winds  waken  ;  in  whirl-blasts  twenty -five  millions  in  number ; 
waltzing  towards  Town-halls,  Aristocrat  Prisons  and  Election 
Committee-rooms ;  towards  Brunswick  and  the  frontiers  ;  to¬ 
wards  a  New  Chapter  of  Universal  History ;  if  indeed  it  be 
not  the  Finis,  and  winding-up  of  that ! 

In  Election  Committee-rooms  there  is  now  no  dubiety ;  but 
the  work  goes  bravely  along.  The  Convention  is  getting 
chosen,  —  really  in  a  decisive  spirit ;  in  the  Town-hall  we 
already  date  First  year  of  the  Republic.  Some  two  hundred 
of  our  best  Legislators  may  be  re-elected,  the  Mountain  bodily: 
Robespierre,  with  Mayor  Petion,  Buzot,  Curate  Gregoire,  Ra- 
baut,  some  threescore  Old-Constituents  ;  though  we  once  had 
only  “  thirty  voices.”  All  these ;  and  along  with  them,  friends 
long  known  to  Revolutionary  fame :  Camille  Desmoulins, 
though  he  stutters  in  speech  :  Manuel,  Tallien  and  Company ; 
J ournalists  Gorsas,  Carra,  Mercier,  Louvet  of  Faublas  ;  Clootz 


202  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIY. 

1792. 

Speaker  of  Mankind;  Collot-d’Herbois,  tearing  a  passion  to 
rags;  Fabre  d’Eglantine,  speculative  Pamphleteer;  Legendre, 
the  solid  Butcher  ;  nay  Marat,  though  rural  France  can  hardly 
believe  it,  or  even  believe  that  there  is  a  Marat,  except  in 
print.  Of  Minister  Danton,  who  will  lay  down  his  Ministry 
for  a  Membership,  we  need  not  speak.  Paris  is  fervent ;  nor 
is  the  Country  wanting  to  itself.  Barbaroux,  Rebecqui,  and 
fervid  Patriots  are  coming  from  Marseilles.  Seven  hundred 
and  forty-five  men  (or  indeed  forty-nine,  for  Avignon  now 
sends  four)  are  gathering ;  so  many  are  to  meet ;  not  so  many 
are  to  part ! 

Attorney  Carrier  from  Aurillac,  Ex-Priest  Lebon  from  Arras, 
these  shall  both  gain  a  name.  Mountainous  Auvergne  re-elects 
her  Romme ;  hardy  tiller  of  the  soil,  once  Mathematical  Pro¬ 
fessor  ;  who,  unconscious,  carries  in  petto  a  remarkable  New 
Calendar ,  with  Messidors,  Pluvioses,  and  such  like  ;  —  and 
having  given  it  well  forth,  shall  depart  by  the  death  they  call 
Roman.  Sieves  Old-Constituent  comes  ;  to  make  new  Con- 
stitutions  as  many  as  wanted :  for  the  rest,  peering  out  of  his 
clear  cautious  eyes,  he  will  cower  low  in  many  an  emergency, 
and  find  silence  safest.  Young  Saint- Just  is  coming,  deputed 
by  Aisne  in  the  North;  more  like  a  Student  than  a  Senator; 
not  four-and-twenty  yet ;  who  has  written  Books  ;  a  youth  of 
slight  stature,  with  mild  mellow  voice,  enthusiast  olive-com¬ 
plexion  and  long  black  hair.  Feraud,  from  the  far  valley 
D’Aure  in  the  folds  of  the  Pyrenees,  is  coming;  an  ardent 
Republican ;  doomed  to  fame,  at  least  in  death. 

All  manner  of  Patriot  men  are  coming :  Teachers,  Husband¬ 
men,  Priests  and  Ex-Priests,  Traders,  Doctors  ;  above  all,  Talk¬ 
ers,  or  the  Attorney  species.  Man-midwiveS,  as  Levasseur  of 
the  Sartlie,  are  not  wanting.  Nor  Artists :  gross  David,  with 
the  swoln  cheek,  has  long  painted,  with  genius  in  a  state  of 
convulsion  ;  and  will  now  legislate.  The  swoln  cheek,  choking 
his  words  in  the  birth,  totally  disqualifies  him  as  an  orator ; 
but  his  pencil,  his  head,  his  gross  hot  heart,  with  genius  in  a 
state  of  convulsion,  will  be  there.  A  man  bodily  and  mentally 
swoln-cheeked,  disproportionate  ;  flabby-large,  instead  of  great; 
weak  withal  as  in  a  state  of  convulsion,  not  strong  in  a  state 


IN  ARGONNE. 


203 


Chav.  VII. 

September. 

of  composure  :  so  let  him  play  his  part.  Nor  are  naturalized 
Benefactors  of  the  Species  forgotten :  Priestley,  elected  by  the 
Orne  Department,  but  declining ;  Paine  the  rebellious  Needle- 
man,  by  the  Pas  de  Calais,  who  accepts. 

Pew  Nobles  come,  and  yet  not  none.  Paul-Frant^ois  Barras, 
“  noble  as  the  Barrases,  old  as  the  rocks  of  Provence ;  ”  he  is 
one.  The  reckless,  shipwrecked  man :  flung  ashore  on  the 
coast  of  the  Maldives  long  ago,  while  sailing  and  soldiering  as 
Indian  Fighter  :  flung  ashore  since  then,  as  hungry  Parisian 
pleasure-hunter  and  half-pay,  on  many  a  Circe  Island,  with 
temporary  enchantment,  temporary  conversion  into  beasthood 
and  hoghood; —  the  remote  Yar  Department  has  now  sent  him 
hither.  A  man  of  heat  and  haste ;  defective  in  utterance  ; 
defective  indeed  in  anything  to  utter ;  yet  not  without  a  cer¬ 
tain  rapidity  of  glance,  a  certain  swift  transient  courage ;  who 
in  these  times,  Fortune  favoring,  may  go  far.  He  is  tall, 
handsome  to  the  eye,  “only  the  complexion  a  little  yellow;” 
but  “  with  a  robe  of  purple,  with  a  scarlet  cloak  and  plume  of 
tricolor,  on  occasions  of  solemnity,”  the  man  will  look  well.1 
Lepelletier  Saint-Fargeau,  Old-Constituent,  is  a  kind  of  noble, 
and  of  enormous  wealth ;  he  too  has  come  hither  :  —  to  have 
the  Pain  of  Death  abolished  ?  Hapless  Ex-Parlementeer ! 
Nay  among  our  sixty  Old-Constituents,  see  Philippe  d’Orleans, 
a  Prince  of  the  Blood!  Not  now  D’  Orleans :  for,  Feudalism 
being  swept  from  the  world,  he  demands  of  his  worthy  friends 
the  Electors  of  Paris,  to  have  a  new  name  of  their  choosing ; 
whereupon  Procureur  Manuel,  like  an  antithetic  literary  man, 
recommends  1 Equality,  Egalite.  A  Philippe  Egalite  therefore 
will  sit ;  seen  of  the  Earth  and  Heaven. 

Such  a  Convention  is  gathering  itself  together.  Mere 
angry  poultry  in  moulting  season ;  whom  Brunswick’s  grena¬ 
diers  and  cannoneers  will  give  short  account  of.  Would  the 
weather,  as  Bertrand  is  always  praying,  only  mend  a  little  ! 2 


In  vain,  0  Bertrand  !  The  weather  will  not  mend  a  whit : 
nay  even  if  it  did  ?  Dumouriez  Polymetis,  though  Bertrand 

1  Dictionnaire  des  Homines  Marquans,  §  Barras. 

2  Bertrand-Moleville,  Memoires,  ii.  225. 


204  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

knows  it  not,  started  from  brief  slumber  at  Sedan,  on  that 
morning  of  the  29th  of  August ;  with  stealthiness,  with 
promptitude,  audacity.  Some  three  mornings  after  that, 
Brunswick,  opening  wide  eyes,  perceives  the  Passes  of  the 
Argonne  all  seized ;  blocked  with  felled  trees,  fortified  with 
camps  ;  and  that  it  is  a  most  shifty  swift  Dumouriez  this,  who 
has  outwitted  him  ! 

The  manoeuvre  may  cost  Brunswick  u  a  loss  of  three  weeks,” 
very  fatal  in  these  circumstances.  A  Mountain-wall  of  forty 
miles  lying  between  him  and  Paris  :  which  he  should  have 
preoccupied  ;  —  which  how  now  to  get  possession  of  ?  Also 
the  rain  it  raineth  every  day ;  and  we  are  in  a  hungry  Cham¬ 
pagne  Pouilleuse,  a  land  flowing  only  with  ditch-water.  How 
to  cross  this  Mountain-wall  of  the  Argonne ;  or  what  in  the 
world  to  do  with  it  ?  —  There  are  marchings  and  wet  splash- 
ings  by  steep  paths,  with  sackerments  and  guttural  interjec¬ 
tions  ;  forcings  of  Argonne  Passes,  —  which  unhappily  will 
not  force.  Through  the  woods,  volleying  War  reverberates, 
like  huge  gong-music,  or  Moloch’s  kettle-drum,  borne  by  the 
echoes ;  swoln  torrents  boil  angrily  round  the  foot  of  rocks, 
floating  pale  carcasses  of  men.  In  vain  !  Islettes  Village, 
with  its  church-steeple,  rises  intact  in  the  Mountain-pass, 
between  the  embosoming  heights ;  your  forced  marchings  and 
climbings  have  become  forced  siblings,  and  tumblings  back. 
From  the  hill-tops  thou  seest  nothing  but  dumb  crags,  and 
endless  wet  moaning  woods  ;  the  Clermont  Vache  (huge  Cow 
that  she  is)  disclosing  herself 1  at  intervals ;  flinging  off 
her  cloud-blanket,  and  soon  taking  it  on  again,  drowned  in 
the  pouring  Heaven.  The  Argonne  Passes  will  not  force ; 
you  must  skirt  the  Argonne  :  go  round  by  the  end  of  it. 

But  fancy  whether  the  Emigrant  Seigneurs  have  not  got 
their  brilliancy  dulled  a  little ;  whether  that  “  Foot  Regiment 
in  red-facings  with  nankeen  trousers  ”  could  be  in  field-day 
order  !  In  place  of  gasconading,  a  sort  of  desperation,  and 
hydrophobia  from  excess  of  water,  is  threatening  to  supervene. 
Young  Prince  de  Ligne,  son  of  that  brave  literary  De  Ligne 
the  Thunder-god  of  Dandies,  fell  backwards  ;  shot  dead  in 
1  See  Helen  Maria  Williams,  Letters,  iii.  79-81. 


IN  ARGONNE. 


205 


Chap.  VII. 

September. 

Grand-Pre,  the  Northmost  of  the  Passes  :  Brunswick  is  skirting 
and  rounding,  laboriously,  by  the  extremity  of  the  South.  Four 
days  ;  days  of  a  rain  as  of  Noah,  —  without  fire,  without  food  ! 
For  fire  you  cut  down  green  trees,  and  produce  smoke ;  for 
food  you  eat  green  grapes,  and  produce  colic,  pestilential  dys¬ 
entery,  oXckovto  Se  XaoL  And  the  Peasants  assassinate  us, 
they  do  not  join  us  ;  shrill  women  cry  shame  on  us,  threaten 
to  draw  their  very  scissors  on  us  !  0  ye  hapless  dull-bright 

Seigneurs,  and  hydrophobic  splashed  Nankeens  ;  — but  oh,  ten 
time  more,  ye  poor  sackermenti ng  ghastly-visaged  Hessians 
and  Hulans,  fallen  on  your  backs  ;  who  had  no  call  to  die 
there,  except  compulsion  and  three  halfpence  a  day !  Nor 
has  Mrs.  Le  Blanc  of  the  Golden  Arm  a  good  time  of  it,  in 
her  bower  of  dripping  rushes.  Assassinating  Peasants  are 
hanged;  Old-Constituent  Honorable  Members,  though  of  ven¬ 
erable  age,  ride  in  carts  with  their  hands  tied ;  these  are  the 
woes  of  war. 

Thus  they  ;  sprawling  and  wriggling,  far  and  wide,  on  the 
slopes  and  passes  of  the  Argonne ;  —  a  loss  to  Brunswick  of 
five-and-twenty  disastrous  days.  There  is  wriggling  and 
struggling ;  facing,  backing  and  right-about  facing ;  as  the 
positions  shift,  and  the  Argonne  gets  partly  rounded,  partly 
forced :  —  but  still  Dumouriez,  force  him,  round  him  as  you 
will,  sticks  like  a  rooted  fixture  on  the  ground ;  fixture  with 
many  hinges ;  wheeling  now  this  way,  now  that ;  showing 
always  new  front,  in  the  most  unexpected  manner :  nowise 
consenting  to  take  himself  away.  Recruits  stream  up  on 
him  :  full  of  heart ;  yet  rather  difficult  to  deal  wdth.  Behind 
Grand-Pre,  for  example,  Grand-Pre  which  is  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  Argonne,  for  we  are  now  forced  and  rounded,  — 
the  full  heart,  in  one  of  those  wheelings  and  showings  of 
new  front,  did  as  it  were  overset  itself,  as  full  hearts  are 
liable  to  do ;  and  there  rose  a  shriek  of  sauve  qui  peut,  and  a 
death-panic  which  had  nigh  ruined  all !  So  that  the  General 
had  to  come  galloping;  and,  with  thunder-words,  with  ges¬ 
ture,  stroke  of  drawn  sword  even,  check  and  rally,  and  bring 
back  the  sense  of  shame  ; 1  —  nay  to  seize  the  first  shriekers 

1  Dumouriez,  Mtfnioires,  iii.  29. 


206  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

and  ringleaders  ;  “  shave  their  heads  and  eyebrows,”  and  pack 
them  forth  into  the  world  as  a  sign.  Thus  too  (for  really 
the  rations  are  short,  and  wet  camping  with  hungry  stomach 
brings  bad  humor)  there  is  like  to  be  mutiny.  Whereupon 
again  Dumouriez  “  arrives  at  the  head  of  their  line,  with  his 
staff,  and  an  escort  of  a  hundred  hussars.  He  had  placed 
some  squadrons  behind  them,  the  artillery  in  front ;  he  said 
to  them :  1  As  for  you,  for  I  will  neither  call  you  citizens, 
nor  soldiers,  nor  my  men  (ni  mes  enfans),  you  see  before  you 
this  artillery,  behind  you  this  cavalry.  You  have  dishon¬ 
ored  yourselves  by  crimes.  If  you  amend,  and  grow  to 
behave  like  this  brave  Army  which  you  have  the  honor 
of  belonging  to,  you  will  find  in  me  a  good  father.  But 
plunderers  and  assassins  I  do  not  suffer  here.  At  the 
smallest  mutiny  I  will  have  you  shivered  in  pieces  (hacher  en 
pieces).  Seek  out  the  Scoundrels  that  are  among  you,  and  dis¬ 
miss  them  yourselves  ;  I  hold  you  responsible  for  them.’  ” 1 
Patience,  0  Dumouriez  !  This  uncertain  heap  of  shriekers, 
mutineers,  were  they  once  drilled  and  inured,  will  become  a 
phalanxed  mass  of  Fighters  ;  and  wheel  and  whirl,  to  order, 
swiftly  like  the  wind  or  the  whirlwind :  tanned  mustachio- 
figures ;  often  bare-foot,  even  bare-backed ;  with  sinews  of 
iron ;  who  require  only  bread  and  gunpowder :  very  Sons  of 
Fire,  the  adroitest,  hastiest,  hottest  ever  seen  perhaps  since 
Attila’s  time.  They  may  conquer  and  overrun  amazingly, 
much  as  that  same  Attila  did ;  —  whose  Attila’s-Camp  and 
Battle-field  thou  now  seest,  on  this  very  ground ; 2  who,  after 
sweeping  bare  the  world,  was,  with  difficulty,  and  days  of 
tough  fighting,  checked  here  by  Roman  .ZEtius  and  Fortune ; 
and  his  dust-cloud  made  to  vanish  in  the  East  again !  — 

Strangely  enough,  in  this  shrieking  Confusion  of  a  Sol¬ 
diery,  which  we  saw  long  since  fallen  all  suicidally  out  of 
square,  in  suicidal  collision,  —  at  Nanci,  or  on  the  streets 
of  Metz,  where  brave  Bouille  stood  with  drawn  sword ;  and 
which  has  collided  and  ground  itself  to  pieces  worse  and 
worse  ever  since,  down  now  to  such  a  state  :  in  this  shriek¬ 
ing  Confusion,  and  not  elsewhere,  lies  the  first  germ  of  re- 
1  Dumouriez,  M&noires,  iii.  55.  2  Helen  Maria  Williams,  iii.  32. 


IN  ARGONNE. 


207 


Chap.  VII. 

September. 

turning  Order  for  France  !  Round  which,  we  say,  poor  France 
nearly  all  ground  down  suicidally  likewise  into  rubbish  and 
Chaos,  will  be  glad  to  rally;  to  begin  growing,  and  new¬ 
shaping  her  inorganic  dust ;  very  slowly,  through  centuries, 
through  Napoleons,  Louis-Philippes,  and  other  the  like  media 
and  phases,  — into  a  new,  infinitely  preferable  France,  we  can 
hope ! — 


These  wheelings  and  movements  in  the  region  of  the  Ar- 
gonne,  which  are  all  faithfully  described  by  Dumouriez  him¬ 
self,  and  more  interesting  to  us  than  Hoyle’s  or  Philidor’s  best 
Game  of  Chess,  let  us  nevertheless,  0  Reader,  entirely  omit ;  — 
and  hasten  to  remark  two  things :  the  first  a  minute  private, 
the  second  a  large  public  thing.  Our  minute  private  thing  is : : 
the  presence,  in  the  Prussian  host,  in  that  war-game  of  the 
Argonne,  of  a  certain  Man,  belonging  to  the  sort  called  Im¬ 
mortal  ;  who,  in  days  since  then,  is  becoming  visible  more  and- 
more  in  that  character,  as  the  Transitory  more  and  more  van¬ 
ishes :  for  from  of  old  it  was  remarked  that  when  the  Gods, 
appear  among  men,  it  is  seldom  in  recognizable  shape ;  thus . 
Admetus’s  neat-herds  give  Apollo  a  draught  of  their  goatskin; 
whey-bottle  (well  if  they  do  not  give  him  strokes  with  their 
oxrungs),  not  dreaming  that  he  is  the  Sun-god !  This  man’s 
name  is  Jolmnn  Wolfgang  von  Goethe.  He  is  Herzog  Weimar’s 
Minister,  come  with  the  small  contingent  of  Weimar;  to  do^ 
insignificant  unmilitary  duty  here ;  very  irrecognizable  to 
nearly  all!  He  stands  at  present,  with  drawn  bridle,  on  the 
height  near  Sainte-Menehould,  making  an  experiment  on  the 
“cannon-fever;”  having  ridden  thither  against  persuasion, 
into  the  dance  and  firing  of  the  cannon-balls,  with  a  scientific: 
desire  to  understand  what  that  same  cannon-fever  may  be  : 
“  The  sound  of  them,”  says  he,  “  is  curious  enough  ;  as  if  it 
were  compounded  of  the  humming  of  tops,  the  gurgling  of 
water  and  the  whistle  of  birds.  By  degrees  you  get  a  very 
uncommon  sensation ;  which  can  only  be  described  by  simili¬ 
tude.  It  seems  as  if  you  were  in  some  place  extremely  hot, 
and  at  the  same  time  were  completely  penetrated  by  the  heat 
of  it ;  so  that  you  feel  as  if  you  and  this  element  you  are  in 


208  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

were  perfectly  on  a  par.  The  eyesight  loses  nothing  of  its 
strength  or  distinctness  ;  and  yet  it  is  as  if  all  things  had  got 
a  kind  of  brown-red  color,  which  makes  the  situation  and  the 
objects  still  more  impressive  on  you.” 1 

This  is  the  cannon-fever,  as  a  World-Poet  feels  it.  —  A  man 
entirely  irrecognizable  !  In  whose  irrecognizable  head,  mean¬ 
while,  there  verily  is  the  spiritual  counterpart  (and  call  it 
complement)  of  this  same  huge  Death-Birth  of  the  World ; 
which  now  effectuates  itself,  outwardly  in  the  Argonne,  in  such 
cannon-thunder ;  inwardly,  in  the  irrecognizable  head,  quite 
otherwise  than  by  thunder  !  Mark  that  man,  0  Reader,  as  the 
memorablest  of  all  the  memorable  in  this  Argonne  Campaign. 
What  we  say  of  him  is  not  dream,  nor  flourish  of  rhetoric,  but 
scientific  historic  fact;  as  many  men,  now  at  this  distance, 
see  or  begin  to  see. 

But  the  large  public  thing  we  had  to  remark  is  this  :  That 
the  20th  of  September,  1792,  was  a  raw  morning  covered  with 
mist ;  that  from  three  in  the  morning,  Sainte-Menehould,  and 
those  Villages  and  homesteads  we  know  of  old,  were  stirred 
by  the  rumble  of  artillery-wagons,  by  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and 
many-footed  tramp  of  men  :  all  manner  of  military,  Patriot 
and  Prussian,  taking  up  positions,  on  the  Heights  of  La  Lune 
and  other  Heights  ;  shifting  and  shoving,  —  seemingly  in  some 
dread  chess-game ;  which  may  the  Heavens  turn  to  good ! 
The  Miller  of  Valmy  has  fled  dusty  under  ground ;  his  Mill, 
were  it  never  so  windy,  will  have  rest  to-day.  At  seven  in  the 
morning  the  mist  clears  off :  see  Kellermann,  Dumouriez’ 
second  in  command,  with  “  eighteen  pieces  of  cannon,”  and 
deep-serried  ranks,  drawn  up  round  that  same  silent  Wind¬ 
mill,  on  his  knoll  of  strength ;  Brunswick,  also  with  serried 
ranks  and  cannon,  glooming  over  to  him  from  the  Height  of 
La  Lune  :  only  the  little  brook  and  its  little  dell  now  parting 
them. 

So  that  the  much-longed-for  has  come  at  last !  Instead  of 
hunger  and  dysentery,  we  shall  have  sharp  shot ;  and  then  !  — 
Dumouriez,  with  force  and  firm  front,  looks  on  from  a  neigh¬ 
boring  height ;  can  help  only  with  his  wishes,  in  silence.  Lo, 
1  Goethe,  Campagne  in  Frankreich  (  Werke,  xxx.  73). 


Chap.  VII.  IN  ARGONNE.  209 

September  20. 

the  eighteen  pieces  do  bluster  and  bark,  responsive  to  the 
bluster  6f  La  Lune  ;  and  thunder-clouds  mount  into  the  air ; 
and  echoes  roar  through  all  dells,  far  into  the  depths  of  Ar- 
gonne  Wood  (deserted  now)  ;  and  limbs  and  lives  of  men  fly 
dissipated,  this  way  and  that.  Can  Brunswick  make  an  im¬ 
pression  on  them  ?  The  dulled-bright  Seigneurs  stand  biting 
their  thumbs  ;  these  Sansculottes  seem  not  to  fly  like  poultry  ! 
Towards  noontide  a  cannon-shot  blows  Kellermann’s  horse 
from  under  him ;  there  bursts  a  powder-cart  high  into  the  air, 
with  knell  heard  over  all :  some  swagging  and  swaying  ob¬ 
servable  ;  —  Brunswick  will  try  !  “  Camarades ,”  cries  Keller- 

mann,  “  Vive  la  Patrie  !  Allons  vainer e  pour  elle,  Come  let  us 
conquer  for  her.”  “  Live  the  Fatherland  !  ”  rings  responsive 
to  the  welkin,  like  rolling-fire  from  side  to  side  :  our  ranks  are 
as  firm  as  rocks  ;  and  Brunswick  may  recross  the  dell,  inef¬ 
fectual  ;  regain  his  old  position  on  La  Lune :  not  unbattered 
by  the  way.  An#d  so,  for  the  length  of  a  September  day,  — 
with  bluster  and  bark ;  with  bellow  far-echoing  !  The  cannon¬ 
ade  lasts  till  sunset ;  and  no  impression  made.  Till  an  hour 
after  sunset,  the  few  remaining  Clocks  of  the  District  striking 
Seven ;  at  this  late  time  of  day  Brunswick  tries  again.  With 
not  a  whit  better  fortune !  He  is  met  by  rock-ranks,  by  shout 
of  Vive  la  Patrie  ;■  and  driven  back,  not  unbattered.  Where¬ 
upon  he  ceases ;  retires  “  to  the  Tavern  of  La  Lune ;  ”  and 
sets  to  raising  a  redoubt  lest  he  be  attacked ! 

Verily  so,  ye  dulled-bright  Seigneurs,  make  of  it  what  ye 
may.  Ah,  and  France  does  not  rise  round  us  in  mass ;  and 
the  Peasants  do  not  join  us,  but  assassinate  us :  neither  hang¬ 
ing  nor  any  persuasion  will  induce  them  !  They  have  lost 
their  old  distinguishing  love  of  King  and  King’s-cloak, — I 
fear,  altogether ;  and  will  even  fight  to  be  rid  of  it :  that 
seems  now  their  humor.  Nor  does  Austria  prosper,  nor  the 
siege  of  Thionville.  The  Thionvillers,  carrying  their  insolence 
to  the  epigrammatic  pitch,  have  put  a  Wooden  Horse  on  their 
walls,  with  a  bundle  of  Hay  hung  from  him,  and  this  Inscrip¬ 
tion  :  “  When  I  finish  my  hay,  you  will  take  Thionville.”  1 
To  such  height  has  the  frenzy  of  mankind  risen. 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xix.  177. 

VOL.  iv.  14 


210  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

The  trenches  of  Thionville  may  shut ;  and  what  though 
those  of  Lille  open  ?  The  Earth  smiles  not  on  us,  nor  the 
Heaven ;  but  weeps  and  blears  itself,  in  sour  rain,  and  worse. 
Our  very  friends  insult  us  ;  we  are  wounded  in  the  house  of 
our  friends  :  “His  Majesty  of  Prussia  had  a  great-coat,  when 
the  rain  came ;  and  (contrary  to  all  known  laws)  he  put  it  on, 
though  our  two  French  Princes,  the  hope  of  their  country,  had 
none !  ”  To  which  indeed,  as  Goethe  admits,  what  answer 
could  be  made  ? 1  —  Cold  and  Hunger  and  Affront,  Colic  and 
Dysentery  and  Death  ;  and  we  here,  cowering  redoubted ,  most 
unredoubtable,  amid  the  “  tattered  cornshocks  and  deformed 
stubble,”  on  the  splashy  Height  of  La  Lune,  round  the  mean 
Tavern  de  la  Lune  ! 

This  is  the  Cannonade  of  Valmy;  wherein  the  World-Poet 
experimented  on  the  cannon-fever  ;  wherein  the  French  Sans¬ 
culottes  did  not  fly  like  poultry.  Precious  to  France !  Every 
soldier  did  his  duty,  and  Alsaciah  Kellermann  (how  preferable 
to  old  Luckner  the  dismissed  !)  began  to  become  greater ;  and 
figalite  Fils,  Equality  Junior,  a  light  gallant  Field-Officer,  dis¬ 
tinguished  himself  by  intrepidity :  —  it  is  the  same  intrepid 
individual  who  now,  as  Louis-Philippe,  without  the  Equality, 
struggles,  under  sad  circumstances,  to  be  called  King  of  the 
French  for  a  season. 


- » 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

EXEUNT. 

But  this  Twentieth  of  September  is  otherwise  a  great  day. 
For,  observe,  while  Kellermann’s  horse  was  flying  blown  from 
under  him  at  the  Mill  of  Yalmy,, our  new  National  Deputies, 
that  shall  be  a  National  Convention,  are  hovering  and 
gathering  about  the  Hall  of  the  Hundred  Swiss :  with  intent 
to  constitute  themselves  ! 

1  Goethe,  xxx.  49. 


Chap.  VIII.  EXEUNT.  211 

September  20. 

On  the  morrow,  about  noontide,  Camus  the  Archivist  is  busy 
"verifying  their  powers  ;  ”  several  hundreds  of  them  already 
here.  Whereupon  the  Old  Legislative  comes  solemnly  over, 
to  merge  its  old  ashes  phoenix-like  in  the  body  of  the  new  ;  — 
and  so  forthwith,  returning  all  solemnly  back  to  the  Salle  de 
Manege,  there  sits  a  National  Convention,  seven  hundred  and 
forty-nine  complete,  or  complete  enough ;  presided  by  Petion ; 

—  which  proceeds  directly  to  do  business.  Lead  that  reported 
afternoon’s-debate,  0  Reader;  there  are  few  debates  like  it: 
dull  reporting  Moniteur  itself  becomes  more  dramatic  than  a 
very  Shakspeare.  For  epigrammatic  Manuel  rises,  speaks 
strange  things ;  how  the  President  shall  have  a  guard  of  honor, 
and  lodge  in  the  Tuileries  :  —  rejected.  And  Danton  rises  and 
speaks ;  and  Collot-d’Herbois  rises,  and  Curate  Gregoire,  and 
lame  Couthon  of  the  Mountain  rises  ;  and  in  rapid  Meliboean 
stanzas,  only  a  few  lines  each,  they  propose  motions  not  a  few  : 
That  the  corner-stone  of  our  new  Constitution  is,  Sovereignty 
of  the  People  ;  that  our  Constitution  shall  be  accepted  by  the 
People  or  be  null ;  further  that  the  People  ought  to  be  avenged, 
and  have  right  Judges ;  that  the  Imposts  must  continue  till 
new  order  ;  that  Landed  and  other  Property  be  sacred  forever ; 
finally  that  "  Royalty  from  this  day  is  abolished  in  France :  ” — 
Decreed  all,  before  four  o’clock  strike,  with  acclamation  of  the 
world !  1  The  tree  was  all  so  ripe  ;  only  shake  it,  and  there 
fall  such  yellow  cart-loads. 

And  so  over  in  the  Valmy  Region,  as  soon  as  the  news  come, 
what  stir  is  this,  audible,  visible  from  our  muddy  Heights  of 
La  Lane  ?  2  Universal  shouting  of  the  French  on  their  oppo¬ 
site  hill-side ;  caps  raised  on  bayonets :  and  a  sound  as  of 
Republique :  Vive  la  Republique  borne  dubious  on  the  winds  ! 

—  On  the  morrow  morning,  so  to  speak,  Brunswick  slings  his 
knapsacks  before  day,  lights  any  fires  he  has  ;  and  marches 
without  tap  of  drum.  Dumouriez  finds  ghastly  symptoms  in 
that  camp ;  “  latrines  full  of  blood  ”  ! 3  The  chivalrous  King 
of  Prussia  —  for  he,  as  we  saw,  is  here  in  person  —  may  long 

1  Hist.  Pari,  xix,  19.  2  Williams,  iii.  71, 

8  1st  October,  1792:  Dumouriez,  iii.  73. 


212  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

rue  the  day ;  may  look  colder  than  ever  on  these  dulled-bright 
Seigneurs,  and  French  Princes  their  Country’s  hope ;  —  and,  on 
the  whole,  put  on  his  great-coat  without  ceremony,  happy  that 
he  has  one.  They  retire,  all  retire  with  convenient  despatch, 
through  a  Champagne  trodden  into  a  quagmire,  the  wild 
weather  pouring  on  them  :  Dumouriez,  through  his  Keller- 
manns  and  Dillons,  pricking  them  a  little  in  the  hinder  parts. 
A  little,  not  much  ;  now  pricking,  now  negotiating ;  for  Bruns¬ 
wick  has  his  eyes  opened ;  and  the  Majesty  of  Prussia  is  a 
repentant  Majesty. 

Nor  has  Austria  prospered ;  nor  the  Wooden  Horse  of  Thion- 
ville  bitten  his  hay ;  nor  Lille  City  surrendered  itself.  The 
Lille  trenches  opened  on  the  29th  of  the  month ;  with  balls 
and  shells,  and  red-hot  balls ;  as  if  not  trenches  but  Vesuvius 
and  the  Pit  had  opened.  It  was  frightful,  say  all  eye-wit¬ 
nesses  ;  but  it  is  ineffectual.  The  Lillers  have  risen  to  such 
temper ;  especially  after  these  news  from  Argonne  and  the 
East.  Not  a  Sans-indispensables  in  Lille  that  would  surrender 
for  a  King’s  ransom.  Red-hot  balls  rain,  day  and  night ;  “  six 
thousand,”  or  so,  and  bombs  “  filled  internally  with  oil  of 
turpentine  which  splashes  up  in  flame ;  ”  —  mainly  on  the 
dwellings  of  the  Sansculottes  and  Poor ;  the  streets  of  the 
Rich  being  spared.  But  the  Sansculottes  get  water-pails ;  form 
quenching-regulations :  “  The  ball  is  in  Peter’s  house  !  ”  “  The 
ball  is  in  John’s!”  They  divide  their  lodging  and  substance 
with  each  other ;  shout  Vive  la  Republique ;  and  faint  not  in 
heart.  A  ball  thunders  through  the  main  chamber  of  the 
Hotel-de-Ville  while  the  Commune  is  there  assembled:  “We 
are  in  permanence,”  says  one  coldly,  proceeding  with  his  busi¬ 
ness  ;  and  the  ball  remains  permanent  too,  sticking  in  the  wall, 
probably  to  this  day.1 

The  Austrian  Archduchess  (Queen’s  Sister)  will  herself  see 
red  artillery .  fired :  in  their  over-haste  to  satisfy  an  Arch¬ 
duchess,  “  two  mortars  explode  and  kill  thirty  persons.”  It  is 
in  vain  ;  Lille,  often  burning,  is  always  quenched  again ;  Lille 
will  not  yield.  The  very  boys  deftly  wrench  the  matches  out 
of  fallen  bombs  :  “  a  man  clutches  a  rolling  ball  with  his  hat, 

1  Bombardement  de  Lille  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xx.  63-71). 


Chap.  VIII.  EXEUNT.  213 

October  11. 

which  takes  fire ;  when  cool,  they  crown  it  with  a  bonnet  rouge.” 
Memorable  also  be  that  nimble  Barber,  who  when  the  bomb 
burst  beside  him,  snatched  up  a  sherd  of  it,  introduced  soap 
and  lather  into  it,  crying,  “  Voila  mon  plat  a  barbe,  My  new 
shaving-dish  !  ”  and  shaved  “  fourteen  people  ”  on  the  spot. 
Bravo,  thou  nimble  Shaver ;  worthy  to  shave  old  spectral  Bed- 
cloak,  and  find  treasures  !  —  On  the  eighth  day  of  this  desperate 
siege,  the  sixth  day  of  October,  Austria,  finding  it  fruitless, 
draws  off,  with  no  pleasurable  consciousness  ;  rapidly,  Du- 
mouriez  tending  thitherward ;  and  Lille  too,  black  with  ashes 
and  smoulder,  but  jubilant  sky-high,  flings  its  gates  open.  The 
Plat  a  barbe  became  fashionable ;  “  no  Patriot  of  an  elegant 
turn,”  says  Mercier  several  years  afterwards,  “but  shaves 
himself  out  of  the  splinter  of  a  Lille  bomb.” 

Quid  multa ,  Why  many  words  ?  The  Invaders  are  in 
flight ;  Brunswick’s  Host,  the  third  part  of  it  gone  to  death, 
staggers  disastrous  along  the  deep  highways  of  Champagne ; 
spreading  out  also  into  “the  fields  of  a  tough  spongy  red- 
colored  clay  :  ”  —  “  like  Pharaoh  through  a  Bed  Sea  of  mud,” 
says  Goethe ;  “  for  here  also  lay  broken  chariots,  and  riders 
and  foot  seemed  sinking  aiiound.” 1  On  the  eleventh  morning 
of  October,  the  World-Poet,  struggling  Northwards  out  of 
Verdun,  which  he  had  entered  Southwards,  some  five  weeks 
ago,  in  quite  other  order,  discerned  the  following  Phenomenon 
and  formed  part  of  it  :  — 

“  Towards  three  in  the  morning,  without  having  had  any 
sleep,  we  were  about  mounting  our  carriage,  drawn  up  at  the 
door  j  when  an  insuperable  obstacle  disclosed  itself :  for  there 
rolled  on  already,  between  the  pavement-stones  which  were 
crushed  up  into  a  ridge  on  each  side,  an  uninterrupted  column 
of  sick-wagons  through  the  Town,  and  all  was  trodden  as  into 
a  morass.  While  we  stood  waiting  what  could  be  made  of  it, 
our  Landlord  the  Knight  of  Saint-Louis  pressed  past  us,  with¬ 
out  salutation.”  He  had  been  a  Calonne’s  Notable  in  1787, 
an  Emigrant  since  ;  had  returned  to  his  home,  jubilant,  with 
the  Prussians ;  but  must  now  forth  again  into  the  wide 

1  Campagne  in  Frankreich,  p.  103. 


214  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

world,  “  followed  by  a  servant  carrying  a  little  bundle  on  his 
stick.” 

f*  The  activity  of  our  alert  Lisieux  shone  eminent,  and  on 
this  occasion  too  brought  us  on:  for  he  struck  into  a  small 
gap  of  the  wagon-row ;  and  held  the  advancing  team  back  till 
we,  with  our  six  and  our  four  horses,  got  intercalated ;  after 
which,  in  my  light  little  coachlet,  I  could  breathe  freer.  We 
were  now  under  way ;  at  a  funeral  pace,  but  still  under  way. 
The  day  broke  ;  we  found  ourselves  at  the  outlet  of  the 
Town,  in  a  tumult  and  turmoil  without  measure.  All  sorts  of 
vehicles,  few  horsemen,  innumerable  foot-people,  were  cross¬ 
ing  each  other  on  the  great  esplanade  before  the  Gate.  We 
turned  to  the  right,  with  our  Column,  towards  Estain,  on  a 
limited  highway,  with  ditches  at  each  side.  Self-preservation, 
in  so  monstrous  a  press,  knew  now  no  pity,  no  respect  of 
aught.  Not  far  before  us  there  fell  down  a  horse  of  an  ammu¬ 
nition-wagon  ;  they  cut  the  traces,  and  let  it  lie.  And  now 
as  the  three  others  could  not  bring  their  load  along,  they  cut 
them  also  loose,  tumbled  the  heavy-packed  vehicle  into  the 
ditch ;  and  with  the  smallest  retardation,  we  had  to  drive  on 
right  over  the  horse, \which  was  just  about  to  rise;  and  I  saw 
too  clearly  how  its  legs,  under  the, wheels,  went  crashing  and 
quivering. 

“  Horse  and  foot  endeavored  to  escape  from  the  narrow 
laborious  highway  into  the  meadows  :  but  these  too  were 
rained  to  ruin ;  overflowed  by  full  ditches,  the  connection  of 
the  footpaths  everywhere  interrupted.  Four  gentleman-like, 
handsome,  well-dressed  French  soldiers  waded  for  a  time  be¬ 
side  our  carriage ;  wonderfully  clean  and  neat :  and  had  such 
art  of  picking  their  steps,  that  their  foot-gear  testified  no 
higher  than  the  ankle  to  the  muddy  pilgrimage  these  good 
people  found  themselves  engaged  in. 

“  That  under  such  circumstances  one  saw,  in  ditches,  in 
meadows,  in  fields  and  crofts,  dead  horses  enough,  was  natural 
to  the  case  :  by  and  by,  however,  you  found  them  also  flayed, 
the  fleshy  parts  even  cut  away ;  sad  token  of  the  universal 
distress. 

u  Thus  we  fared  on ;  every  moment  in  danger,  at  the  small- 


Chap.  VIII.  EXEUNT.  215 

October  11. 

est  stoppage  on  our  own  part,  of  being  ourselves  tumbled  over¬ 
board  :  under  which  circumstances,  truly,  the  careful  dex¬ 
terity  of  our  Lisieux  could  not  be  sufficiently  praised.  The 
same  talent  showed  itself  at  Estain  ;  where  we  arrived 
towards  noon  ;  and  descried,  over  the  beautiful  well-built 
little  Town,  through  streets  and  on  squares,  around  and  be¬ 
side  us,  one  sense-confusing  tumult  :  the  mass  rolled  this 
way  and  that ;  and,  all  struggling  forward,  each  hindered  the 
other.  Unexpectedly  our  carriage  drew  up  before  a  stately 
house  in  the  market-place :  master  and  mistress  of  the  man¬ 
sion  saluted  us  in  reverent  distance.”  Dexterous  Lisieux, 
though  we  knew  it  not,  had  said  we  were  the  King  of  Prussia’s 
Brother  ! 

“  But  now,  from  the  ground-floor  windows,  looking  over  the 
whole  market-place,  we  had  the  endless  tumult  lying,  as  it 
were,  palpable.  All  sorts  of  walkers,  soldiers  in  uniform, 
marauders,  stout  but  sorrowing  citizens  and  peasants,  women 
and  children,  crushed  and  jostled  each  other,  amid  vehicles 
of  all  forms  :  ammunition-wagons,  baggage-wagons  ;  carriages, 
single,  double  and  multiplex ;  such  hundred-fold  miscellany  of 
teams,  requisitioned  or  lawfully  owned,  making  way,  hitting 
together,  hindering  each  other,  rolled  here  to  right  and  to 
left.  Horned  cattle  too  were  struggling  on ;  probably  herds 
that  had  been  put  in  requisition.  Eiders  you  saw  few ;  but 
the  elegant  carriages  of  the  Emigrants,  many-colored,  lack¬ 
ered,  gilt  and  silvered,  evidently  by  the  best  builders,  caught 
your  eye.1 

“  The  crisis  of  the  strait,  however,  arose  farther  on  a  little ; 
where  the  crowded  market-place  had  to  introduce  itself  into  a 
street,  —  straight  indeed  and  good,  but  proportionably  far  too 
narrow.  I  have,  in  my  life,  seen  nothing  like  it :  the  aspect 
of  it  might  perhaps  be  compared  to  that  of  a  swoln  river 
which  has  been  raging  over  meadows  and  fields,  and  is  now 
again  obliged  to  press  itself  through  a  narrow  bridge,  and 
flow  on  in  its  bounded  channel.  Down  the  long  street,  all 
visible  from  our  windows,  there  swelled  continually  the 
strangest  tide  :  a  high  double-seated  travelling  coach  towered 
1  See  Hermann  und  Dorothea  (also  by  Goethe),  Buch  Kalliope. 


216  SEPTEMBER.  Book  XIV. 

1792. 

visible  over  the  flood  of  things.  We  thought  of  the  fair 
Frenchwomen  we  had  seen  in  the  morning.  It  was  not  they, 
however  ;  it  was  Count  Haugwitz  ;  him  you  could  look  at, 
with  a  kind  of  sardonic  malice,  rocking  onwards,  step  by  step, 
there.”  1 

In  such  untriumphant  Procession  has  the  Brunswick  Mani¬ 
festo  issued  !  Nay  in  worse,  “  in  Negotiation  with  these  mis¬ 
creants,”  —  the  first  news  of  which  produced  such  a  revulsion 
in  the  Emigrant  nature,  as  put  our  scientific  World-Poet  “  in 
fear  for  the  wits  of  several.”  2  There  is  no  help :  they  must 
fare  on,  these  poor  Emigrants,  angry  with  all  persons  and 
things,  and  making  all  persons  angry  in  the  hapless  course 
they  struck  into.  Landlord  and  landlady  testify  to  you,  at 
tables-d’ hote,  how  insupportable  these  Frenchmen  are :  how, 
in  spite  of  such  humiliation,  of  poverty  and  probable  beggary, 
there  is  ever  the  same  struggle  for  precedence,  the  same  for¬ 
wardness  and  want  of  discretion.  High  in  honor,  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  you  with  your  own  eyes  observe  not  a  Seigneur, 
but  the  automaton  of  a  Seigneur  fallen  into  dotage  ;  still  wor¬ 
shipped,  reverently  \waited  on  and  fed.  In  miscellaneous  seats 
is  a  miscellany  of  soldiers,  commissaries,  adventurers  ;  con¬ 
suming  silently  their  barbarian  victuals.  “  On  all  brows  is  to 
be  read  a  hard  destiny ;  all  are  silent,  for  each  has  his  own 
sufferings  to  bear,  and  looks  forth  into  misery  without  bounds.” 
One  hasty  wanderer,  coming  in,  and  eating  without  ungracious¬ 
ness  what  is  set  before  him,  the  landlord  lets  off  almost  scot- 
free.  “  He  is,”  whispered  the  landlord  to  me,  “  the  first  of 
these  cursed  people  I  have  seen  condescend  to  taste  our 
German  black  bread.” 3 

And  Dumouriez  is  in  Paris  ;  lauded  and  feasted ;  paraded 
in  glittering  saloons,  floods  of  beautifulest  blonde-dresses  and 
broadcloth-coats  flowing  past  him,  endless,  in  admiring  joy. 
One  night,  nevertheless,  in  the  splendor  of  one  such  scene, 
he  sees  himself  suddenly  apostrophized  by  a  squalid  unjoyful 

1  Campagne  in  Frankreich,  Goethe’s  Werke  (Stuttgart,  1829),  xxx.  133- 
137. 

*  lb.  p.  152. 


*  lb.  pp.  210-212. 


Chap.  VIII.  EXEUNT.  217 

October  11. 

Figure,  who  has  come  in  iminvited,  nay  despite  of  all  lackeys  ; 
an  unjoyful  Figure  !  The  Figure  is  come  “  in  express  mission 
from  the  Jacobins,”  to  inquire  sharply,  better  then  than  later, 
touching  certain  things :  “  Shaven  eyebrows  of  Volunteer  Pa¬ 
triots,  for  instance  ?  ”  Also,  “  your  threats  of  shivering  in 
pieces  ?  ”  Also,  “  why  you  have  not  chased  Brunswick  hotly 
enough  ?  ”  Thus,  with  sharp  croak,  inquires  the  Figure.  — 
“ Ah ,  c’est  vous  qu’on  appelle  Marat ,  You  are  he  they  call 
Marat !  ”  answers  the  General,  and  turns  coldly  on  his  heel.1  — 
“ Marat!”  The  blonde-gowns  quiver  like  aspens;  the  dress- 
coats  gather  round ;  Actor  Talma  (for  it  is  his  house),  Actor 
Talma,  and  almost  the  very  chandelier-lights,  are  blue :  till 
this  obscene  Spectrum,  swart  unearthly  Visual- Appearance, 
vanish,  back  into  its  native  Night. 

General  Dumouriez,  in  few  brief  days,  is  gone  again, 
towards  the  Netherlands  ;  will  attack  the  Netherlands,  winter 
though  it  be.  And  General  Montesquiou,  on  the  Southeast, 
has  driven  in  the  Sardinian  Majesty ;  nay,  almost  without  a 
shot  fired,  has  taken  Savoy  from  him,  which  longs  to  become 
a  piece  of  the  Bepublic.  And  General  Custine,  on  the  North¬ 
east,  has  dashed  forth  on  Spires  and  its  Arsenal ;  and  then  on 
Electoral  Mentz,  not  uninvited,  wherein  are  German  Demo¬ 
crats  and  no  shadow  of  an  Elector  now :  so  that  in  the  last 
days  of  October,  Frau  Forster,  a  daughter  of  Heyne’s,  some¬ 
what  democratic,  walking  out  of  the  Gate  of  Mentz  with  her 
Husband,  finds  French  Soldiers  playing  at  bowls  with  cannon¬ 
balls  there.  Forster  trips  cheerfully  over  one  iron  bomb,  with 
“  Live  the  Bepublic  !  ”  A  black-bearded  National  Guard  an¬ 
swers  :  “  Elle  vivra  bien  sans  vous,  It  will  probably  live  inde¬ 
pendently  of  you.”  2 

1  Dumouriez,  iii.  115.  —  Marat’s  account,  in  the  Ddbats  des  Jacobins  and 
Journal  de  la  Rgpublique  (Hist.  Pail.  xix.  317-321),  agrees  to  the  turning  on 
the  heel,  but  strives  to  interpret  it  differently. 

2  Johann  Georg  Forster’s  Brief wechsel  (Leipzig,  1829),  i.  88. 


BOOK  XY. 


REGICIDE. 

- * - 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  DELIBERATIVE. 

France  therefore  has  done  two  things  very  completely : 
she  has  hurled  back  her  Cimmerian  Invaders  far  over  the 
marches ;  and  likewise  she  has  shattered  her  own  internal 
Social  Constitution,  even  to  the  minutest  fibre  of  it,  into 
wreck  and  dissolution.  Utterly  it  is  all  altered :  from  King 
down  to  Parish  Constable,  all  Authorities,  Magistrates,  Judges, 
persons  that  bore  rule,  have  had,  on  the  sudden,  to  alter  them¬ 
selves,  so  far  as  needful ;  or  else,  on  the  sudden,  and  not  with¬ 
out  violence,  to  be  altered ;  a  Patriot  “  Executive  Council  of 
Ministers,”  with  a  Patriot  Danton  in  it,  and  then  a  whole 
Nation  and  National  Convention,  have  taken  care  of  that. 
Not  a  Parish  Constable,  in  the  farthest  hamlet,  who  has  said 
De  par  le  Roi,  and  shown  loyalty,  but  must  retire,  making 
way  for  a  new  improved  Parish  Constable  who  can  say  De 
par  la  Republique. 

It  is  a  change  such  as  History  must  beg  her  readers  to 
imagine,  imdescribed.  An  instantaneous  change  of  the  whole 
body-politic,  the  soul-politic  being  all  changed ;  such  a  change 
as  few  bodies,  politic  or  other,  can  experience  in  this  world. 
Say,  perhaps,  such  as  poor  Nymph  Semele’s  body  did  experi¬ 
ence,  when  she  would  needs,  with  woman’s  humor,  see  her 
Olympian  Jove  as  very  Jove; — and  so  stood,  poor  Nymph, 


219 


Chap.  I.  THE  DELIBERATIVE. 

September  21. 

this  moment  Semele,  next  moment  not  Semele,  but  Flame  and 
a  Statue  of  Red-hot  Ashes  !  France  has  looked  upon  Democ¬ 
racy  ;  seen  it  face  to  face.  —  The  Cimmerian  Invaders  will 
rally,  in  humbler  temper,  with  better  or  worse  luck  :  the 
wreck  and  dissolution  must  reshape  itself  into  a  social  Ar¬ 
rangement  as  it  can  and  may.  But  as  for  this  National 
Convention,  which  is  to  settle  everything,  if  it  do,  as  Deputy 
Paine  and  France  generally  expects,  get  all  finished  “  in  a 
few  months,”  we  shall  call  it  a  most  deft  Convention. 

In  truth,  it  is  very  singular  to  see  how  this  mercurial 
French  People  plunges  suddenly  from  Vive  le  Roi  to  Vive  la 
Republique ;  and  goes  simmering  and  dancing,  shaking  off 
daily  (so  to  speak),  and  trampling  into  the  dust,  its  old  social 
garnitures,  ways  of  thinking,  rules  of  existing ;  and  cheer¬ 
fully  dances  towards  the  Ruleless,  Unknown,  with  such  hope 
in  its  heart,  and  nothing  but  . Freedom ,  Equality  and  Brother¬ 
hood  in  its  mouth.  Is  it  two  centuries,  or  is  it  only  two  years, 
since  all  France  roared  simultaneously  to  the  welkin,  bursting 
forth  into  sound  and  smoke  at  its  Feast  of  Pikes ,  “  Live  the 
Restorer  of  French  Liberty  ”  ?  Three  short  years  ago  there 
was  still  Versailles  and  an  GEil-de-Boeuf :  now  there  is  that 
watched  Circuit  of  the  Temple,  girt  with  dragon-eyed  Munici¬ 
pals,  where,  as  in  its  final  limbo,  Royalty  lies  extinct.  In  the 
year  1789,  Constituent  Deputy  Barrere  “  wept,”  in  his  Break- 
of-Day  Newspaper,  at  sight  of  a  reconciled  King  Louis ;  and 
now  in  1792,  Convention  Deputy  Barrere,  perfectly  tearless, 
may  be  considering,  whether  the  reconciled  King  Louis  shall 
be  guillotined  or  not ! 

Old  garnitures  and  social  vestures  drop  off  (we  say)  so  fast, 
being  indeed  quite  decayed,  and  are  trodden  under  the  Na¬ 
tional  dance.  And  the  new  vestures,  where  are  they ;  the 
new  modes  and  rules  ?  Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity :  not 
vestures,  but  the  wish  for  vestures  !  The  Nation  is  for  the 
present,  figuratively  speaking,  n^ked ;  it  has  no  rule  or  ves¬ 
ture;  but  is  naked, — a  Sansculottic  Nation. 

So  far  therefore,  and  in  such  manner,  have  our  Patriot  Bris- 
sots,  Guadets  triumphed.  Vergniaud’s  Ezekiel-visions  of  the 
fall  of  thrones  and  crowns,  which  he  spake  hypothetically  and 


220  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

prophetically  in  the  Spring  of  the  year,  have  suddenly  come 
to  fulfilment  in  the  Autumn.  Our  eloquent  Patriots  of  the 
Legislative,  like  strong  Conjurers,  by  the  word  of  their  mouth, 
have  swept  Royalism  with  its  old  modes  and  formulas  to  the 
winds;  and  shall  now  govern  a  France  free  of  formulas.  Free 
of  formulas  !  And  yet  man  lives  not  except  with  formulas  ; 
with  customs,  ways  of  doing  and  living :  no  text  truer  than 
this;  which  will  hold  true  from  the  Tea-table  and  Tailor’s 
shopboard  up  to  the  High  Senate-houses,  Solemn  Temples; 
nay  through  all  provinces  of  Mind  and  Imagination,  onwards 
to  the  outmost  confines  of  articulate  Being,  —  Ubi  homines  sunt 
modi  sunt.  There  are  modes  wherever  there  are  men.  It  is 
the  deepest  law  of  man’s  nature ;  whereby  man  is  a  craftsman 
and  “  tool-using  animal ;  ”  not  the  slave  of  Impulse,  Chance 
and  brute  Nature,  but  in  some  measure  their  lord.  Twenty- 
five  millions  of  men,  suddenly  stript  bare  of  their  modi ,  and 
dancing  them  down  in  that  manner,  are  a  terrible  thing  to 
govern ! 

Eloquent  Patriots  of  the  Legislative,  meanwhile,  have  pre¬ 
cisely  this  problem  to  solve.  Under  the  name  and  nickname 
of  “ statesmen,  hbmmes  d’etat ,”  of  “moderate  men,  moderan- 
tins ,”  of  Brissotins,  Rolandins,  finally  of  Girondins,  they  shall 
become  world-famous  in  solving  it.  For  the  twenty-five  mil¬ 
lions  are  Gallic  effervescent  too ;  —  filled  both  with  hope  of 
the  unutterable,  of  universal  Fraternity  and  Golden  Age ;  and 
with  terror  of  the  unutterable,  Cimmerian  Europe  all  rally¬ 
ing  on  us.  It  is  a  problem  like  few.  Truly,  if  man,  as  the 
Philosophers  brag,  did  to  any  extent  look  before  and  after, 
what,  one  may  ask,  in  many  cases  would  become  of  him? 
What,  in  this  case,  would  become  of  these  seven  hundred  and 
forty-nine  men  ?  The  Convention,  seeing  clearly  before  and 
after,  were  a  paralyzed  Convention.  Seeing  clearly  to  the 
length  of  its  own  nose,  it  is  not  paralyzed. 

To  the  Convention  itself  neither  the  work  nor  the  method 
of  doing  it  is  doubtful !  To  make  the  Constitution ;  to  defend 
the  Republic  till  that  be  made.  Speedily  enough,  accordingly, 
there  has  been  a  “  Committee  of  the  Constitution  ”  got  to¬ 
gether.  Sieyes,  Old-Constituent,  Constitution-builder  by  trade ; 


Chap.  I.  THE  DELIBERATIVE.  221 

September  21. 

Condorcet,  fit  for  better  things ;  Deputy  Paine,  foreign  Bene¬ 
factor  of  the  Species,  with  that  “  red  carbuncled  face  and  the 
black  beaming  eyes ;  ”  Herault  de  Sechelles,  Ex-Parlementeer, 
one  of  the  handsomest  men  in  France ;  these,  with  inferior 
guild-brethren,  are  girt  cheerfully  to  the  work ;  will  once  more 
“  make  the  Constitution  ;  ”  let  us  hope,  more  effectually  than 
last  time.  For  that  the  Constitution  can  be  made,  who  doubts, 
—  unless  the  Gospel  of  Jean  Jacques  came  into  the  world  in 
vain  ?  True,  our  last  Constitution  did  tumble  within  the 
year,  so  lamentably.  But  what  then ;  except  sort  the  rubbish 
and  boulders,  and  build  them  up  again  better  ?  “  Widen 

your  basis,”  for  one  thing, — to  Universal  Suffrage,  if  need 
be ;  exclude  rotten  materials,  Royalism  and  such  like,  for  an¬ 
other  thing.  And  in  brief,  build,  0  unspeakable  Sieyes  and 
Company  unwearied !  Frequent  perilous  down-rushing  of  scaf¬ 
folding  and  rubble-work,  be  that  an  irritation,  no  discourage¬ 
ment.  Start  ye  always  again,  clearing  aside  the  wreck ;  if 
with  broken  limbs,  yet  with  wThole  hearts ;  and  build,  we  say, 
in  the  name  of  Heaven,  —  till  either  the  work  do  stand ;  or 
else  mankind  abandon  it,  and  the  Constitution-builders  be  paid 
off,  with  laughter  and  tears  !  One  good  time,  in  the  course 
of  Eternity,  it  was  appointed  that  this  of  Social  Contract  too 
should  try  itself  out.  And  so  the  Committee  of  Constitution 
shall  toil :  with  hope  and  faith ;  —  with  no  disturbance  from 
any  reader  of  these  pages. 

To  make  the  Constitution,  then,  and  return  home  joyfully 
in  a  few  months  ;  this  is  the  prophecy  our  Rational  Conven¬ 
tion  gives  of  itself ;  by  this  scientific  program  shall  its  opera¬ 
tions  and  events  go  on.  But  from  the  best  scientific  program, 
in  such  a  case,  to  the  actual  fulfilment,  what  a  difference  ! 
Every  reunion  of  men,  is  it  not,  as  we  often  say,  a  reunion  of 
incalculable  Influences  ;  every  unit  of  it  a  microcosm  of  Influ¬ 
ences  ;  —  of  which  how  shall  Science  calculate  or  prophesy  ? 
Science,  which  cannot,  with  all  its  calculuses,  differential,  in¬ 
tegral  and  of  variations,  calculate  the  Problem  of  Three  gravi¬ 
tating  Bodies,  ought  to  hold  her  peace  here,  and  say  only :  In 
this  Rational  Convention  there  are  seven  hundred  and  forty- 
nine  very  singular  Bodies,  that  gravitate  and  do  much  else  j  — 


222  REGICIDE.  Book  XV 

1792. 

who,  probably  in  an  amazing  manner,  will  work  the  appoint¬ 
ment  of  Heaven. 

Of  National  Assemblages,  Parliaments,  Congresses,  which 
have  long  sat ;  which  are  of  saturnine  temperament ;  above 
all,  which  are  not  “  dreadfully  in  earnest/’  something  may  be 
computed  or  conjectured:  yet  even  these  are  a  kind  of  Mys¬ 
tery  in  progress,  —  whereby  accordingly  we  see  the  Journalist 
Reporter  find  livelihood :  even  these  jolt  madly  out  of  the 
ruts,  from  time  to  time.  How  much  more  a  poor  National 
Convention,  of  French  vehemence ;  urged  on  at  such  velocity ; 
without  routine,  without  rut,  track  or  landmark;  and  dread¬ 
fully  in  earnest  every  man  of  them !  It  is  a  Parliament 
literally  such  as  there  was  never  elsewhere  in  the  world. 
Themselves  are  new,  unarranged ;  they  are  the  Heart  and 
presiding  centre  of  a  France  fallen  wholly  into  maddest  disar¬ 
rangement.  From  all  cities,  .hamlets,  from  the  utmost  ends  of 
this  France  with  its  twenty-five  million  vehement  souls,  thick¬ 
streaming  influences  storm  in  on  that  same  Heart,  in  the  Salle 
de  Manege,  and  storm  out  again :  such  fiery  venous-arterial 
circulation  is  the,  function  of  that  Heart.  Seven  hundred  and 
forty-nine  human  individuals,  we  say,  never  sat  together  on 
our  Earth  under  more  original  circumstances.  Common  indi¬ 
viduals  most  of  them,  or  not  far  from  common :  yet  in  virtue 
of  the  position  they  occupied,  so  notable.  Flow,  in  this  wild 
piping  of  the  whirlwind  of  human  passions,  with  death,  vic¬ 
tory,  terror,  valor,  and  all  height  and  all  depth  pealing  and 
piping,  these  men,  left  to  their  own  guidance,  will  speak 
and  act  ? 

Readers  know  well  that  this  French  National  Convention 
(quite  contrary  to  its  own  Program)  became  the  astonishment 
and  horror  of  mankind  ;  a  kind  of  Apocalyptic  Convention,  or 
black  Dream  become  real concerning  which  History  seldom 
speaks  except  in  the  way  of  interjection :  how  it  covered 
France  with  woe,  delusion  and  delirium ;  and  from  its  bosom 
there  went  forth  Death  on  the  pale  Horse.  To  hate  this  poor 
National  Convention  is  easy ;  to  praise  and  love  it  has  not  been 
found  impossible.  It  is,  as  we  say,  a  Parliament  in  the  most 
original  circumstances.  To  us,  in  these  pages,  be  it  as  a 


Chap.  I.  THE  DELIBERATIVE.  223 

September  21. 

fuliginous  fiery  mystery,  where  Upper  has  met  Nether,  and 
in  such  alternate  glare  and  blackness  of  darkness  poor  bedaz¬ 
zled  mortals  know  not  which  is  Upper,  which  is  Nether;  but 
rage  and  plunge  distractedly,  as  mortals  in  that  case  will  do. 
A  Convention  which  has  to  consume  itself,  suicidally ;  and 
become  dead  ashes  —  with  its  World  !  Behooves  us,  not  to 
enter  exploratively  its  dim  embroiled  deeps ;  yet  to  stand  with 
unwavering  eyes,  looking  how  it  welters ;  what  notable  phases 
and  occurrences  it  will  successively  throw  up. 

One  general  superficial  circumstance  we  remark  with  praise  : 
the  force  of  Politeness.  To  such  depth  has  the  sense  of  civili¬ 
zation  penetrated  man’s  life  ;  no  Drouet,  no  Legendre,  in*  the 
maddest  tug  of  war,  can  altogether  shake  it  off.  Debates  of 
Senates  dreadfully  in  earnest  are  seldom  given  frankly  to  the 
world ;  else  perhaps  they  would  surprise  it.  Did  not  the 
Grand  Monarque  himself  once  chase  his  Louvois  with  a  pair 
of  brandished  tongs  ?  But  reading  long  volumes  of  these  Con¬ 
vention  Debates,  all  in  a  foam  with  furious  earnestness,  ear¬ 
nest  many  times  to  the  extent  of  life  and  death,  one  is  struck 
rather  with  the  degree  of  continence  they  manifest  in  speech ; 
and  how  in  such  wild  ebullition,  there  is  still  a  kind  of  polite 
rule  struggling  for  mastery,  and  the  forms  of  social  life  never 
altogether  disappear.  These  men,  though  they  menace  with 
clenched  right-hands,  do  not  clutch  one  another  by  the  collar ; 
they  draw  no  daggers,  except  for  oratorical  purposes,  and  this 
not  often :  profane  swearing  is  almost  unknown,  though  the 
Reports  are  frank  enough ;  we  find  only  one  or  two  oaths, 
oaths  by  Marat,  reported  in  all. 

For  the  rest,  that  there  is  “  effervescence  ”  who  doubts  ? 
Effervescence  enough ;  Decrees  passed  by  acclamation  to-day, 
repealed  by  vociferation  to-morrow ;  temper  fitful,  most  rota¬ 
tory-changeful,  always  headlong  !  The  “  voice  of  the  orator  is 
covered  with  rumors  ;  ”  a  hundred  “  honorable  Members  rush 
with  menaces  towards  the  Left  side  of  the  Hall ;  ”  President 
has  “  broken  three  bells  in  succession,”  —  claps  on  his  hat,  as 
signal  that  the  country  is  near  ruined.  A  fiercely  effervescent 
Old-Gallic  Assemblage !  —  Ah,  how,  the  loud  sick  sounds  of 


224 


REGICIDE. 


Book  XV. 
1792. 

Debate,  and  of  Life,  which  is  a  debate,  sink  silent  one  after 
another  :  so  loud  now,  and  in  a  little  while  so  low  !  Brennus, 
and  those  antique  Gael  Captains,  in  their  way  to  Rome,  to 
Galatia  and  such  places,  whither  they  were  in  the  habit  of 
marching  in  the  most  fiery  manner,  had  Debates  as  efferves¬ 
cent,  doubt  it  not ;  though  no  Moniteur  has  reported  them. 
They  scolded  in  Celtic  Welsh,  those  Brennuses  ;  neither  were 
they  Sansculotte;  nay  rather  breeches  (braccce,  say  of  felt  or 
rough-leather)  were  the  only  thing  they  had;  being, -as  Livy 
testifies,  naked  down  to  the  haunches :  —  and,  see,  it  is  the 
same  sort  of  work  and  of  men  still,  now  when  they  have  got 
coats,  and  speak  nasally  a  kind  of  broken  Latin !  But,  on  the 
whole,  does  not  Time  envelop  this  present  National  Conven¬ 
tion  ;  as  it  did  those  Brennuses,  and  ancient  august  Senates  in 
felt  breeches  ?  Time  surely  :  and  also  Eternity.  Dim  dusk 
of  Time,  —  or  noon  which  will  be  dusk ;  and  then  there  is 
night,  and  silence ;  and  Time  with  all  its  sick  noises  is  swal¬ 
lowed  in  the  still  sea.  Pity  thy  brother,  0  son  of  Adam  !  The 
angriest  frothy  jargon  that  he  utters,  is  it  not  properly  the 
whimpering  of  an  infant  which  cannot  speak  what  ails  it,  but 
is  in  distress  clearly,  in  the  inwards  of  it ;  and  so  must  squall 
and  whimper  continually,  till  its  Mother  take  it,  and  it  get  — 
to  sleep !  *  f 

This  Convention  is  not  four  days  old,  and  the  melodious 
Meliboean  stanzas  that  shook  down  Royalty  are  still  fresh  in 
our  ear,  when  there  bursts  out  a  new  diapason, — unhappily,  of 
Discord,  this  time.  Eor  speech  has  been  made  of  a  thing  diffi¬ 
cult  to  speak  of  well :  the  September  Massacres.  How  deal 
with  these  September  Massacres ;  with  the  Paris  Commune 
that  presided  over  them  ?  A  Paris  Commune  hateful-terrible  ; 
before  which  the  poor  effete  Legislative  had  to  quail,  and  sit 
quiet.  And  now  if  a  young  omnipotent  Convention  will  not 
so  quail  and  sit,  what  steps  shall  it  take  ?  Have  a  Depart¬ 
mental  Guard  in  its  pay,  answer  the  Girondins  and  Priends  of 
Order !  A  Guard  of  National  Volunteers,  missioned  from  all 
the  Eighty-three  or  Eighty-five  Departments,  for  that  express 
end;  these  will  keep  Septemberers,  tumultuous  Communes  in 


Chap.  I.  THE  DELIBERATIVE.  *  225 

September  25. 

a  due  state  of  submissiveness,  the  Convention  in  a  due  state  of 
sovereignty.  So  have  the  Friends  of  Order  answered,  sitting 
in  Committee,  and  reporting;  and  even  a  Decree  has  been 
passed  of  the  required  tenor.  Nay  certain  Departments,  as 
the  Var  or  Marseilles,  in  mere  expectation  and  assurance  of  a 
Decree,  have  their  contingent  of  Volunteers  already  on  march  ; 
brave  Marseillese,  foremost  on  the  Tenth  of  August,  will  not 
be  hindmost  here  :  “  fathers  gave  their  sons  a  musket  and 
twenty-five  louis,”  says  Barbaroux,  “  and  bade  them  march.” 

Can  anything  be  properer  ?  A  Republic  that  will  found 
itself  on  justice  must  needs  investigate  September  Massacres  ; 
a  Convention  calling  itself  National,  ought  it  not  to  be  guarded 
by  a  National  force  ?  —  Alas,  Reader,  it  seems  so  to  the  eye  : 
and  yet  there  is  much  to  be  said  and  argued.  Thou  beholdest 
here  the  small  beginning  of  a  Controversy,  which  mere  logic 
will  not  settle.  Two  small  well-springs,  September,  Depart¬ 
mental  Guard,  or  rather  at  bottom  they  are  but  one  and  the 
same  small  well-spring ;  which  will  swell  and  widen  into  waters 
of  bitterness ;  all  manner  of  subsidiary  streams  and  brooks  of 
bitterness  flowing  in,  from  this  side  and  that ;  till  it  become 
a  wide  river  of  bitterness,  of  rage  and  separation,  —  which  can 
subside  only  into  the  Catacombs.  This  Departmental  Guard, 
decreed  by  overwhelming  majorities,  and  then  repealed  for 
peace’s  sake,  and  not  to  insult  Paris,  is  again  decreed  more 
than  once;  nay  it  is  partially  executed,  and  the  very  men  that 
are  to  be  of  it  are  seen  visibly  parading  the  Paris  streets,  — 
shouting  once,  being  overtaken  with  .  liquor :  “  A  bets  Marat , 
Down  with  Marat!”1  Nevertheless,  decreed  never  so  often, 
it  is  repealed  just  as  often ;  and  continues,  for  some  seven 
months  an  angry  noisy  Hypothesis  only :  a  fair  Possibility 
struggling  to  become  a  Reality,  but  which  shall  never  be  one ; 
which,  after  endless  struggling,  shall,  in  February  next,  sink 
into  sad  rest,  —  dragging  much  along  with  it.  So  singular  are 
the  ways  of  men  and  honorable  Members. 

But  on  this  fourth  day  of  the  Convention’s  existence,  as  we 
said,  which  is  the  25th  of  September,  1792,  there  comes  Com¬ 
mittee  Report  on  that  Decree  of  the  Departmental  Guard,  and 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xx.  184. 

15 


VOL.  IV. 


220  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

speech  of  repealing  it ;  there  come  denunciations  of  Anarchy, 
of  a  Dictatorship,  —  which  let  the  incorruptible  Robespierre 
consider :  there  come  denunciations  of  a  certain  Journal  de  la 
Repuhlique,  once  called  Ami  du  Peuple ;  and  so  thereupon 
there  comes,  visibly  stepping  up,  visibly  standing  aloft  on  the 
Tribune,  ready  to  speak,  —  the  Bodily  Spectrum  of  People’s- 
Friend  Marat !  Shriek,  ye  Seven  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  ;  it 
is  verily  Marat,  he  and  not  another.  Marat  is  no  phantasm  of 
the  brain,  or  mere  lying  impress  of  Printer’s  Types;  but  a 
thing  material,  of  joint  and  sinew,  and  a  certain  small  stature ; 
ye  behold  him  there,  in  his  blackness,  in  his  dingy  squalor, 
a  living  fraction  of  Chaos  and  Old  Night;  visibly  incarnate, 
desirous  to  speak.  “  It  appears,”  says  Marat  to  the  shrieking 
Assembly,  “that  a  great  many  persons  here  are  enemies  of 
mine.”  —  “  All !  all !  ”  shriek  hundreds  of  voices  :  enough  to 
drown  any  People’s-Friend.  But  Marat  will  not  drown:  he 
speaks  and  croaks  explanation ;  croaks  with  such  reasonable¬ 
ness,  air  of  sincerity,  that  repentant  pity  smothers  anger,  and 
the  shrieks  subside,  or  even  become  applauses.  For  this  Con¬ 
vention  is  unfortunately  the  crankest  of  machines :  it  shall  be 
pointing  eastward  with  stiff  violence  this  moment ;  and  then 
do  but  touch  some  spring  dexterously,  the  whole  machine, 
clattering  and  jerking  seven  hundred-fold,  will  whirl  with  huge 
crash,  and,  next  moment,  is  pointing  westward !  Thus  Marat, 
absolved  and  applauded,  victorious  in  this  turn  of  fence,  is,  as 
the  Debate  goes  on,  prickt  at  again  by  some  dexterous  Giron- 
din ;  and  then  the  shrieks  rise  anew,  and  Decree  of  Accusation 
is  on  the  point  of  passing;  till  the  dingy  People’s-Friend  bobs 
aloft  once  more ;  croaks  once  more  persuasive  stillness,  and  the 
Decree  of  Accusation  sinks.  Whereupon  he  draws  forth  —  a 
Pistol ;  and  setting  it  to  his  Head,  the  seat  of  such  thought  and 
prophecy,  says :  “  If  they  had  passed  their  Accusation  Decree, 
he,  the  People’s-Friend,  would  have  blown  his  brains  out.” 
A  People’s-Friend  has  that  faculty  in  him.  For  the  rest,  as  to 
this  of  the  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  Aristocrat  Heads, 
Marat  candidly  says,  “  C’est  la  mon  avis ,  Such  is  my  opinion.” 
Also  is  it  not  indisputable:  “No  power  on  Earth  can  prevent 
me  from  seeing  into  traitors,  and  unmasking  them,”  —  by  my 


THE  EXECUTIVE. 


227 


Chap.  II. 

Sept  .-Oct. 

superior  originality  of  mind  ? 1  An  honorable  member  like 
this  Friend  of  the  People  few  terrestrial  Parliaments  have 
had. 

We  observe,  however,  that  this  first  onslaught  by  the 
Friends  of  Order,  as  sharp  and  prompt  as  it  was,  has  failed. 
For  neither  can  Robespierre,  summoned  out  by  talk  of  Dic¬ 
tatorship,  and  greeted  with  the  like  rumor  on  showing  himself, 
be  thrown  into  Prison,  into  Accusation ;  not  though  Barbaroux 
openly  bear  testimony  against  him,  and  sign  it  on  paper.  With 
such  sanctified  meekness  does  the  Incorruptible  lift  his  sea- 
green  cheek  to  the  smiter;  lift  his  thin  voice,  and  with  jesuitic 
dexterity  plead,  and  prosper ;  asking  at  last,  in  a  prosperous 
manner:  “But  what  witnesses  has  the  Citoyen  Barbaroux  to 
support  his  testimony  ?  ”  “  Moi  !  ”  cries  hot  Rebecqui,  stand¬ 

ing  up,  striking  his  breast  with  both  hands,  and  answering 
“Me  !  ”  2  Nevertheless  the  Sea-green  pleads  again,  and  makes 
it  good:  the  long  hurly-burly,  “personal  merely/’  while  so 
much  public  matter  lies  fallow,  has  ended  in  the  order  of  the 
day.  0  Friends  of  the  Gironde,  why  will  you  occupy  our 
august  sessions  with  mere  paltry  Personalities,  while  the 
grand  Nationality  lies  in  such  a  state?  —  The  Gironde  has 
touched,  this  day,  on  the  foul  black-spot  of  its  fair  Convention 
Domain ;  has  trodden  on  it,  and  yet  not  trodden  it  down.  Alas, 
it  is  a  iv ell-spring,  as  we  said,  this  black-spot ;  and  will  not 
tread  down  I 

■  ♦ 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  EXECUTIVE. 

May  we  not  conjecture  therefore  that  round  this  grand  en¬ 
terprise  of  Making  the  Constitution,  there  will,  as  heretofore, 
very  strange  embroilments  gather,  and  questions  and  interests 

1  Moniteur  Newspaper,  Nos.  271,  2S0,  294,  Annee  premiere.  Moore’s  Jour¬ 
nal,  ii.  21,  157,  &c.  (which,  however,  may  perhaps,  as  in  similar  cases,  be  only  a 
copy  of  the  Newspaper). 

2  Moniteur,  ut  suprh:  Seance  du  25  Septembre. 


228  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

complicate  themselves  ;  so  that  after  a  few  or  even  several 
months,  the  Convention  will  not  have  settled  everything  ? 
Alas,  a  whole  tide  of  questions  comes  rolling,  boiling ;  grow¬ 
ing  ever  wider,  without  end  !  Among  which,  apart  from  this 
question  of  September  and  Anarchy,  let  us  notice  three,  which 
emerge  oftener  than  the  others,  and  promise  to  become  Lead¬ 
ing  Questions :  Of  the  Armies ;  of  the  Subsistences ;  thirdly, 
of  the  Dethroned  King. 

As  to  the  Armies,  Public  Defence  must  evidently  be  put 
on  a  proper  footing ;  for  Europe  seems  coalizing  itself  again ; 
one  is  apprehensive  even  England  will  join  it.  Happily  Du- 
mouriez  prospers  in  the  North ;  —  nay,  what  if  he  should 
prove  too  prosperous,  and  become  Liberticide ,  Murderer  of 
Freedom  !  —  Dumouriez  prospers,  through  this  winter  season  ; 
yet  not  without  lamentable  complaints.  Sleek  Pache,  the 
Swiss  Schoolmaster,  he  that  sat  frugal  in  his  Alley,  the  won¬ 
der  of  neighbors,  has  got  lately  —  whither  thinks  the  Reader  ? 
To  be  Minister  of  War!  Madame  Roland,  struck  with  his 
sleek  ways,  recommended  him  to  her  husband  as  Clerk  ;  the 
sleek  Clerk  had  no  need  of  salary,  being  of  true  Patriotic 
temper ;  he  would  come  with  a  bit  of  bread  in  his  pocket,  to 
save  dinner  and  time  ;  and  munching  incidentally,  do  three 
men’s  work  in  a  day ;  punctual,  silent,  frugal,  —  the  sleek 
Tartuffe  that  he  was.  Wherefore  Roland,  in  the  late  Over¬ 
turn,  recommended  him  to  be  War-Minister.  And  now,  it 
would  seem,  he  is  secretly  undermining  Roland ;  playing  into 
the  hands  of  your  hotter  Jacobins  and  September  Commune ; 
and  cannot,  like  strict  Roland,  be  the  Veto  des  Coquins  ! 1 

How  the  sleek  Pache  might  mine  and  undermine,  one  knows 
not  well ;  this  however  one  does  know  :  that  his  War-Office 
has  become  a  den  of  thieves  and  confusion,  such  as  all  men 
shudder  to  behold.  That  the  Citizen  Hassenfratz,  as  Head- 
Clerk,  sits  there  in  bonnet  rouge ,  in  rapine,  in  violence,  and 
some  Mathematical  calculation;  a  most  insolent,  red-night- 
capped  man.  That  Pache  munches  his  pocket-loaf,  amid 
head-clerks  and  sub-clerks,  and  has  spent  all  the  War-Esti¬ 
mates.  That  Furnishers  scour  in  gigs,  over  all  districts  of 

1  Madame  Roland,  Me  moires,  ii.  237,  &c. 


Chap.  II.  THE  EXECUTIVE.  229 

Sept. -Oct. 

France,  and  drive  bargains.  And  lastly  that  the  Army  gets 
next  to  no  furniture :  no  shoes,  though  it  is  winter ;  no  clothes ; 
some  have  not  even  arms  j  “  in  the  Army  of  the  South,”  com¬ 
plains  an  honorable  Member,  “  there  are  thirty  thousand  pairs 
of  breeches  wanting,”  —  a  most  scandalous  want. 

Boland’s  strict  soul  is  sick  to  see  the  course  things  take : 
but  what  can  he  do  ?  Keep  his  own  Department  strict ;  re¬ 
buke,  and  repress  wheresoever  possible ;  at  lowest,  complain. 
He  can  complain  in  Letter  after  Letter,  to  a  National  Conven¬ 
tion,  to  France,  to  Posterity,  the  Universe ;  grow  ever  more 
querulous-indignant ;  —  till  at  last,  may  he  not  grow  weari¬ 
some  ?  For  is  not  this  continual  text  of  his,  at  bottom,  a 
rather  barren  one :  How  astonishing  that  in  a  time  of  Bevolt 
and  abrogation  of  all  Law  but  Cannon  Law,  there  should  be 
such  Unlawfulness  ?  Intrepid  Veto  of  Scoundrels,  narrow- 
faithful,  respectable,  methodic  man,  work  thou  in  that  man¬ 
ner,  since  happily  it  is  thy  manner,  and  wear  thyself  away ; 
though  ineffectual,  not  profitless  in  it  —  then  nor  note  !  —  The 
brave  Dame  Boland,  bravest  of  all  French  women,  begins  to 
have  misgivings :  The  figure  of  Danton  has  too  much  of  the 
“  Sardanapalus  character,”  at  a  Bepublican  Bolandin  Dinner- 
table  :  Clootz,  Speaker  of  Mankind,  proses  sad  stuff  about  a 
Universal  Bepublic,  or  union  of  all  Peoples  and  Kindreds  in 
one  and  the  same  Fraternal  Bond ;  of  which  Bond,  how  it  is 
to  be  tied ,  one  unhappily  sees  not. 

It  is  also  an  indisputable,  unaccountable  or  accountable 
fact,  that  Grains  are  becoming  scarcer  and  scarcer.  Biots 
for  grain,  tumultuous  Assemblages  demanding  to  have  the 
price  of  grain  fixed,  abound  far  and  near.  The  Mayor  of 
Paris  and  other  poor  Mayors  are  like  to  have  their  difficul¬ 
ties.  Petion  was  re-elected  Mayor  of  Paris  ;  but  has  declined ; 
being  now  a  Convention  Legislator.  Wise  surely  to  decline  : 
for,  besides  this  of  Grains  and  all  the  rest,  there  is  in  these 
times  an  Improvised  Insurrectionary  Commune  passing  into 
an  Elected  legal  one ;  getting  their  accounts  settled,  —  not 
without  irritancy !  Petion  has  declined :  nevertheless  many 
do  covet  and  canvass.  After  months  of  scrutinizing,  ballot¬ 
ing,  arguing  and  jargoning,  one  Doctor  Chambon  gets  the  post 


230  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

of  honor  :  who  will  not  long  keep  it ;  but  be,  as  we  shall  see, 
literally  crushed  out  of  it.1 

Think  also  if  the  private  Sansculotte  has  not  his  difficulties, 
in  a  time  of  dearth  !  Bread,  according  to  the  People ’s-Friend, 
may  be  some  “  six  sous  per  pound,  a  day’s  wages  some  fif¬ 
teen  ;  ”  and  grim  winter  here.  How  the  Poor  Man  continues 
living,  and  so  seldom  starves ;  by  miracle  !  Happily,  in  these 
days,  he  can  enlist,  and  have  himself  shot  by  the  Austrians, 
in  an  unusually  satisfactory  manner :  for  the  Rights  of  Man. 
—  But  Commandant  Santerre,  in  this  so  straitened  condition 
of  the  hour-market,  and  state  of  Equality  and  Liberty,  pro¬ 
poses,  through  the  Newspapers,  two  remedies,  or  at  least  pal¬ 
liatives  :  First,  that  all  classes  of  men  should  live  two  days 
of  the  week  on  potatoes  ;  then,  second ,  that  every  man  should 
hang  his  dog.  Hereby,  as  the  Commandant  thinks,  the  sav¬ 
ing,  which  indeed  he  computes  to  so  many  sacks,  would  be 
very  considerable.  Cheerfuler  form  of  inventive-stupidity 
than  Commandant  Santerre’s  dwells  in  no  human  soul.  In¬ 
ventive-stupidity,  imbedded  in  health,  courage  hnd  good¬ 
nature :  much  to  be  commended.  “My  whole  strength,”  he 
tells  the  Convention  once,  “is,  day  and  night,  at  the  service 
of  my  fellow-citizens :  if  they  find  me  worthless,  they  will  dis¬ 
miss  me ;  I  will  return,  and  brew  beer.”  ‘2 

Or  figure  what  correspondences  a  poor  Roland,  Minister  of 
the  Interior,  must  have,  on  this  of  Grains  alone  !  Free-trade 
in  Grain,  impossibility  to  fix  the  Prices  of  Grain ;  on  the  other 
hand,  clamor  and  necessity  to  fix  them :  Political  Economy 
lecturing  from  the  Home  Office,  with  demonstration  clear 
as  Scripture ;  —  ineffectual  for  the  empty  National  Stomach. 
The  Mayor  of  Chartres,  like  to  be  eaten  himself,  cries  to  the 
Convention ;  the  Convention  sends  honorable  Members  in 
Deputation ;  who  endeavor  to  feed  the  multitude  by  miracu¬ 
lous  spiritual  methods ;  but  cannot.  The  multitude,  in  spite 
of  all  Eloquence,  come  bellowing  round ;  will  have  the  Grain- 
Prices  fixed,  and  at  a  moderate  elevation ;  or  else  —  the  hon¬ 
orable  Deputies  hanged  on  the  spot !  The  honorable  Deputies, 

1  Dictionnaire  des  Homines  Marquans ,  §  Cham  bon. 

2  Moniteur  (in  Hist.  Part.  xx.  412). 


Chap.  III.  DISCROWNED.  231 

Sept. -Oct. 

reporting  this  business,  admit  that,  on  the  edge  of  horrid 
death,  they  did  fix,  or  affect  to  fix  the  Price  of  Grain :  for 
which,  be  it  also  noted,  the  Convention,  a  Convention  that 
will  not  be  trifled  with,  sees  good  to  reprimand  them.1 

But  as  to  the  origin  of  these  Grain-Riots,  is  it  not  most 
probably  your  secret  Royalists  again  ?  Glimpses  of  Priests 
were  discernible  in  this  of  Chartres,  —  to  the  eye  of  Patriot¬ 
ism.  Or  indeed  may  not  “  the  root  of  it  all  lie  in  the  Temple 
Prison,  in  the  heart  of  a  perjured  King,”  well  as  we  guard 
him?2  Unhappy  perjured  King!  —  And  so  there  shall  be 
Bakers’  Queues  by  and  by,  more  sharp-tempered  than  ever : 
on  every  Baker’s  door-rabbet  an  iron  ring,  and  coil  of  rope  ; 
whereon,  with  firm  grip,  on  this  side  and  that,  we  form  our 
Queue  :  but  mischievous  deceitful  persons  cut  the  rope,  and 
our  Queue  becomes  a  ravelment ;  wherefore  the  coil  must  be 
made  of  iron  chain.3  Also  there  shall  be  Prices  of  Grain  well 
fixed ;  but  then  no  grain  purchasable  by  them  :  bread  not  to 
be  had  except  by  Ticket  from  the  Mayor,  few  ounces  per 
mouth  daily ;  after  long  swaying,  with  firm  grip,  on  the  chain 
of  the  Queue.  And  Hunger  shall  stalk  direful ;  and  Wrath 
and  Suspicion,  whetted  to  the  Preternatural  pitch,  shall  stalk  ; 
as  those  other  preternatural  “  shapes  of  Gods  in  their  wrath¬ 
fulness  ”  were  discerned  stalking,  “  in  glare  and  gloom  of  that 
fire-ocean,”  when  Troy  Town  fell !  — 

- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  III. 

DISCROWNED. 

But  the  question  more  pressing  than  all  on  the  Legislator, 
as  yet,  is  this  third :  What  shall  be  done  with  King  Louis  ? 

King  Louis,  now  King  and  Majesty  to  his  own  family 
alone,  in  their  own  Prison  Apartment  alone,  has,  for  months 
past,  been  mere  Louis  Capet  and  the  Traitor  Veto  with  the 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xx.  431-440.  2  lb.  409. 

8  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris. 


232  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

rest  of  France.  Shut  in  his  Circuit  of  the  Temple,  he  has 
heard  and  seen  the  loud  whirl  of  things ;  yells  of  Septem¬ 
ber  Massacres,  Brunswick  war-thunders  dying  oft  in  disaster 
and  discomfiture ;  he  passive,  a  spectator  merely ;  waiting 
whither  it  would  please  to  whirl  with  him.  From  the  neigh- 
.  boring  windows,  the  curious,  not  without  pity,  might  see  him 
walk  daily,  at  a  certain  hour,  in  the  Temple  Garden,  with 
his  Queen,  Sister  and  two  Children,  all  that  now  belongs  to 
him  in  this  Earth.1  Quietly  he  walks  and  waits ;  for  he  is 
not  of  lively  feelings,  and  is  of  a  devout  heart.  The  wearied 
Irresolute  has,  at  least,  no  need  of  resolving  now.  His  daily 
meals,  lessons  to  his  Son,  daily  walk  in  the  Garden,  daily 
game  at  ombre  or  draughts,  fill  up  the  day:  the  morrow. will 

provide  for  itself. 

% 

The  morrow  indeed ;  and  yet  How  ?  Louis  asks,  How  ? 
France,  with  perhaps  still  more  solicitude,  asks,  How  ?  A 
King  dethroned  by  insurrection  is  verily  not  easy  to  dispose 
of.  Keep  him  prisoner,  he  is  a  secret  centre  for  the  Dis¬ 
affected,  for  endless  plots,  attempts  and  hopes  of  theirs.  Ban¬ 
ish  him,  he  is  an  open  centre  for  them :  his  royal  war-standard, 
with  what  of  divinity  it  has,  unrolls  itself,  summoning  the 
world.  Put  him  to  death  ?  A  cruel  questionable  extremity 
that  too :  and  yet  the  likeliest  in  these  extreme  circumstances, 
of  insurrectionary  men,  wdiose  own  life  and  death  lie  staked ; 
accordingly  it  is  said,  from  the  last  step  of  the  throne  to  the 
first  of  the  scaffold  there  is  short  distance. 

But,  on  the  whole,  we  will  remark  here  that  this  business 
of  Louis  looks  altogether  different  now,  as  seen  over  Seas 
and  at  the  distance  of  forty-four  years,  from  what  it  looked 
then,  in  France,  and  struggling  confused  all  round  one.  For 
indeed  it  is  a  most  lying  thing  that  same  Past  Tense  always  : 
so  beautiful,  sad,  almost  Ely sian-sacred,  “  in  the  moonlight  of 
Memory,”  it  seems  ;  and  seems  only.  For  observe,  always 
one  most  important  element  is  surreptitiously  (we  not  notic¬ 
ing  it)  withdrawn  from  the  Past  Time :  the  haggard  element 
of  Fear!  Hot  there  does  Fear  dwell,  nor  Uncertainty,  nor 

1  Moore,  i.  123  ;  ii.  224,  &c. 


DISCROWNED. 


233 


Chap.  III. 
Sept.-Oct. 


Anxiety  j  but  it  dwells  here ;  haunting  us,  tracking  us  ;  run¬ 
ning  like  an  accursed  ground-discord  through  all  the  music- 
tones  of  our  Existence  ;  —  making  the  Tense  a  mere  Present 
one  !  Just  so  is  it  with  this  of  Louis.  Why  smite  the  fallen  ? 
asks  Magnanimity,  out  of  danger  now.  He  is  fallen  so  low 
this  once-high  man  ;  no  criminal  nor  traitor,  how  far  from  it ; 
but  the  un happiest  of  Human  Solecisms :  whom  if  abstract 
Justice  had  to  pronounce  upon,  she  might  well  become  concrete 
Pity,  and  pronounce  only  sobs  and  dismissal ! 

So  argues  retrospective  Magnanimity:  but  Pusillanimity, 
present,  prospective  ?  Reader,  thou  hast  never  lived,  for 
months,  under  the  rustle  of  Prussian  gallows-ropes  ;  never  wert 
thou  portion  of  a  National  Sahara-waltz,  twenty-five  millions 
running  distracted  to  fight  Brunswick ;  Knights  Errant  them¬ 
selves,  when  they  conquered  Giants,  usually  slew  the  Giants : 
quarter  was  only  for  other  Knights  Errant,  who  knew  cour¬ 
tesy  and  the  laws  of  battle.  The  French  Nation,  in  simul¬ 
taneous,  desperate  dead-pull,  and  as  if  by  miracle  of  mad¬ 
ness,  has  pulled  down  the  most  dread  Goliath,  huge  with  the 
growth  of  ten  centuries  ;  and  cannot  believe,  though  his  giant 
bulk,  covering  acres,  lies  prostrate,  bound  with  peg  and  pack¬ 
thread,  that  he  will  not  rise  again,  man-devouring  ;  that  the 
victory  is  not  partly  a  dream.  Terror  has  its  scepticism ; 
miraculous  victory  its  rage  of  vengeance.  Then  as  to  crimi¬ 
nality,  is  the  prostrated  Giant,  who  will  devour  us  if  he  rise, 
an  innocent  Giant  ?  Curate  Gregoire,  who  indeed  is  now  Con¬ 
stitutional  Bishop  Gregoire,  asserts,  in  the  heat  of  eloquence, 
that  Kingship  by  the  very  nature  of  it  is  a  crime  capital ;  that 
Kings’  Houses  are  as  wild  beasts’  dens.1  Lastly  consider  this  : 
that  there  is  on  record  a  Trial  of  Charles  First  !  This  printed 
Trial  of  Charles  First  is  sold  and  read  everywhere  at  present : 2 
—  Quel  spectacle !  Thus  did  the  English  People  judge  their 
Tyrant,  and  become  the  first  of  Free  Peoples  :  which  feat,  by 
the  grace  of  Destiny,  may  not  France  now  rival  ?  Scepticism 
of  terror,  rage  of  miraculous  victory,  sublime  spectacle  to  the 
universe,  — all  things  point  one  fatal  way. 


1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  21  Septembre,  An  ler  (1792). 

2  Moore’s  Journal,  ii.  165. 


234  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

Such  leading  questions,  and  their  endless  incidental  ones, 
—  of  September  Anarchists  and  Departmental  Guard ;  of 
Grain-Riots,  plaintive  Interior  Ministers ;  of  Armies,  Plassen- 
fratz  dilapidations  j  and  what  is  to  be  done  with  Louis,  — 
beleaguer  and  embroil  this  Convention  ;  which  would  so 
gladly  make  the  Constitution  rather.  All  which  questions, 
too,  as  we  often  urge  of  such  things,  are  in  growth ;  they 
grow  in  every  French  head ;  and  can  be  seen  growing  also, 
very  curiously,  in  this  mighty  welter  of  Parliamentary  De¬ 
bate,  of  Public  Business  which  the  Convention  has  to  do. 
A  question  emerges,  so  small  at  first ;  is  put  off,  submerged ; 
but  always  re-emerges  bigger  than  before.  It  is  a  curious, 
indeed  an  indescribable  sort  of  growth  which  such  things 
have. 

We  perceive,  however,  both  by  its  frequent  re-emergence 
and  by  its  rapid  enlargement  of  bulk,  that  this  Question  of 
King  Louis  will  take  the  lead  of  all  the  rest.  And  truly,  in 
that  case,  it  will  take  the  lead  in  a  much  deeper  sense.  For 
as  Aaron’s  Rod  swallowed  all  the  other  serpents  ;  so  will  the 
Foremost  Question,  whichever  may  get  foremost,  absorb  all 
other  questions  and  interests  ;  and  from  it  and  the  decision 
of  it  will  they  all,  so  to  speak,  be  born,  or  new-born,  and 
have  shape,  physiognomy  and  destiny  corresponding.  It  was 
appointed  of  Fate  that,  in  this  wide-weltering,  strangely 
growing,  monstrous  stupendous  imbroglio  of  Convention  Busi¬ 
ness,  the  grand  First-Parent  of  all  the  questions,  controver¬ 
sies,  measures  and  enterprises  which  were  to  be  evolved 
there  to  the  world’s  astonishment,  should  be  this  Question  of 
ICing  Louis. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  LOSER  PAYS. 

The  Sixth  of  November,  1792,  was  a  great  day  for  the  Re¬ 
public  :  outwardly,  over  the  Frontiers ;  inwardly,  in  the  Salle 
de  Manege. 


Chap.  IV.  THE  LOSER  PAYS.  235 

.November  6. 

Outwardly :  for  Dumouriez,  overrunning  the  Netherlands, 
did,  on  that  day,  come  in  contact  with  Saxe-Teschen  and 
the  Austrians ;  Dumouriez  wide-winged,  they  wide-winged ; 
at  and  around  the  village  of  Jemappes,  near  Mons.  And 
fire-liail  is  whistling  far  and  wide  there,  the  great  guns  play- 
ing,  and  the  small ;  so  many  green  Heights  getting  fringed 
and  maned  with  red  Fire.  And  Dumouriez  is  swept  back  on 
this  wing,  and  swept  back  on  that,  and  is  like  to  be  swept 
back  utterly  ;  when  he  rushes  up  in  person,  the  prompt  Poly¬ 
metis  ;  speaks  a  prompt  word  or  two  ;  and  then,  with  clear 
tenor-pipe,  “uplifts  the  Hymn  of  the  Marseillese,  entonna  la 
Marseillaise ,” 1  ten  thousand  tenor  or  bass  pipes  joining  ;  or 
say,  some  forty  thousand  in  all ;  for  every  heart  leaps  at 
the  sound :  and  so  with  rhythmic  march-melody,  waxing 
ever  quicker,  to  double  and  to  treble  quick,  they  rally,  they 
advance,  they  rush,  death-defying,  man-devouring ;  carry  bat¬ 
teries,  redoubts,  whatsoever  is  to  be  carried ;  and,  like  the  fire- 
whirlwind,  sweep  all  manner  of  Austrians  from  the  scene 
of  action.  Thus,  through  the  hands  of  Dumouriez,  may 
Rouget  de  Lille,  in  figurative  speech,  be  said  to  have  gained, 
miraculously,  like  another  Orpheus,  by  his  Marseillese  fiddle- 
strings  ( fidibus  canoris),  a  Victory  of  Jemappes  ;  and  con¬ 
quered  the  Low  Countries. 

Young  General  Egalite,  it  would  seem,  shone  brave  among 
the  bravest  on  this  occasion.  Doubtless  a  brave  Egalite ;  — 
whom  however  does  not  Dumouriez  rather  talk  of  oftener 
than  need  were  ?  The  Mother  Society  has  her  own  thoughts. 
As  for  the  Elder  Egalite,  he  flies  low  at  this  time ;  appears  in 
the  Convention  for  some  half-hour  daily,  with  rubicund,  pre¬ 
occupied  or  impassive  quasi-contemptuous  countenance ;  and 
then  takes  himself  away.2  The  Netherlands  are  conquered, 
at  least  overrun.  Jacobin  missionaries,  your  Prolys,  Pereiras, 
follow  in  the  train  of  the  Armies ;  also  Convention  Commis¬ 
sioners,  melting  church-plate,  revolutionizing  and  remodelling, 
—  among  whom  Danton,  in  brief  space,  does  immensities  of 
business ;  not  neglecting  his  own  wages  and  trade-profits, 
it  is  thought.  Hassenfratz  dilapidates  at  home;  Dumouriez 
1  Dumouriez,  Memoires,  iii.  174.  2  Moore,  ii.  148. 


236  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

grumbles  and  they  dilapidate  abroad  :  within  the  walls  there 
is  sinning,  and  without  the  walls  there  is  sinning. 

But  in  the  Hall  of  the  Convention,  at  the  same  hour  with 
this  victory  of  J emappes,  there  went  another  thing  forward  : 
Report,  of  great  length,  from  the  proper  appointed  Commit¬ 
tee,  on  the  Crimes  of  Louis.  The  Galleries  listen  breathless ; 
take  comfort,  ye  Galleries  :  Deputy  Valaze,  Reporter  on  this 
occasion,  thinks  Louis  very  criminal ;  and  that,  if  convenient, 
he  should  be  tried;  —  poor  Girondin  Valaze,  who  may  be  tried 
himself,  one  day !  Comfortable  so  far.  Nay  here  comes  a 
second  Committee-reporter,  Deputy  Mailhe,  with  a  Legal  Ar¬ 
gument,  very  prosy  to  read  now,  very  refreshing  to  hear 
then,  That,  by  the  Law  of  the  Country,  Louis  Capet  was 
only  called  Inviolable  by  a  figure  of  rhetoric ;  but  at  bottom 
was  perfectly  violable,  triable  ;  that  he  can,  and  even  should 
be  tried.  This  Question  of  Louis,  emerging  so  often  as  an 
angry  confused  possibility,  and  submerging  again,  has  emerged 
now  in  an  articulate  shape. 

Patriotism  growls  indignant  joy.  The  so-called  reign  of 
Equality  is  not  to  be  a  mere  name,  then,  but  a  thing !  Try 
Louis  Capet  ?  scornfully  ejaculates  Patriotism :  Mean  crimi¬ 
nals  go  to  the  gallows  for  a  purse  cut ;  and  this  chief  criminal, 
guilty  of  a  Prance  cut;  of  a  France  slashed  asunder  with 
Clotho-scissors  and  Civil  war  ;  with  his  victims  “  twelve  hun¬ 
dred  on  the  Tenth  of  August  alone’’  lying  low  in  the  Cata¬ 
combs,  fattening  the  passes  of  Argonne  Wood,  of  Valmy  and 
far  Fields  ;  he ,  such  chief  criminal,  shall  not  even  come  to 
the  bar? — For,  alas,  0  Patriotism!  add  we,  it  was  from 
of  old  said,  The  loser  pays!  It  is  he  who  has  to  pay  all 
scores,  run  up  by  whomsoever ;  on  him  must  all  breakages 
and  charges  fall ;  and  the  twelve  hundred  on  the  Tenth  of 
August  are  not  rebel  traitors,  but  victims  and  martyrs :  such 
is  the  law  of  quarrel. 

Patriotism,  nothing  doubting,  watches  over  this  Question 
of  the  trial,  now  happily  emerged  in  an  articulate  shape ; 
and  will  see  it  to  maturity,  if  the  gods  permit.  With  a  keen 
solicitude  Patriotism  watches ;  getting  ever  keener,  at  every 
new  difficulty,  as  Girondins  and  false  brothers  interpose  de- 


Chap.  Y.  STRETCHING  OF  FORMULAS.  287 

Oct.  29. 

lays ;  till  it  get  a  keenness  as  of  fixed-idea,  and  will  have  this 
Trial  and  no  earthly  thing  instead  of  it,  —  if  Equality  be 
not  a  name.  Love  of  Equality;  then  scepticism  of  terror, 
rage  of  victory,  sublime  spectacle  to  the  universe  :  all  these 
things  are  strong. 

But  indeed  this  Question  of  the  Trial,  is  it  not  to  all  per¬ 
sons  a  most  grave  one ;  filling  with  dubiety  many  a  Legis¬ 
lative  head !  Regicide  ?  asks  the  Gironde  Respectability  :  To 
kill  a  King,  and  become  the  horror  of  respectable  nations 
and  persons  ?  But  then  also,  to  save  a  king ;  to  lose  one’s 
footing  with  the  decided  Patriot ;  the  undecided  Patriot, 
though  never  so  respectable,  being  mere  hypothetic  froth 
and  no  footing  ?  —  The  dilemma  presses  sore  ;  and  between 
the  horns  of  it  you  wriggle  round  and  round.  Decision  is 
nowhere,  save  in  the  Mother  Society  and  her  Sons.  These 
have  decided,  and  go  forward:  the  others  wriggle  round  un¬ 
easily  within  their  dilemma-horns,  and  make  way  no-whither. 

.  - 

-  % 

CHAPTER  Y. 

STRETCHING  OF  FORMULAS. 

But  how  this  Question  of  the  Trial  grew  laboriously,  through 
the  weeks  of  gestation,  now  that  it  has  been  articulated  or  con¬ 
ceived,  were  superfluous  to  trace  here.  It  emerged  and  sub¬ 
merged  among  the.  infinite  of  questions  and  embroilments. 
The  Veto  of  Scoundrels  writes  plaintive  Letters  as  to  Anarchy ; 

concealed  Royalists,”  aided  by  Hunger,  produce  Riots  about 
Grain.  Alas,  it  is  but  a  week  ago,  these  Girondins  made  a  new 
fierce  onslaught  on  the  September  Massacres  ! 

For,  one  day,  among  the  last  of  October,  Robespierre,  being 
summoned  to  the  tribune  by  some  new  hint  of  that  old  calumny 
of  the  Dictatorship,  was  speaking  and  pleading  there,  with 
more  and  more  comfort  to  himself ;  till  rising  high  in  heart, 
he  cried  out  valiantly :  Is  there  any  man  here  that  dare  specifi- 


238  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

cally  accuse  me?  “  Moi /”  exclaimed  one.  Pause  of  deep 
silence :  a  lean  angry  little  Figure,  with  broad  bald  brow, 
strode  swiftly  towards  the  tribune,  taking  papers  from  its 
pocket:  “I  accuse  thee,  Robespierre,”  —  I,  Jean  Baptiste 
Louvet !  The  Sea-green  became  tallow-green  ;  shrinking  to  a 
corner  of  the  tribune :  Danton  cried,  “  Speak,  Robespierre ; 
there  are  many  good  citizens  that  listen  ;  ”  but  the  tongue  re¬ 
fused  its  office.  And  so  Louvet,  with  a  shrill  tone,  read  and 
recited  crime  after  crime :  dictatorial  temper,  exclusive  popu¬ 
larity,  bullying  at  elections,  mob-retinue,  September  Mas¬ 
sacres  ;  —  till  all  the  Convention  shrieked  again,  and  had 
almost  indicted  the  Incorruptible  there  on  the  spot.  Never 
did  the  Incorruptible  run  such  a  risk.  Louvet,  to  his  dying 
day,  will  regret  that  the  Gironde  did  not  take  a  bolder  attitude, 
and  extinguish  him  there  and  then. 

Not  so,  however :  the  Incorruptible,  about  to  be  indicted  in 
this  sudden  manner,  could  not  be  refused  a  week  of  delay. 
That  week  he  is  not  idle ;  nor  is  the  Mother  Society  idle,  — 
fierce-tremulous  for  her  chosen  son.  He  is  ready  at  the  day 
with  his  written  Speech;  smooth  as  a  Jesuit  Doctor’s ;  and 
convinces  some.  And  now  ?  Why  now  lazy  Yergniaud  does 
not  rise  with  Demosthenic  thunder :  poor  Louvet,  unprepared, 
can  do  little  or  nothing :  Barrere  proposes  that  these  compara¬ 
tively  despicable  u  personalities  ”  be  dismissed  by  order  of  the 
day  !  Order  of  the  day  it  accordingly  is.  Barbaroux  cannot 
even  get  a  hearing ;  not  though  he  rush  down  to  the  Bar,  and 
demand  to  be  heard  there  as  a  petitioner.1  The  Convention, 
eager  for  public  business  (with  that  first  articulate  emergence 
of  the  Trial  just  coming  on),  dismisses  these  comparative 
miseres  and  despicabilities :  splenetic  Louvet  must  digest  his 
spleen,  regretfully  forever :  Robespierre,  dear  to  Patriotism, 
is  dearer  for  the  dangers  he  has  run. 

This  is  the  second  grand  attempt  by  our  Girondin  Friends 
of  Order  to  extinguish  that  black-spot  in  their  domain ;  and 
we  see  they  have  made  it  far  blacker  and  wider  than  before  ! 
Anarchy,  September  Massacre :  it  is  a  thing  that  lies  hideous 

1  Louvet,  Mtfmoires  (Paris,  1823),  p.  52.  Moniteur  (Seances  du  29  Oc- 
tobre,  5  Novembre,  1792).  Moore,  ii.  178,  &c. 


Chap.  V.  STRETCHING  OF  FORMULAS.  239 

Oct.  29-Nov.  5. 

in  the  general  imagination ;  very  detestable  to  the  undecided 
Patriot,  of  Respectability :  a  thing  to  be  harped  on  as  often  as 
need  is.  Harp  on  it,  denounce  it,  trample  it,  ye  Girondin 
Patriots  :  —  and  yet  behold,  the  black-spot  will  not  trample 
down ;  it  wull  only,  as  we  say,  trample  blacker  and  wider : 
fools,  it  is  no  black-spot  of  the  surface,  but  a  well-spring  of  the 
deep  !  Consider  rightly,  it  is  the  Apex  of  the  everlasting 
Abyss,  this  black-spot,  looking  up  as  water  through  thin  ice ; 
—  say,  as  the  region  of  Nether  Darkness  through  your  thin 
film  of  Gironde  Regulation  and  Respectability :  trample  it  not, 
lest  the  film  break,  and  then  —  ! 

The  truth  is,  if  our  Gironde  Friends  had  an  understanding 
of  it,  where  were  French  Patriotism,  with  all  its  eloquence,  at 
this  moment,  had  not  that  same  great  Nether  Deep,  of  Bedlam, 
Fanaticism  and  Popular  wrath  and  madness,  risen  unfathom¬ 
able  on  the  Tenth  of  August  ?  French  Patriotism  were  an 
eloquent  Reminiscence;  swinging  on  Prussian  gibbets.  Nay, 
where,  in  few  months,  were  it  still,  should  the  same  great 
Nether  Deep  subside? — Nay,  as  readers  of  Newspapers  pre¬ 
tend  to  recollect,  this  hatefulness  of  the  September  Massacre 
is  itself  partly  an  after-thought :  readers  of  Newspapers  can 
quote  Gorsas  and  various  Brissotins  approving  of  the  Sep¬ 
tember  Massacre,  at  the  time  it  happened ;  and  calling  it  a 
salutary  vengeance.1  So  that  the  real  grief,  after  all,  were  not 
so  much  righteous  horror,  as  grief  that  one’s  own  power  was 
departing  ?  Unhappy  Girondins  ! 

In  the  J acobin  Society,  therefore,  the  decided  Patriot  com¬ 
plains  that  here  are  men  who  with  their  private  ambitions  and 
animosities  will  ruin  Liberty,  Equality  and  Brotherhood,  all 
three  :  they  check  the  spirit  of  Patriotism ;  throw  stumbling- 
blocks  in  its  way ;  and  instead  of  pushing  on,  all  shoulders 
at  the  wheel,  will  stand  idle  there,  spitefully  clamoring  what 
foul  ruts  there  are,  what  rude  jolts  we  give !  To  which  the 
Jacobin  Society  answers  with  angry  roar ;  —  with  angry  shriek, 
for  there  are  Citoyennes  too,  thick  crowded  in  the  galleries 
here.  Citoyennes  who  bring  their  seam  with  them,  or  their 

1  See  Hist.  Pari.  xvii.  401 ;  Newspapers  by  Gorsas  and  others  (cited  ibid. 
428). 


240  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

knitting-needles ;  and  shriek  or  knit  as  the  case  needs  ;  famed 
Tricoteuses ,  Patriot  Knitters ;  Mere  Duchesse,  or  the  like 
Deborah  and  Mother  of  the  Faubourgs,  giving  the  key-note. 
It  is  a  changed  J acobin  Society ;  and  a  still  changing.  Where 
Mother  Duchess  now  sits,  authentic  Duchesses  have  sat.  High- 
rouged  dames  went  once  in  jewels  and  spangles ;  now,  instead 
of  jewels,  you  may  take  the  knitting-needles  and  leave  the 
rouge :  the  rouge  will  gradually  give  place  to  natural  brown, 
clean  washed  or  even  unwashed :  and  Demoiselle  Theroigne 
herself  get  scandalously  fustigated.  Strange  enough;  it  is  the 
same  tribune  raised  in  mid-air,  where  a  high  Mirabeau,  a  high 
Barnave  and  Aristocrat  Lameths  once  thundered ;  whom  grad¬ 
ually  your  Brissots,  Guadets,  Yergniauds,  a  hotter  style  of 
Patriots  in  bonnet  rouge ,  did  displace ;  red  heat,  as  one  may 
say,  superseding  light.  And  now  your  Brissots  in  turn,  and 
Brissotins,  Rolandins,  Girondins,  are  becoming  supernumerary ; 
must  desert  the  sittings,  or  be  expelled:  the  light  of  the 
Mighty  Mother  is  burning  not  red  but  blue! — Provincial 
Daughter  Societies  loudly  disapprove  these  things ;  loudly 
demand  the  swift  reinstatement  of  such  eloquent  Girondins, 
the  swift  “  erasure  of  Marat,  radiation  de  Marat.”  The  Mother 
Society,  so  far  as  natural  reason  can  predict,  seems  ruining 
herself.  Nevertheless  she  has  at  all  crises  seemed  so;  she 
has  a  preternatural  life  in  her,  and  will  not  ruin. 

But,  in  a  fortnight  more,  this  great  Question  of  the  Trial, 
while  the  fit  Committee  is  assiduously  but  silently  working  on 
it,  receives  an  unexpected  stimulus.  Our  readers  remember 
poor  Louis’s  turn  for  smith-work :  how,  in  old  happier  days,  a 
certain  Sieur  Gamain  of  Versailles  was  wont  to  come  over  and 
instruct  him  in  lock-making ;  —  often  scolding  him,  they  say, 
for  his  numbness.  By  whom,  nevertheless,  the  royal  Appren¬ 
tice  had  learned  something  of  that  craft.  Hapless  Apprentice ; 
perfidious  Master-Smith  !  For  now,  on  this  20th  of  November, 
1792,  dingy  Smith  Gamain  comes  over  to  the  Paris  Munici¬ 
pality,  over  to  Minister  Boland,  with  hints  that  he,  Smith 
Gamain,  knows  a  thing ;  that,  in  May  last,  when  traitorous 
Correspondence  was  so  brisk,  he  and  the  royal  Apprentice 


241 


Chap.  V.  *  STRETCHING  OF  FORMULAS. 

November  20. 

fabricated  an  u  Iron  Press,  Armoire  de  Fer ,”  cunningly  insert¬ 
ing  the  same  in  a  wall  of  the  royal  chamber  in  the  Tuileries ; 
invisible  under  the  wainscot ;  where  doubtless  it  still  sticks  ! 
Perfidious  Gainain,  attended  by  the  proper  Authorities,  finds 
the  wainscot  panel  which  none  else  can  find ;  wrenches  it  up  ; 
discloses  the  Iron  Press  —  full  of  Letters  and  Papers  3  Ro¬ 
land  clutches  them  out ;  conveys  them  over  in  towels  to  the 
fit  assiduous  Committee,  which  sits  hard  by.  In  towels,  we 
6ay,  and  without  notarial  inventory ;  an  oversight  on  the  part 
of  Roland. 

Here,  however,  are  letters  enough :  which  disclose  to  a 
demonstration  the  Correspondence  of  a  traitorous  self-preserv- 
ing  Court ;  and  this  not  with  Traitors  only,  but  even  with 
Patriots  so-called !  Barnave’s  treason,  of  Correspondence 
with  the  Queen,  and  friendly  advice  to  her,  ever  since  that 
Varennes  Business,  is  hereby  manifest;  how  happy  that  we 
have  him,  this  Barnave,  lying  safe  in  the  Prison  of  Greno¬ 
ble,  since  September  last,  for  he  had  long  been  suspect ! 
Talleyrand’s  treason,  many  a  man’s  treason,  if  not  manifest 
hereby,  is  next  to  it.  Mirabeau’s  treason;  wherefore  his 
Bust  in  the  Hall  of  the  Convention  “is  veiled  with  gauze,” 
till  we  ascertain.  Alas,  it  is  too  ascertainable  !  His  Bust  in 
the  Hall  of  the  J acobins,  denounced  by  Robespierre  from  the 
tribune  in  mid-air,  is  not  veiled,  it  is  instantly  broken  to 
sherds  5  a  Patriot  mounting  swiftly  with  a  ladder,  and  shiver¬ 
ing  it  down  on  the  floor ;  —  it  and  others :  amid  shouts.1 
Such  is  their  recompense  and  amount  of  wages,  at  this  date  ; 
on  the  principle  of  supply  and  demand.  Smith  Gamain,  in¬ 
adequately  recompensed  for  the  present,  comes,  some  fifteen 
months  after,  with  a  humble  Petition ;  setting  forth  that  no 
sooner  was  that  important  Iron  Press  finished  off  by  him,  than 
(as  he  now  bethinks  himself)  Louis  gave  him  a  large  glass  of 
wine.  Which  large  glass  of  wine  did  produce  in  the  stomach 
of  Sieur  Gamain  the  terriblest  effects,  evidently  tending 
towards  death,  and  was  then  brought  up  by  an  emetic ;  but 
has,  notwithstanding,  entirely  ruined  the  constitution  of  Sieur 
Gamain;  so  that  he  cannot  work  for  his  family  (as  he  now 

1  Journal  des  Debats  des  Jacobins  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xxii.  296). 

10 


VOL.  IV. 


242 


REGICIDE. 


Book  XV. 
1792. 


bethinks  himself).  The  recompense  of  which  is  “  Pension  of 
Twelve  Hundred  Francs/’  and  “  honorable  mention.”  So  differ¬ 
ent  is  the  ratio  of  demand  and  supply  at  different  times. 


Thus,  amid  obstructions  and  stimulating  furtherances,  has 
the  Question  of  the  Trial  to  grow  ;  emerging  and  submerging ; 
fostered  by  solicitous  Patriotism.  Of  the  Orations  that  were 
spoken  on  it,  of  the  painfully  devised  Forms  of  Process  for 
managing  it,  the  Law  Arguments  to  prove  it  lawful,  and  all 
the  infinite  floods  of  Juridical  and  other  ingenuity  and  ora¬ 
tory,  be  no  syllable  reported  in  this  History.  Lawyer  inge¬ 
nuity  is  good :  but  what  can  it  profit  here  ?  If  the  truth 
must  be  spoken,  0  august  Senators,  the  only  Law  in  this  case 
is  :  Vce  victis,  The  loser  pays  !  Seldom  did  Robespierre  say  a 
wiser  word  than  the  hint  he  gave  to  that  effect,  in  his  oration, 
That  it  was  needless  to  speak  of  Law;  that  here,  if  never 
elsewhere,  our  Right  was  Might.  An  oration  admired  almost 
to  ecstasy  by  the  Jacobin  Patriot :  who  shall  say  that  Robes¬ 
pierre  is  not  a  thoroughgoing  man ;  bold  in  Logic  at  least  ? 
To  the  like  effect,  or  still  more  plainly,  spake  young  Saint-Just, 
the  black-haired,  mild-toned  youth.  Danton  is  on  mission,  in 
the  Netherlands,  during  this  preliminary  work.  The  rest,  far 
as  one  reads,  welter  amid  Law  of  Nations,  Social  Contract, 
J uristics,  Syllogistics  ;  to  us  barren  as  the  East-wind.  In  fact, 
what  can  be  more  unprofitable  than  the  sight  of  seven  hun¬ 
dred  and  forty-nine  ingenious  men  struggling  with  their  whole 
force  and  industry,  for  a  long  course  of  weeks,  to  do  at  bottom 
this :  To  stretch  out  the  old  Formula  and  Law  Phraseology,  so 
that  it  may  cover  the  new,  contradictory,  entirely  imcoverable 
Thing  ?  Whereby  the  poor  Formula  does  but  crack ,  and  one’s 
honesty  along  with  it !  The  thing  that  is  palpably  hot ,  burn¬ 
ing,  wilt  thou  prove  it,  by  syllogism,  to  be  a  freezing-mixture  ? 
This  of  stretching  out  formulas  till  they  crack,  is,  especially 
in  times  of  swift  change,  one  of  the  sorrowfulest  tasks  poor 
Humanity  has. 


Chap.  VI. 
December  1L 


AT  THE  BAR. 


243 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AT  THE  BAR. 

Meanwhile,  in  a  space  of  some  five  weeks,  we  have  got 
to  another  emerging  of  the  Trial,  and  a  more  practical  one 
than  ever. 

On  Tuesday  eleventh  of  December,  the  King’s  Trial  has 
emerged ,  very  decidedly :  into  the  streets  of  Paris ;  in  the 
shape  of  that  green  Carriage  of  Mayor  Chambon,  within 
which  sits  the  King  himself,  with  attendants,  on  his  way  to 
the  Convention  Hall !  Attended,  in  that  green  carriage,  by 
Mayors  Chambon,  Procureurs  Chanmette  ;  and  outside  of  it 
by  Commandants  Santerre,  with  cannon,  cavalry  and  double 
row  of  infantry ;  all  Sections  under  arms,  strong  Patrols 
scouring  all  streets ;  so  fares  he,  slowly  through  the  dull 
drizzling  weather :  and  about  two  o’clock  we  behold  him, 
“in  walnut-colored  great-coat,  redingote  noisette ,”  descending 
through  the  Place  Vendome,  towards  that  Salle  de  Manege ; 
to  be  indicted,  and  judicially  interrogated.  The  mysterious 
Temple  Circuit  has  given  up  its  secret;  which  now,  in  this 
walnut-colored  coat,  men  behold  with  eyes.  The  same  bodily . 
Louis  who  was  once  Louis  the  Desired,  fares  there :  hapless 
King,  he  is  getting  now  towards  port ;  his  deplorable  tarings 
and  voyagings  draw  to  a  close.  What  duty  remains  to  him 
henceforth,  that  of  placidly  enduring,  he  is  fit  to  do. 

The  singular  Procession  fares  on;  in  silence,  says  Prud- 
homme,  or  amid  growlings  of  the  Marseillese  Hymn ;  in 
silence,  ushers  itself  into  the  Hall  of  the  Convention,  San¬ 
terre  holding  Louis’s  arm  with  his  hand.  Louis  looks  round 
him,  with  composed  air,  to  see  what  kind  of  Convention  and 
Parliament  it  is.  Much  changed  indeed:  —  since  February 
gone  two  years,  when  our  Constituent,  then  busy,  spread 


244  KEGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

fleur-de-lys  velvet  for  us ;  and  we  came  over  to  say  a  kind 
word  here,  and  they  all  started  up  swearing  Fidelity  ;  and  all 
France  started  up  swearing,  and  made  it  a  Feast  of  Pikes ; 
which  has  ended  in  this  !  Barrere,  who  once  “  wept  ”  looking 
up  from  his  Editor’s-Desk,  looks  down  now  from  his  Presi- 
dent’s-Chair,  with  a  list  of  Fifty-seven  Questions ;  and  says, 
dry-eyed :  “  Louis,  you  may  sit  down.”  Louis  sits  down :  it  is 
the  very  seat,  they  say,  same  timber  and  stuffing,  from  which 
he  accepted  the  Constitution,  amid  dancing  and  illumination, 
autumn  gone  a  year.  So  much  woodwork  remains  identical ; 
so  much  else  is  not  identical.  Louis  sits  and  listens,  with  a 
composed  look  and  mind. 

Of  the  Fifty-seven  Questions  we  shall  not  give  so  much  as 
one.  They  are  questions  captiously  embracing  all  the  main 
Documents  seized  on  the  Tenth  of  August,  or  found  lately 
in  the  Iron  Press ;  embracing  all  the  main  incidents  of  the 
Devolution  History ;  and  they  ask,  in  substance,  this :  Louis, 
who  wert  King,  are  thou  not  guilty  to  a  certain  extent,  by  act 
and  written  document,  of  trying  to  continue  King?  Neither 
in  the  Answers  is  there  much  notable.  Mere  quiet  nega¬ 
tions,  for  most  part ;  an  accused  man  standing  on  the  simple 
basis  of  No :  I  do  not  recognize  that  document ;  I  did  not 
do  that  act ;  or  did  it  according  to  the  law  that  then  was. 
Whereupon  the  Fifty-seven  Questions,  and  Documents  to  the 
number  of  a  Hundred  and  Sixty-two,  being  exhausted  in  this 
manner,  Barrere  finishes,  after  some  three  hours,  with  his : 
“  Louis,  I  invite  }^ou  to  withdraw.” 

Louis  Withdraws,  under  Municipal  escort,  into  a  neighboring 
Committee-room;  having  first,  in  leaving  the  bar,  demanded 
to  have  Legal  Counsel.  He  declines  refreshment,  in  this  Com¬ 
mittee-room  ;  then,  seeing  Chaumette  busy  with  a  small  loaf 
which  a  grenadier  had  divided  with  him,  says,  he  will  take  a 
bit  of  bread.  It  is  five  o’clock ;  and  he  had  breakfasted  but 
slightly,  in  a  morning  of  such  drumming  and  alarm.  Chau¬ 
mette  breaks  his  half-loaf :  the  King  eats  of  the  crust ;  mounts 
the  green  Carriage,  eating ;  asks  now,  What  he  shall  do  with 
the  crumb  ?  Chaumette’s  clerk  takes  it  from  him ;  flings  it 
put  into  the  street.  Louis  says,  It  is  pity  to  fling  out  bread, 


BAHiSRE, 


245 


Chap.  VI.  .  AT  THE  BAR. 

December  26. 

in  a  time  of  dearth.  “  My  grandmother,”  remarks  Chaumette, 
“  used  to  say  to  me,  Little  boy,  never  waste  a  crumb  of  bread ; 
you  cannot  make  one.”  “  Monsieur  Chaumette,”  answers  Louis, 
« your  grandmother  seems  to  have  been  a  sensible  woman.”  1 
Poor  innocent  mortal ;  so  quietly  he  waits  the  drawing  of  the 
lot;  —  fit  to  do  this  at  least  well;  Passivity  alone,  without 
Activity,  sufficing  for  it!  He  talks  once  of  travelling  over 
Prance  by  and  by,  to  have  a  geographical  and  topographical 
view  of  it ;  being  from  of  old  fond  of  geography.  —  The 
Temple  Circuit  again  receives  him,  closes  on  him;  gazing 
Paris  may  retire  to  its  hearths  and  coffee-houses,  to  its  clubs 
and  theatres :  the  damp  Darkness  has  sunk,  and  with  it  the 
drumming  and  patrolling  of  this  strange  Day. 

Louis  is  now  separated  from  his  Queen  and  Pamily ;  given 
up  to  his  simple  reflections  and  resources.  Dull  lie  these  stone 
walls  round  him ;  of  his  loved  ones  none  with  him.  “  In  this 
state  of  uncertainty,”  providing  for  the  worst,  he  writes  his 
Will:  a  Paper  which  can  still  be  read;  full  of  placidity,  sim¬ 
plicity,  pious  sweetness.  The  Convention,  after  debate,  has: 
granted  him  Legal  Counsel,  of  his  own  choosing.  Advocate 
Target  feels  himself  “  too  old,”  being  turned  of  fifty-four ;  and 
declines.  He  had  gained  great  honor  once,  defending  Rohan 
the  Necklace-Cardinal ;  but  will  gain  none  here.  Advocate 
Tronchet,  some  ten  years  older,  does  not  decline.  Nay  behold, 
good  old  Malesherbes  steps  forward  voluntarily ;  to  the  last 
of  his  fields,  the  good  old  hero !  He  is  gray  with  seventy 
years  :  he  says,  “  I  was  twice  called  to  the  Council  of  him 
who  was  my  Master,  when  all  the  world  coveted  that  honor ; 
and  I  owe  him  the  same  service  now,  when  it  has  become  one 
which  many  reckon  dangerous.”  These  two,  with  a  younger 
Deseze,  whom  they  will  select  for  pleading,  are  busy  over  that 
Fifty-and-sevenfold  Indictment,  over  the  Hundred  and  Sixty- 
two  Documents  ;  Louis  aiding  them  as  he  can. 

A  great  Thing  is  now  therefore  in  open  progress ;  all  men, 
in  all  lands,  watching  it.  By  what  Forms  and  Methods  shall 
the  Convention  acquit  itself,  in  such  manner  that  there  rest 
1  Prudhomme’s  Newspaper  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xxi.  314). 


246  REGICIDE.  Book  XY. 

V  3-792. 

not  on  it  even  tlie  suspicion  of  blame  ?  Difficult  that  will 
be !  The  Convention,  really  much  at  a  loss,  discusses  and 
deliberates.  All  day  from  morning  to  night,  day  after  day, 
the  Tribune  drones  with  oratory  on  this  matter;  one  must 
stretch  the  old  Formula  to  cover  the  new  Thing.  The  Patriots 
of  the  Mountain,  whetted  ever  keener,  clamor  for  despatch 
above  all;  the  only  good  Form  will  be  a  swift  one.  Never¬ 
theless  the  Convention  deliberates  ;  the  Tribune  drones,  — 
drowned  indeed  in  tenor,  and  even  in  treble,  from  time  to 
time  ;  the  whole  Hall  shrilling  up  round  it  into  pretty  fre¬ 
quent  wrath  and  provocation.  It  has  droned  and  shrilled 
well-nigh  a  fortnight,  before  we  can  decide,  this  shrillness 
getting  ever  shriller,  That  on  Wednesday  26th  of  December, 
Louis  shall  appear  and  plead.  His  Advocates  complain  that 
it  is  fatally  soon ;  which  they  well  might  as  Advocates :  but 
without  remedy ;  to  Patriotism  it  seems  endlessly  late. 

On  Wednesday  therefore,  at  the  cold  dark  hour  of  eight 
in  the  morning,  all  Senators  are  at  their  post.  Indeed  they 
warm  the  cold  hour,  as  we  find,  by  a  violent  effervescence, 
such  as  is  too  common  now ;  some  Louvet  or  Buzot  attack¬ 
ing  some  Tallien,  Chabot ;  and  so  the  whole  Mountain  effer¬ 
vescing  against  the  whole  Gironde.  Scarcely  is  this  done, 
at  nine,  when  Louis  and  his  three  Advocates,  escorted  by 
the  clang  of  arms  and  Santerre’s  National  force,  enter  the 
Hall. 

Deseze  unfolds  his  papers;  honorably  fulfilling  his  peril¬ 
ous  office,  pleads  for  the  space  of  three  hours.  An  honor¬ 
able  Pleading,  “  composed  almost  overnight ;  ”  courageous  yet 
discreet ;  not  without  ingenuity,  and  soft  pathetic  eloquence  : 
Louis  fell  on  his  neck,  when  they  had  withdrawn,  and  said 
with  tears,  11  Mon  pauvre  Deseze  !  ”  Louis  himself,  before  with¬ 
drawing,  had  added  a  few  words,  “  perhaps  the  last  he  would 
utter  to  them  :  ”  how  it  pained  his  heart,  above  all  things,  to 
be  held  guilty  of  that  bloodshed  on  the  Tenth  of  August ;  or 
of  ever  shedding  or  wishing'to  shed  French  blood.  So  saying, 
he  withdrew  from  that  Hall ;  —  having  indeed  finished  his 
work  there.  Many  are  the  strange  errands  he  has  had  thith¬ 
er  ;  but  this  strange  one  is  the  last. 


Chap.  VI.  AT  THE  BAR.  247 

December  26. 

And  now,  why  will  the  Convention  loiter  ?  Here  is  the 
Indictment  and  Evidence ;  here  is  the  Pleading :  does  not 
the  rest  follow  of  itself  ?  The  Mountain,  and  Patriotism  in 
general,  clamors  still  louder  for  despatch;  for  Permanent- 
session,  till  the  task  be  done.  Nevertheless  a  doubting, 
apprehensive  Convention  decides  that  it  will  still  deliberate 
first;  that  all  Members,  who  desire  it,  shall  have  leave  to 
speak. — To  your  desks,  therefore,  ye  eloquent  Members! 
Down  with  your  thoughts,  your  echoes  and  hearsays  of 
thoughts ;  now  is  the  time  to  show  oneself ;  France  and  the 
Universe  listens  !  Members  are  not  wanting :  Oration,  spoken 
Pamphlet  follows  spoken  Pamphlet,  with  what  eloquence  it 
can :  President’s  List  swells  ever  higher  with  names  claiming 
to  speak ;  from  day  to  day,  all  days  and  all  hours,  the  constant 
Tribune  drones  ;  —  shrill  Galleries  supplying,  very  variably, 
the  tenor  and  treble.  It  were  a  dull  tone  otherwise. 

The  Patriots,  in  Mountain  and  Galleries,  or  taking  counsel 
nightly  in  Section-house,  in  Mother  Society,  amid  their  shrill 
Tricoteuses,  have  to  watch  lynx-eyed ;  to  give  voice  when 
needful;  occasionally  very  loud.  Deputy  Thuriot,  he  who 
was  Advocate  Thuriot,  who  was  Elector  Thuriot,  and  from 
the  top  of  the  Bastille  saw  Saint-Antoine  rising  like  the 
ocean ;  this  Thuriot  can  stretch  a  Formula  as  heartily  as 
most  men.  Cruel  Billaud  is  not  silent,  if  you  incite  him. 
Nor  is  cruel  Jean-Bon  silent;  a  kind  of  Jesuit  he  too;  — 
write  him  not,  as  the  Dictionaries  too  often  do,  Jambon ,  which 
signifies  mere  Ham  ! 

But,  on  the  whole,  let  no  man  conceive  it  possible  that 
Louis  is  not  guilty.  The  only  question  for  a  reasonable  man 
is  or  was  :  Can  the  Convention  judge  Louis  ?  Or  must  it  be 
the  whole  People ;  in  Primary  Assembly,  and  with  delay  ? 
Always  delay,  ye  Girondins,  false  hommes  (Petat !  so  bellows 
Patriotism,  its  patience  almost  failing.  —  But  indeed,  if  we 
consider  it,  what  shall  these  poor  Girondins  do  ?  Speak 
their  conviction  that  Louis  is  a  Prisoner  of  War ;  and  can¬ 
not  be  put  to  death  without  injustice,  solecism,  peril  ?  Speak 
such  conviction  ;  and  lose  utterly  your  footing  with  the  de¬ 
cided  Patriot !  Nay  properly  it  is  not  even  a  conviction. 


248 


REGICIDE. 


Book  XV. 
1792. 

but  a  conjecture  and  dim  puzzle.  How  many  poor  Girondins 
are  sure  of  but  one  thing :  That  a  man  and  Girondin  ought 
to  have  footing  somewhere,  and  to  stand  firmly  on  it ;  keep¬ 
ing  well  with  the  Respectable  Classes  !  This  is  what  con¬ 
viction  and  assurance  of  faith  they  have.  They  must  wriggle 
painfully  between  their  dilemma-horns.1 

Nor  is  France  idle,  nor  Europe.  It  is  a  Heart  this  Con¬ 
vention,  as  we  said,  which  sends  out  influences,  and  receives 
them.  A  King’s  Execution,  call  it  Martyrdom,  call  it  Pun¬ 
ishment,  were  an  influence  !  —  Two  notable  influences  this 
Convention  has  already  sent  forth  over  all  Nations ;  much 
to  its  own  detriment.  On  the  19th  of  November,  it  emitted 
a  Decree,  and  has  since  confirmed  and  unfolded  the  details 
of  it,  That  any  Nation  which  might  see  good  to  shake  off  the 
fetters  of  Despotism  was  thereby,  so  to  speak,  the  Sister  of 
France,  and  should  have  help  and  countenance.  A  Decree 
much  noised  of  by  Diplomatists,  Editors,  International  Law¬ 
yers;  such  a  Decree  as  no  living  Fetter  of  Despotism,  nor 
Person  in  Authority  anywhere,  can  approve  of !  It  was  Dep¬ 
uty  Chambon  the  Girondin  who  propounded  this  Decree ;  — 
at  bottom  perhaps  as  a  flourish  of  rhetoric. 

The  second  influence  we  speak  of  had  a  still  poorer  origin : 
in  the  restless  loud-rattling  slightly  furnished  head  of  one 
Jacob  Dupont  from  the  Loire  country.  The  Convention  is 
speculating  on  a  plan  of  National  Education  :  Deputy  Du¬ 
pont  in  his  speech  says,  “  I  am  free  to  avow,  M.  le  President, 
that  I  for  my  part  am  an  Atheist,”2 *  —  thinking  the  world 
might  like  to  know  that.  The  French  world  received  it 
without  commentary ;  or  with  no  audible  commentary,  so 
loud  was  France  otherwise.  The  Foreign  world  received  it 
with  confutation,  with  horror  and  astonishment ; 8  a  most 
miserable  influence  this  !  And  now  if  to  these  two  were 
added  a  third  influence  and  sent  pulsing  abroad  over  all  the 
Earth :  that  of  Regicide  ? 

1  See  Extracts  from  their  Newspapers  in  Hist.  Pari.  xxi.  1-38,  &c. 

2  Moniteur,  Seance  du  14  Decembre,  1792. 

8  Mrs.  Hannah  More,  Letter  to  Jacob  Dupont  (London,  1793)  ;  &c.  &c. 


AT  THE  BAR. 


249 


Chap.  VI. 

December. 

Foreign  Courts  interfere  in  this  Trial  of  Louis ;  Spain, 
England :  not  to  be  listened  to  ;  though  they  come,  as  it  were, 
at  least  Spain  comes,  with  the  olive-branch  in  one  hand,  and 
the  sword  without  scabbard  in  the  other.  But  at  home  too, 
from  out  of  this  circumambient  Paris  and  France,  what 
influences  come  thick-pulsing !  Petitions  flow  in ;  pleading 
for  equal  justice,  in  a  reign  of  so-called  Equality.  The  living 
Patriot  pleads  ;  —  0  ye  National  Deputies,  do  not  the  dead 
Patriots  plead  ?  The  twelve  hundred  that  lie  in  cold  ob¬ 
struction,  do  not  they  plead ;  and  petition,  in  Death’s  dumb- 
show,  from  their  narrow  house  there,  more  eloquently  than 
speech  ?  Crippled  Patriots  hop  on  crutches  round  the  Salle 
de  Manege,  demanding  justice.  The  Wounded  of  the  Tenth 
of  August,  the  Widows  and  Orphans  of  the  Killed  petition 
in  a  body ;  and  hop  and  defile,  eloquently  mute,  through  the 
Hall :  one  wounded  Patriot,  unable  to  hop,  is  borne  on  his 
bed  thither,  and  passes  shoulder-high,  in  the  horizontal  pos¬ 
ture.1  The  Convention  Tribune,  which  has  paused  at  such 
sight,  commences  again,  —  droning  mere  J uristic  Oratory. 
But  out  of  doors  Paris  is  piping  ever  higher.  Bull-voiced 
Saint-Huruge  is  heard ;  and  the  hysteric  eloquence  of  Mother 
Duchess ;  “  Varlet,  Apostle  of  Liberty,”  with  pike  and  red 
cap,  flies  hastily,  carrying  his  oratorical  folding-stool.  Justice 
on  the  traitor  !  cries  all  the  Patriot  world.  Consider  also  this 
other  cry,  heard  loud  on  the  streets  :  “  Give  us  Bread,  or  else 
kill  us  !  ”  Bread  and  Equality  ;  Justice  on  the  Traitor,  that 
we  may  have  Bread  ! 

The  Limited  or  undecided  Patriot  is  set  against  the  De¬ 
cided.  Mayor  Chambon  heard  of  dreadful  rioting  at  the 
Theatre  de  la  Nation :  it  had  come  to  rioting,  and  even  to 
fist-work,  between  the  Decided  and  the  Undecided,  touch¬ 
ing  a  new  Drama  called  Ami  des  Lois  (Friend  of  the  Laws). 
One  of  the  poorest  Dramas  ever  written ;  but  which  had 
didactic  applications  in  it  ;  wherefore  powdered  wigs  of 
Friends  of  Order  and  black  hair  of  Jacobin  heads  are  flying 
there ;  and  Mayor  Chambon  hastens  with  Santerre,  in  hopes 
to  quell  it.  Far  from  quelling  it,  our  poor  Mayor  gets  so 
1  Hist.  Pari.  xxii.  131  ;  Moore,  &c. 


250  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1792. 

“  squeezed/’  says  the  Report,  and  likewise  so  blamed  and 
bullied,  say  we,  —  that  he,  with  regret,  quits  the  brief  Mayor¬ 
alty  altogether,  “his  lungs  being  affected.”  This  miserable 
Ami  des  Lois  is  debated  of  in  the  Convention  itself ;  so 
violent,  mutually  enraged,  are  the  Limited  Patriots  and  the 
Unlimited.1 

Between  which  two  classes,  are  not  Aristocrats  enough,  and 
Crypto-Aristocrats,  busy  ?  Spies  running  over  from  London 
with  important  Packets  ;  spies  pretending  to  run !  One  of 
these  latter,  Yiard  was  the  name  of  him,  pretended  to  accuse 
Roland,  and  even  the  Wife  of  Roland :  to  the  joy  of  Chabot 
and  the  Mountain.  But  the  Wife  of  Roland  came,  being  sum¬ 
moned,  on  the  instant,  to  the  Convention  Hall ;  came,  in  her 
high  clearness ;  and,  with  few  clear  words,  dissipated  this 
Viard  into  despicability  and  air,  all  Friends  of  Order  applaud¬ 
ing.2  So,  with  Theatre-riots,  and  “  Bread,  or  else  kill  us ;  ” 
with  Rage,  Hunger,  preternatural  Suspicion,  does  this  wild 
Paris  pipe.  Roland  grows  ever  more  querulous,  in  his  Mes¬ 
sages  and  Letters ;  rising  almost  to  the  hysterical  pitch.  Marat, 
whom  no  power  on  Earth  can  prevent  seeing  into  traitors 
and  Rolands,  takes  to  bed  for  three  days  ;  almost  dead,  the 
invaluable  People’s-Friend,  with  heart-break,  with  fever  and 
headache  :  “  0  Leuple  babillard,  si  tu  savais  agir,  People  of 
Babblers,  if  thou  couldst  but  act!” 

To  crown  all,  victorious  Dumouriez,  in  these  FTew-y  ear’s 
days,  is  arrived  in  Paris ;  —  one  fears,  for  no  good.  He  pre¬ 
tends  to  be  complaining  of  Minister  Pache,  and  Hassenfratz 
dilapidations ;  to  be  concerting  measures  for  the  spring  Cam¬ 
paign  :  one  finds  him  much  in  the  company  of  the  Girondins. 
Plotting  with  them  against  Jacobinism,  against  Equality, 
and  the  Punishment  of  Louis  ?  We  have  Letters  of  his  to 
the  Convention  itself.  Will  he  act  the  old  Lafayette  part, 
this  new  victorious  General  ?  Let  him  withdraw  again ;  not 
undenounced.3 

And  still,  in  the  Convention  Tribune,  it  drones  continually, 
mere  Juristic  Eloquence,  and  Hypothesis  without  Action  ;  and 

1  Hist.  Pari  xxiii.  31,  48,  &c.  2  Moniteur,  Seance  du  7  Decembre,  1792. 

8  Dumouriez,  Mfmoires,  iii.  c.  4. 


Chap.  YII.  THE  THREE  VOTINGS.  251 

1793. 

there  are  still  fifties  on  the  President’s  List.  Nay  these 
Gironde  Presidents  give  their  own  party  preference  :  we  sus¬ 
pect  they  play  foul  with  the  List ;  men  of  the  Mountain  cannot 
be  heard.  And  still  it  drones,  all  through  December  into 
January  and  a  New  year  ;  and  there  is  no  end  !  Paris  pipes 
round  it ;  multitudinous  ;  ever  higher,  to  the  note  of  the  whirl¬ 
wind.  Paris  will  “  bring  cannon  from  Saint-Denis  ;  ”  there  is 
talk  of  “  shutting  the  Barriers,”  —  to  Roland’s  horror. 

Whereupon,  behold,  the  Convention  Tribune  suddenly  ceases 
droning:  we. cut  short,  be  on  the  List  who  likes;  and  make 
end.  On  Tuesday  next,  the  Fifteenth  of  January,  1793,  it 
shall  go  to  the  Vote,  name  by  name ;  and  one  way  or  other, 
this  great  game  play  itself  out ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  THREE  VOTINGS. 

Is  Louis  Capet  guilty  of  conspiring  against  Liberty  ?  Shall 
our  Sentence  be  itself  final,  or  need  ratifying  by  Appeal  to 
the  People  ?  If  guilty,  what  Punishment  ?  This  is  the  form 
agreed  to,  after  uproar  and  “  several  hours  of  tumultuous  in¬ 
decision  :  ”  these  are  the  Three  successive  Questions,  whereon 
the  Convention  shall  now  pronounce.  Paris  floods  round  their 
Hall ;  multitudinous,  many-sounding.  Europe  and  all  Nations 
listen  for  their  answer.  Deputy  after  Deputy  shall  answer  to 
his  name :  Guilty  or  Not  guilty  ? 

As  to  the  Guilt,  there  is,  as  above  hinted,  no  doubt  in  the 
mind  of  Patriot  men.  Overwhelming  majority  pronounces 
Guilt ;  the  unanimous  Convention  votes  for  Guilt,  only  some 
feeble  twenty -eight  voting  not  Innocence,  but  refusing  to  vote 
at  all.  Neither  does  the  Second  Question  prove  doubtful,  what¬ 
ever  the  Girondins  might  calculate.  Would  not  Appeal  to  the 
People  be  another  name  for  civil  war  ?  Majority  of  two  to 
one  answers  that  there  shall  be  no  Appeal :  this  also  is  settled. 
Loud  Patriotism,  now  at  ten  o’clock,  may  hush  itself  for  the 


252 


REGICIDE. 


Book  XV. 
1793. 


night ;  and  retire  to  its  bed  not  without  hope.  Tuesday  has 
gone  well.  On  the  morrow  comes,  What  Punishment  ?  On 
the  morrow  is  the  tug  of  war. 


Consider  therefore  if,  on  this  Wednesday  morning,  there  is 
an  affluence  of  Patriotism;  if  Paris  stands  a-tiptoe,  and  all 
Deputies  are  at  their  post !  Seven  hundred  and  forty -nine  hon¬ 
orable  Deputies  ;  only  some  twenty  absent  on  mission,  Duchatel 
and  some  seven  others  absent  by  sickness.  Meanwhile  ex¬ 
pectant  Patriotism  and  Paris  standing  a-tiptoe  have  need  of 
patience.  Por  this  Wednesday  again  passes  in  debate  and 
effervescence;  Girondins  proposing  that  a  “ majority  of  three- 
fourths  ”  shall  be  required ;  Patriots  fiercely  resisting  them. 
Danton,  who  has  just  got  back  from  mission  in  the  Nether¬ 
lands,  does  obtain  “  order  of  the  day  ”  on  this  Girondin  pro¬ 
posal;  nay  he  obtains  farther  that  we*  decide  sans  desemparer , 
in  Permanent-session,  till  we  have  done. 

And  so,  finally,  at  eight  in  the  evening  this  Third  stupendous 
Voting,  by  roll-call  or  appel  nominal,  does  begin.  What  Pun¬ 
ishment  ?  Girondins  undecided,  Patriots  decided,  men  afraid 
of  Royalty,  men  afraid  of  Anarchy,  must  answer  here  and  now. 
Infinite  Patriotism,  dusky  in  the  lamplight,  floods  all  corridors, 
crowds  all  galleries  ;  sternly  waiting  to  hear.  Shrill-sounding 
Ushers  summon  you  by  Name  and  Department ;  you  must  rise 
to  the  Tribune,  and  say. 

Eye-witnesses  have  represented  this  scene  of  the  Third 
Voting,  and  of  the  votings  that  grew  out  of  it,  —  a  scene  pro¬ 
tracted,  like  to  be  endless,  lasting,  with  few  brief  intervals, 
from  Wednesday  till  Sunday  morning,  —  as  one  of  the  strangest 
seen  in  the  Revolution.  Long  night  wears  itself  into  day, 
morning’s  paleness  is  spread  over  all  faces  ;  and  again  the 
wintry  shadows  sink,  and  the  dim  lamps  are  lit :  but  through 
day  and  night  and  the  vicissitudes  of  hours,  Member  after 
Member  is  mounting  continually  those  Tribune-steps;  pausing 
aloft  there,  in  the  clearer  upper  light,  to  speak  his  Fate-word ; 
then  diving  down  into  the  dusk  and  throng  again.  Like  Phan¬ 
toms  in  the  hour  of  midnight ;  most  spectral,  pandemonial ! 
Never  did  President  Vergniaud,  or  any  terrestrial  President, 


Chap.  VII.  THE  THREE  VOTINGS.  253 

Jaa.  16.-19. 

superintend  the  like.  A  King’s  Life,  and  so  much  else  that 
depends  thereon,  hangs  trembling  in  the  balance.  Man  after 
man  mounts ;  the  buzz  hushes  itself  till  he  have  spoken : 
Death  ;  Banishment ;  Imprisonment  till  the  Peace.  Many  say, 
Death ;  with  what. cautious  well-studied  phrases  and  paragraphs 
they  could  devise,  of  explanation,  of  enforcement,  of  faint 
recommendation  to  mercy.  Many  too  say,  Banishment ;  some¬ 
thing  short  of  Death.  The  balance  trembles,  none  can  yet 
guess  whitherward.  Whereat  anxious  Patriotism  bellows ; 
irrepressible  by  Ushers. 

The  poor  G-irondins,  many  of  them,  under  such  fierce  bel¬ 
lowing  of  Patriotism,  say  Death;  justifying,  motivant,  that 
most  miserable  word  of  theirs  by  some  brief  casuistry  and 
Jesuitry.  Vergniaud  himself  says,  Death;  justifying  by  jes- 
uitry.  Rich  Lepelletier  Saint-Pargeau  had  been  of  the  No¬ 
blesse,  and  then  of  the  Patriot  Left  Side,  in  the  Constituent ; 
and  had  argued  and  reported,  there  and  elsewhere,  not  a  little, 
against  Capital  Punishment :  nevertheless  he  now  says  Death ; 
a  word  which  may  cost  him  dear.  Manuel  did  surely  rank 
with  the  Decided  in  August  last ;  but  he  has  been  sinking  and 
backsliding  ever  since  September  and  the  scenes  of  September. 
In  this  Convention,  above  all,  no  word  he  could  speak  would 
find  favor ;  he  says  now,  Banishment ;  and  in  mute  wrath  quits 
the  place  forever,  —  much  hustled  in  the  corridors.  Philippe 
£ galite  votes,  in  his  soul  and  conscience,  Death :  at  the  sound 
of  which  and  of  whom,  even  Patriotism  shakes  its  head ;  and 
there  runs  a  groan  and  shudder  through  this  Hall  of  Doom. 
Robespierre’s  vote  cannot  be  doubtful ;  his  speech  is  long. 
]fre n  see  the  figure  of  shrill  Sieyes  ascend;  hardly  pausing, 
passing  merely,  this  figure  says,  “  La  Mort  sans  ‘phrase ,  Death 
without  phrases ;  ”  and  fares  onward  and  downward.  Most 
spectral,  pandemonial ! 

And  yet  if  the  Reader  fancy  it  of  a  funereal,  sorrowful  or 
even  grave  character,  he  is  far  mistaken  :  “the  Ushers  in  the 
Mountain  quarter,”  says  Mercier,  “had  become  as  Box-keep¬ 
ers  at  the  Opera ;  ”  opening  and  shutting  of  Galleries  for  privi¬ 
leged  persons,  for  “  D’Orleans  Egalite’s  mistresses,”  or  other 
high-dizened  women  of  condition,  rustling  with  laces  and  tri- 


254  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1793. 

color.  Gallant  Deputies  pass  and  repass  thitherward,  treating 
them  with  ices,  refreshments  and  small-talk ;  the  high-dizened 
heads  beck  responsive ;  some  have  their  card  and  pin,  pricking 
down  the  Ayes  and  Noes,  as  at  a  game  of  Rouge-et-Noir.  Far¬ 
ther  aloft  reigns  Mere  Duchesse  with  her  unrouged  Amazons  ; 
she  cannot  be  prevented  making  long  Hahas,  when  the  vote  is 
not  La  Mort.  In  these  Galleries  there  is  refection,  drinking 
of  wine  and  brandy  “  as  in  open  tavern,  en  pleine  tabagie.” 
Betting  goes  on  in  all  coffee-houses  of  the  neighborhood.  But 
within  doors,  fatigue,  impatience,  uttermost  weariness  sits 
now  on  all  visages ;  lighted  up  only  from  time  to  time  by 
turns  of  the  game.  Members  have  fallen  asleep;  Ushers  come 
and  awaken  them  to  vote  :  other  Members  calculate  whether 
they  shall  not  have  time  to  run  and  dine.  Figures  rise,  like 
phantoms,  pale  in  the  dusky  lamplight ;  utter  from  this  Tri¬ 
bune,  only  one  word:  Death.  “  Tout  est .optique,”  says  Mer- 
cier,  “  The  world  is  all  an  optical  shadow.” 1  Deep  in  the 
Thursday  night,  when  the  Voting  is  done,  and  Secretaries  are 
summing  it  up,  sick  Duchatel,  more  spectral  than  another, 
comes  borne  on  a  chair,  wrapt  in  blankets,  in  “  nightgown  and 
nightcap,”  to  vote  for  Mercy :  one  vote  it  is  thought  may  turn 
the  scale. 

Ah  no  !  In  profoundest  silence,  President  Vergniaud,  with 
a  voice  full  of  sorrow,  has  to  say  :  “  I  declare,  in  the  name  of 
the  Convention,  that  the  punishment  it  pronounces  on  Louis 
Capet  is  that  of  Death.”  Death  by  a  small  majority  of  Fifty- 
three.  Nay,  if  we  deduct  from  the  one  side,  and  add  to  the 
other,  a  certain  Twenty-six,  who  said  Death  but  coupled  some 
faintest  ineffectual  surmise  of  mercy  with  it,  the  majority  will 
be  but  One . 

Death  is  the  sentence :  but  its  execution  ?  It  is  not  exe¬ 
cuted  yet !  Scarcely  is  the  vote  declared  when  Louis’s  Three 
Advocates  enter  ;  with  Protest  in  his  name,  with  demand  for 
Delay,  for  Appeal  to  the  People.  For  this  do  Deseze  and 
Tronchet  plead,  with  brief  eloquence :  brave  old  Malesherbes 
pleads  for  it  with  eloquent  want  of  eloquence,  in  broken  sen- 
1  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  vi.  156-159 ;  Montgaillard,  iii.  348-387 ;  Moore,  &c. 


Chap.  VII.  THE  THREE  VOTINGS.  255 

January  20. 

fences,  in  embarrassment  and  sobs  ;  that  brave  time-honored 
face,  with  its  gray  strength,  its  broad  sagacity  and  honesty,  is 
mastered  with  emotion,  melts  into  dumb  tears.1  —  They  reject 
the  Appeal  to  the  People;  that  having  been  already  settled. 
But  as  to  the  Delay,  what  they  call  Sursis,  it  shall  be  con¬ 
sidered;  shall  be  voted  for  to-morrow:  at  present  we  adjourn. 
Whereupon  Patriotism  “  hisses  ”  from  the  Mountain :  but  a 
“ tyrannical  majority”  has  so  decided,  and  adjourns. 

There  is  still  this  fourth  Vote,  then,  growls  indignant 
Patriotism :  —  this  vote,  and  who  knows  what  other  votes, 
and  adjournments  of  voting;  and  the  whole  matter  still  hover¬ 
ing  hypothetical !  And  at  every  new  vote  those  J esuit  Giron- 
dins,  even  they  who  voted  for  Death,  would  so  fain  find  a 
loophole  !  Patriotism  must  watch  and  rage.  Tyrannical  ad¬ 
journments  there, have  been;  one,  and  now  another  at  mid¬ 
night  on  plea  of  fatigue,  —  all  Friday  wasted  in  hesitation  and 
higgling ;  in  re-counting  of  the  votes,  which  are  found  correct 
as  they  stood  !  Patriotism  bays  fiercer  than  ever ;  Patriotism, 
by  long  watching,  has  become  red-eyed,  almost  rabid. 

“  Delay  :  yes  or  no  ?  ”  men  do  vote  it  finally,  all  Saturday, 
all  day  and  night.  Men’s  nerves  are  worn  out,  men’s  hearts 
are  desperate ;  now  it  shall  end.  Vergniaud,  spite  of  the  bay¬ 
ing,  ventures  to  say  Yes,  Delay ;  though  he  had  voted  Death. 
Philippe  Egalite  says,  in  his  soul  and  conscience,  No.  The 
next  Member  mounting:  “ Since  Philippe  says  No,  I  for  my 
part  say  Yes,  moi  je  dis  Oui.”  The  balance  still  trembles. 
Till  finally,  at  three  o’clock  on  Sunday  morning,  we  have: 
No  Delay ,  by  a  majority  of  Seventy ;  Death  within  four-and- 
twenty  hours  ! 

Garat,  Minister  of  Justice,  has  to  go  to  the  Temple  with 
this  stern  message  :  he  ejaculates  repeatedly,  “  Quelle  commis¬ 
sion  affreuse,  What  a  frightful  function  !  ”  2  Louis  begs  for 
a  Confessor  ;  for  yet  three  days  of  life,  to  prepare  himself  to 
die.  The  Confessor  is  granted ;  the  three  days  and  all  respite 
are  refused. 

1  Moniteur  (in  Hist.  Pari,  xxiii.  210).  See  Boissy  d’Anglas,  Vie  de  Male- 
sherbes,  ii.  139. 

*  Biographie  des  Alinistres,  p.  157. 


256  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1793. 

There  is  no  deliverance,  then  ?  Thick  stone  w,alls  answer, 
None.  Has  King  Louis  no  friends  ?  Men  of  action,  of  cour¬ 
age  grown  desperate,  in  this  his  extreme  need  ?  King  Louis’s 
friends  are  feeble  and  far.  Not  even  a  voice  in  the  coffee¬ 
houses  rises  for  him.  At  Meot  the  Restaurateur’s  no  Captain 
Dampmartin  now  dines  ;  or  sees  death-doing  whiskerandoes 
on  furlough  exhibit  daggers  of  improved  structure.  Meot’s 
gallant  Royalists  on  furlough  are  far  across  the  marches  ;  they 
are  wandering  distracted  over  the  world :  or  their  bones  lie 
whitening  Argonne  Wood.  Only  some  weak  Priests  “  leave 
Pamphlets  on  all  the  bourne-stones,”  this  night,  calling  for  a 
rescue  :  calling  for  the  pious  women  to  rise  ;  or  are  taken  dis¬ 
tributing  Pamphlets,  and  sent  to  prison.1 

Nay  there  is  one  death-doer,  of  the  ancient  Meot  sort,  who, 
with  effort,  has  done  even  less  and  worse :  slain  a  Deputy,  and 
set  all  the  Patriotism  of  Paris  on  edge !  It  was  five  on  Satur¬ 
day  evening  when  Lepelletier  Saint-Pargeau,  having  given  his 
vote,  No  Delay ,  ran  over  to  Fevrier’s  in  the  Palais  Royal  to 
snatch  a  morsel  of  dinner.  He  had  dined,  and  was  paying.  A 
thick-set  man  “  with  black  hair  and  blue  beard,”  in  a  loose 
kind  of  frock,  stept  up  to  him ;  it  was,  as  Fevrier  and  the  by¬ 
standers  bethought  them,  one  Paris  of  the  old  King’s-Guard. 
“  Are  you  Lepelletier  ?  ”  asks  he.  —  “  Yes.”  —  “  You  voted  in 
the  King’s  Business  —  ?  ”  —  u  I  voted  Death.”  —  “  Scelerat, 
take  that !  ”  cries  Paris,  flashing  out  a  sabre  from  under  his 
frock,  and  plunging  it  deep  in  Lepelletier’s  side.  Fevrier 
clutches  him :  but  he  breaks  off ;  is  gone. 

The  voter  Lepelletier  lies  dead ;  he  has  expired  in  great 
pain,  at  one  in  the  morning ;  —  two  hours  before  that  Vote  of 
No  Delay  was  fully  summed  up.  Guardsman  Paris  is  flying 
over  France ;  cannot  be  taken ;  will  be  found  some  months 
after,  self-shot  in  a  remote  inn.2  —  Robespierre  sees  reason  to 
think  that  Prince  d’ Artois  himself  is  privately  in  Town ;  that 

1  See  Prudhomme’s  Newspaper,  Revolutions  de  Paris  (in  Ilist.  Pari,  xxiii. 
318). 

2  Hist.  Pari  xxiii.  275,  318.  Felix  Lepelletier,  Vie  de  Michel  Lepelletier 
son  Frere,  p.  61,  &c.  Felix,  with  due  love  of  the  miraculous,  will  have  it  that 
the  Suicide  in  the  inn  was  not  Paris,  but  some  double-ganger  of  his. 


PLACE  DE  LA  REVOLUTION. 


257 


Chap.  VIII. 
January  21. 


the  Convention  will  be  butchered  in  the  lump.  Patriotism 
sounds  mere  wail  and  vengeance :  Santerre  doubles  and  trebles 
all  his  patrols.  Pity  is  lost  in  rage  and  fear ;  the  Convention 
has  refused  the  three  days  of  life  and  all  respite. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PLACE  DE  LA  REVOLUTION. 

\ 

To  this  conclusion,  then,  hast  thou  come,  0  hapless  Louis  ! 
The  Son  of  Sixty  Kings  is  to  die  on  the  Scaffold  by  form 
of  Law.  Under  Sixty  Kings  this  same  form  of  Law,  form 
of  Society,  has  been  fashioning  itself  together  these  thousand 
years ;  and  has  become,  one  way  and  other,  a  most  strange 
Machine.  Surely,  if  needful,  it  is  also  frightful,  this  Machine  ; 
dead,  blind ;  not  what  it  should  be ;  which,  with  swift  stroke, 
or  by  cold  slow  torture,  has  wasted  the  lives  and  souls  of 
innumerable  men.  And  behold  now  a  King  himself,  or  say 
rather  Kinghood  in  his  person,  is  to  expire  here  in  cruel  tor¬ 
tures  ;  —  like  a  Phalaris  shut  in  the  belly  of  his  own  red- 
heated  Brazen  Bull !  It  is  ever  so  ;  and  thou  shouldst  know 
it,  0  haughty  tyrannous  man  :  injustice  breeds  injustice  ; 
curses  and  falsehoods  do  verily  return  “  always  home,”  wide 
as  they  may  wander.  Innocent  Louis  bears  the  sins  of  many 
generations  :  he  too  experiences  that  man’s  tribunal  is  not  in 
this  Earth ;  that  if  he  had  no  Higher  one,  it  were  not  well 
with  him. 

A  King  dying  by  such  violence  appeals  impressively  to  the 
imagination  ;  as  the  like  must  do,  and  ought  to  do.  And  yet 
at  bottom  it  is  not  the  King  dying,  but  the  man  !  Kingship 
is  a  coat :  the  grand  loss  is  of  the  skin.  The  man  from  whom 
you  take  his  Life,  to  him  can  the  whole  combined  world  do 
more  ?  Lally  went  on  his  hurdle  ;  his  mouth  filled  with  a  gag. 
Miserablest  mortals,  doomed  for  picking  pockets,  have  a  whole 
five-act  Tragedy  in  them,  in  that  dumb  pain,  as  they  go  to 
the  gallows,  unregarded ;  they  consume  the  cup  of  trembling 

17 


VOL.  IV- 


258  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1793. 

down  to  the  lees.  For  Kings  and  for  Beggars,  for  the  justly 
doomed  and  the  unjustly,  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  die.  Pity 
them  all :  thy  utmost  pity,  with  all  aids  and  appliances  and 
throne-and-scaffold  contrasts,  how  far  short  is  it  of  the  thing 
pitied  ! 

A  Confessor  has  come ;  Abbe  Edgeworth,  of  Irish  extrac¬ 
tion,  whom  the  King  knew  by  good  report,  has  come  promptly 
on  this  solemn  mission.  Leave  the  Earth  alone,  then,  thou 
hapless  King ;  it  with  its  malice  will  go  its  way,  thou  also 
canst  go  thine.  A  hard  scene  yet  remains  :  the  parting  with 
our  loved  ones.  Kind  hearts,  environed  in  the  same  grim 
peril  with  us  ;  to  be  left  here  !  Let  the  Reader  look  with  the 
eyes  of  Valet  Clery  through  these  glass  doors,  where  also  the 
Municipality  watches  ;  and  see  the  crudest  of  scenes  :  — 

“  At  half-past  eight,  the  door  of  the  anteroom  opened :  the 
Queen  appeared  first,  leading  her  Son  by  the  hand  ;  then 
Madame  Royale  and  Madame  Elizabeth :  they  all  flung  them¬ 
selves  into  the  arms  of  the  King.  Silence  reigned  for  some 
minutes  ;  interrupted  only  by  sobs.  The  Queen  made  a  move¬ 
ment  to  lead  his  Majesty  towards  the  inner  room,  where 
M.  Edgeworth  was  waiting  unknown  to  them  :  ‘No,’  said  the 
King,  *  let  us  go  into  the  dining-room ;  it  is  there  only  that 
I  can  see  you.’  They  entered  there ;  I  shut  the  door  of  it, 
which  was  of  glass.  The  King  sat  down,  the  Queen  on  his 
left  hand,  Madame  Elizabeth  on  his  right,  Madame  Royale 
almost  in  front ;  the  young  Prince  remained  standing  between 
his  Father’s  legs.  They  all  leaned  towards  him,  and  often 
held  him  embraced.  This  scene  of  woe  lasted  an  hour  and 
three  quarters  ;  during  which  we  could  hear  nothing  ;  we 
could  see  only  that  always  when  the  King  spoke,  the  sobbings 
of  the  Princesses  redoubled,  continued  for  some  minutes ;  and 
that  then  the  King  began  again  to  speak.”1 — And  so  our  meet¬ 
ings  and  our  partings  do  now  end !  The  sorrows  we  gave  each 
other;  the  poor  joys  we  faithfully  shared,  and  all  our  lovings 
and  our  sufferings,  and  confused  toilings  under  the  earthly 
Sun,  are  over.  Thou  good  soul,  I  shall  never,  never  through 
1  Clery’s  Narrative  (London,  1798),  cited  in  Weber,  iii.  312. 


259 


Chap.  YIII.  PLACE  DE  LA  REVOLUTION. 

January  21. 

all  ages  of  Time,  see  thee  any  more  !  —  Never  !  0  Reader, 

knowest  thou  that  hard  word  ? 

For  nearly  two  hours  this  agony  lasts ;  then  they  tear  them¬ 
selves  asunder.  “  Promise  that  you  will  see  us  on  the  mor¬ 
row.”  He  promises  :  —  Ah  yes,  yes  ;  yet  once  ;  and  go  now, 
ye  loved  ones ;  cry  to  God  for  yourselves  and  me  !  —  It  was  a 
hard  scene,  but  it  is  over.  He  will  not  see  them  on  the  mor¬ 
row.  The  Queen,  in  passing  through  the  anteroom,  glanced  at 
the  Cerberus  Municipals ;  and,  with  woman’s  vehemence,  said 
through  her  tears,  “  Vous  etes  tons  des  scelerats .” 

King  Louis  slept  sound,  till  five  in  the  morning,  when  Clery, 
as  he  had  been  ordered,  awoke  him.  Clery  dressed  his  hair : 
while  this  went  forward,  Louis  took  a  ring  from  his  watch, 
and  kept  trying  it  on  his  finger  :  it  was  his  wedding-ring, 
which  he  is  now  to  return  to  the  Queen  as  a  mute  farewell. 
At  half-past  six,  he  took  the  Sacrament ;  and  continued  in 
devotion,  and  conference  with  Abbe  Edgeworth.  He  will  not 
see  his  Family :  it  were  too  hard  to  bear. 

At  eight,  the  Municipals  enter :  the  King  gives  them  his 
Will,  and  messages  and  effects ;  which  they,  at  first,  brutally 
refuse  to  take  charge  of :  he  gives  them  a  roll  of  gold  pieces, 
a  hundred  and  twenty-five  louis  ;  these  are  to  be  returned  to 
Malesherbes,  who  had  lent  them.  At  nine,  Santerre  says  the 
hour  is  come.  The  King  begs  yet  to  retire  for  three  minutes. 
At  the  end  of  three  minutes,  Santerre  again  says  the  hour  is 
come.  u  Stamping  on  the  ground  with  his  right  foot,  Louis 
answers  :  c  Partons ,  Let  us  go.’  ”  —  How  the  rolling  of  those 
drums  comes  in,  through  the  Temple  bastions  and  bulwarks, 
on  the  heart  of  a  queenly  wife  ;  soon  to  be  a  widow  !  He  is 
gone,  then,  and  has  not  seen  us  ?  A  Queen  weeps  bitterly  ;  a 
King’s  Sister  and  Children.  Over  all  these  Four  does  Death 
also  hover  :  all  shall  perish  miserably  save  one  j  she,  as 
Duchesse  d’Angouleme,  will  live, — not  happily. 

At  the  Temple  Gate  were  some  faint  cries,  perhaps  from 
voices  of  pitiful  women :  11  Grace  !  Grace !  ”  Through  the 
rest  of  the  streets  there  is  silence  as  of  the  grave.  No  man 
not  armed  is  allowed  to  be  there  :  the  armed,  did  any  even 
pity,  dare  not  express  it,  each  man  overawed  by  all  his  neigh- 


260  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

/  1793. 

bors.  All  windows  are  down,  none  seen  looking  through  them. 
All  shops  are  shut.  No  wheel-carriage  rolls,  this  morning,  in 
these  streets  but  one  only.  Eighty  thousand  armed  men  stand 
ranked,  like  armed  statues  of  men  ;  cannons  bristle,  cannon¬ 
eers  with  match  burning,  but  no  word  or  movement :  it  is  as 
a  city  enchanted  into  silence  and  stone  :  one  carriage  with  its 
escort,  slowly  rumbling,  is  the  only  sound.  Louis  reads,  in  his 
Book  of  Devotion,  the  Prayers  of  the  Dying :  clatter  of  this 
death-march  falls  sharp  on  the  ear,  in  the  great  silence ;  but 
the  thought  would  fain  struggle  heavenward,  and  forget  the 
Earth. 

As  the  clocks  strike  ten,  behold  the  Place  de  la  Revolution, 
once  Place  de  Louis  Quinze  :  the  Guillotine,  mounted  near  the 
old  Pedestal  where  once  stood  the  Statue  of  that  Louis !  Far 
round,  all  bristles  with  cannons  and  armed  men:  spectators 
crowding  in  the  rear ;  D’Orleans  Egalite  there  in  cabriolet. 
Swift  messengers,  hoquetons ,  speed  to  the  Town-hall,  every 
three  minutes :  near  by  is  the  Convention  sitting,  —  vengeful 
for  Lepelletier.  Heedless  of  all,  Louis  reads  his  Prayers  of 
the  Dying;  not  till  five  minutes  yet  has  he  finished;  then 
the  Carriage  opens.  What  temper  he  is  in  ?  Ten  different 
witnesses  will  give  ten  different  accounts  of  it.  He  is  in  the 
collision  of  all  tempers  ;  arrived  now  at  the  black  Mahlstrom 
and  descent  of  Death :  in  sorrow,  in  indignation,  in  resigna¬ 
tion  struggling  to  be  resigned.  “Take  care  of  M.  Edgeworth,” 
he  straitly  charges  the  Lieutenant  who  is  sitting  with  them  : 
then  they  two  descend. 

The  drums  are  beating  :  “  Taisez-vous ,  Silence  !  ”  he  cries 
“  in  a  terrible  voice,  d'une  voix  terrible .”  He  mounts  the  scaf¬ 
fold,  not  without  delay ;  he  is  in  puce  coat,  breeches  of-  gray, 
white  stockings.  He  strips  off  the  coat ;  stands  disclosed  in 
a  sleeve-waistcoat  of  white  flannel.  The  Executioners  ap¬ 
proach  to  bind  him  :  he  spurns,  resists ;  Abbe  Edgeworth 
has  to  remind  him  how  the  Saviour,  in  whom  men  trust,  sub¬ 
mitted  to  be  bound.  His  hands  are  tied,  his  head  bare ;  the 
fatal  moment  is  come.  He  advances  to  the  edge  of  the  Scaf¬ 
fold,  “  his  face  very  red,”  and  says  :  “  Frenchmen,  I  die  inno¬ 
cent:  it  is  from  the  Scaffold  and  near  appearing  before  God 


Chap.  VIII.  PLACE  DE  LA  REVOLUTION.  261 

January  21. 

that  I  tell  yon  so.  I  pardon  my  enemies ;  I  desire  that 
France  —  ”  A  General  on  horseback,  Santerre  or  another, 
prances  out,  with  uplifted  hand :  “  Tambours  !  ”  The  drums 
drown  the  voice.  “  Executioners,  do  your  duty  !  ”  The  Exe¬ 
cutioners,  desperate  lest  themselves  be  murdered  (for  Santerre 
and  his  Armed  Ranks  will  strike,  if  they  do  not),  seize  the 
hapless  Louis  :  six  of  them  desperate,  him  singly  desperate, 
struggling  there ;  and  bind  him  to  their  plank.  Abbe  Edge- 
worth,  stooping,  bespeaks  him  :  “  Son  of  Saint  Louis,  ascend 
to  Heaven.”  The  Axe  clanks  down ;  a  King’s  Life  is  shorn 
away.  It  is  Monday,  the  21st  of  January,  1793.  He  was  aged 
thirty-eight  years  four  months  and  twenty-eight  days.1 

Executioner  Samson  shows  the  Head :  fierce  shout  of  Vive 
la  Republique  rises,  and  swells ;  caps  raised  on  bayonets,  hats 
waving :  students  of  the  College  of  Four  Nations  take  it  up, 
on  the  far  Quais ;  fling  it  over  Paris.  D’Orleans  drives  off 
in  his  cabriolet :  the  Town-hall  Councillors  rub  their  hands, 
saying,  “  It  is  done,  It  is  done.”  There  is  dipping  of  handker¬ 
chiefs,  of  pike-points  in  the  blood.  Headsman  Samson,  though 
he  afterwards  denied  it,2  sells  locks  of  the  hair  :  fractions  of 
the  puce  coat  are  long  after  worn  in  rings.3  —  And  so,  in  some 
half-hour  it  is  done  ;  and  the  multitude  has  all  departed.  Pas¬ 
try-cooks,  coffee-sellers,  milkmen  sing  out  their  trivial  quo¬ 
tidian  cries  :  the  world  wags  on,  as  if  this  were  a  common  day. 
In  the  coffee-houses  that  evening,  says  Prudliomme,  Patriot 
shook  hands  with  Patriot  in  a  more  cordial  manner  than 
usual.  Not  till  some  days  after,  according  to  Mercier,  did 
public  men  see  what  a  grave  thing  it  was. 

A  grave  thing  it  indisputably  is ;  and  will  have  conse¬ 
quences.  On  the  morrow  morning,  Roland,  so  long  steeped 
to  the  lips  in  disgust  and  chagrin,  sends  in  his  demission. 
His  accounts  lie  all  ready,  correct  in  black-on-white  to  the 
uttermost  farthing :  these  he  wants  but  to  have  audited,  that 

1  Newspapers,  Municipal  Records,  &c.  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari,  xxiii.  298-349) ; 
Deux  Amis,  ix.  369-373  ;  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris ,  iii.  3-8. 

2  His  Letter  in  the  Newspapers  (Hist.  Pari,  ubi  supra). 

3  Forster’s  Briefwechsel,  i.  473. 


262  REGICIDE.  Book  XV. 

1793. 

he  might  retire  to  remote  obscurity,  to  the  country  and  his 
books.  They  will  never  be  audited,  those  accounts ;  he  will 
never  get  retired  thither. 

It  was  on  Tuesday  that  Roland  demitted.  On  Thursday 
comes  Lepelletier  Saint-Fargeau’s  Funeral,  and  passage  to  the 
Pantheon  of  Great  Men.  Notable  as  the  wild  pageant  of  a 
winter  day.  The  Body  is  borne  aloft,  half-bare  ;  the  winding- 
sheet  disclosing  the  death-wound:  sabre  and  bloody  clothes 
parade  themselves ;  a  “  lugubrious  music  ”  wailing  harsh  ncenice. 
Oak-crowns  shower  down  from  windows ;  President  Vergniaud 
walks  there,  with  Convention,  with  Jacobin  Society,  and  all 
Patriots  of  every  color,  all  mourning  brother-like. 

Notable  also  for  another  thing  this  Burial  of  Lepelletier : 
it  was  the  last  act  these  men  ever  did  with  concert !  All 
Parties  and  figures  of  Opinion,  that  agitate  this  distracted 
France  and  its  Convention,  now  stand,  as  it  were,  face  to  face, 
and  dagger  to  dagger :  the  King’s  Life,  round  which  they  all 
struck  and  battled,  being  hurled  down.  Dumouriez,  conquer¬ 
ing  Holland,  growls  ominous  discontent,  at  the  head  of  Ar¬ 
mies.  Men  say  Dumouriez  will  have  a  King;  that  young 
D’Orleans  Egalite  shall  be  his  King.  Deputy  Fauchet,  in  the 
Journal  des  Amis,  curses  his  day,  more  bitterly  than  Job  did ; 
invokes  the  poniards  of  Regicides,  of  “  Arras  Vipers  ”  or 
Robespierres,  of  Pluto  Dantons,  of  horrid  Butchers  Legendre 
and  Simulacra  d’Herbois,  to  send  him  swiftly  to  another  world 
than  theirs.1  This  is  Te-Deum  Fauchet,  of  the  Bastille  Vic¬ 
tory,  of  the  Cercle  Social.  Sharp  was  the  death-hail  rattling 
round  one’s  Flag-of-truce,  on  that  Bastille  day:  but  it  was 
soft  to  such  wreckage  of  high  Hope  as  this ;  one’s  New  Gold¬ 
en  Era  going  down  in  leaden  dross,  and  sulphurous  black  of 
the  Everlasting  Darkness  ! 

At  home  this  Killing  of  a  King  has  divided  all  friends  ;  and 
abroad  it  has  united  all  enemies.  Fraternity  of  Peoples,  Rev¬ 
olutionary  Propagandism ;  Atheism,  Regicide  ;  total  destruc¬ 
tion  of  social  order  in  this  world  !  All  Kings,  and  lovers  of 
Kings,  and  haters  of  Anarchy,  rank  in  coalition ;  as  in  a  war 

1  Hist.  Pari,  ubi  suprk. 


Chap  VIII.  PLACE  DE  LA  REVOLUTION.  263 

Jan.-March. 

for  life.  England  signifies  to  Citizen  Chauvelin,  tlie  Ambas¬ 
sador  or  rather  Ambassador’s-Cloak,  that  he  must  quit  the 
country  in  eight  days.  Ambassador’s-Cloak  and  Ambassador, 
Chauvelin  and  Talleyrand,  depart  accordingly.1  Talleyrand, 
implicated  in  that  Iron  Press  of  the  Tuileries,  thinks  it  safest 
to  make  for  America. 

England  has  cast  out  the  Embassy :  England  declares 
war,  —  being  shocked  principally,  it  would  seem,  at  the  con¬ 
dition  of  the  River  Scheldt.  Spain  declares  war  ;  being 
shocked  principally  at  some  other  thing ;  which  doubtless 
the  Manifesto  indicates.2  Nay  we  find  it  was  not  England 
that  declared  war  first,  or  Spain  first ;  but  that  France  herself 
declared  war  first  on  both  of  them ; 3  —  a  point  of  immense 
Parliamentary  and  Journalistic  interest  in  those  days,  but 
which  has  become  of  no  interest  whatever  in  these.  They  all 
declare  war.  The  sword  is  drawn,  the  scabbard  thrown  away. 
It  is  even  as  Danton  said,  in  one  of  his  all  too  gigantic  figures : 
“  The  coalized  Kings  threaten  us  ;  we  hurl  at  their  feet,  as 
gage  of  battle,  the  Head  of  a  King.” 

1  Annual  Register  of  1793,  pp.  114-128. 

2  23d  March  ( Annual  Register,  p.  161). 

8  1st  February;  7th  March  ( Moniteur  of  these  dates). 


BOOK  XVI. 


THE  GIRONDINS. 

- •— 

CHAPTER  I.  '  /  p.  iffl  9| 

CAUSE  AND  EFFECT. 

This  huge  Insurrectionary  Movement,  which  we  liken  to  a 
breaking-out  of  Tophet  and  the  Abyss,  has  swept  away  Roy¬ 
alty,  Aristocracy,  and  a  King’s  life.  The  question  is,  What 
will  it  next  do ;  how  will  it  henceforth  shape  itself  ?  Settle 
down  into  a  reign  of  Law  and  Liberty  ;  according  as  the  habits, 
persuasions  and  endeavors  of  the  educated,  moneyed,  respecta¬ 
ble  class  prescribe  ?  That  is  to  say :  the  volcanic  lava-flood, 
bursting  up  in  the  manner  described,  will  explode  and  flow 
according  to  Girondin  Formula  and  pre-established  rule  of 
Philosophy  ?  If  so,  for  our  Girondin  friends  it  will  be  well. 

Meanwhile  were  not  the  prophecy  rather,  that  as  no  ex¬ 
ternal  force,  Royal  or  other,  now  remains  which  could  control 
this  Movement,  the  Movement  will  follow  a  course  of  its  own ; 
probably  a  very  original  one  ?  Farther,  that  whatsoever  man 
or  men  can  best  interpret  the  inward  tendencies  it  has,  and 
give  them  voice  and  activity,  will  obtain  the  lead  of  it  ?  For 
the  rest,  that  as  a  thing  without  order,  a  thing  proceeding 
from  beyond  and  beneath  the  region  of  order,  it  must  work 
and  welter,  not  as  a  Regularity  but  as  a  Chaos  ;  destructive 
and  self-destructive ;  always  till  something  that  has  order 
arise,  strong  enough  to  bind  it  into  subjection  again  ?  Which 
something,  we  may  farther  conjecture,  will  not  be  a  Formula, 
with  philosophical  propositions  and  forensic  eloquence ;  but  a 
Reality,  probably  with  a  sword  in  its  hand ! 


\ 

CHAP.  I.  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  265 

February  25. 

As  for  the  Girondin  Formula,  of  a  respectable  Republic  for 
the  Middle  Classes,  all  manner  of  Aristocracies  being  now  suffi¬ 
ciently  demolished,  there  seems  little  reason  to  expect  that 
the  business  will  stop  there.  Liberty ,  Equality,  Fraternity , 
these  are  the  words  ;  enunciative  and  prophetic.  Republic 
for  the  respectable  washed  Middle  Classes,  how  can  that  be 
the  fulfilment  thereof  ?  Hunger ,  and  nakedness,  and  night¬ 
mare  oppression  lying  heavy  on  twenty-five  million  hearts  ; 
this,  not  the  wounded  vanities  or  contradicted  philosophies 
of  philosophical  Advocates,  rich  Shopkeepers,  rural  Noblesse, 
was  the  prime  mover  in  the  French  Revolution ;  as  the  like 
will  be  in  all  such  Revolutions,  in  all  countries.  Feudal 
Fleur-de-lys  had  become  an  insupportably  bad  marching-ban¬ 
ner,  and  needed  to  be  torn  and  trampled :  but  Money-bag  of 
Mammon  (for  that,  in  these  times,  is  what  the  respectable  Re¬ 
public  for  the  Middle  Classes  will  signify)  is  a  still  worse, 
while  it  lasts.  Properly,  indeed,  it  is  the  worst  and  basest  of 
all  banners  and  symbols  of  dominion  among  men ;  and  indeed 
is  possible  only  in  a  time  of  general  Atheism,  and  Unbelief  in 
anything  save  in  brute  Force  and  Sensualism ;  pride  of  birth, 
pride  of  office,  any  known  kind  of  pride  being  a  degree  better 
than  purse-pride.  Freedom,  Equality,  Brotherhood  :  not  in 
the  Money-bag,  but  far  elsewhere,  will  Sansculottism  seek 
these  things. 

We  say  therefore  that  an  Insurrectionary  France,  loose  of 
control  from  without,  destitute  of  supreme  order  from  within, 
will  form  one  of  the  most  tumultuous  Activities  ever  seen  on 
this  Earth ;  such  as  no  Girondin  Formula  can  regulate.  An 
immeasurable  force,  made  up  of  forces  manifold,  heteroge¬ 
neous,  compatible  and  incompatible.  In  plainer  words,  this 
France  must  needs  split  into  Parties ;  each  of  which  seeking 
to  make  itself  good,  contradiction,  exasperation  will  arise ;  and 
Parties  on  Parties  find  that  they  cannot  work  together,  cannot 
exist  together. 

As  for  the  number  of  Parties,  there  will,  strictly  counting, 
be  as  many  Parties  as  there  are  opinions.  According  to  which 
rule,  in  this  National  Convention  itself,  to  say  nothing  of 
France  generally,  the  number  of  Parties  ought  to  be  Seven 


266 


THE  GIRONDINS. 


Book  XVI. 
1793. 

Hundred  and  Forty-nine  ;  for  every  unit  entertains  his  opinion. 
But  now,  as  every  unit  has  at  once  an  individual  nature  or 
necessity  to  follow  his  own  road,  and  a  gregarious  nature  or  ne¬ 
cessity  to  see  himself  travelling  by  the  side  of  others,  —  what 
can  there  be  but  dissolutions,  precipitations,  endless  turbu¬ 
lence  of  attracting  and  repelling  ;  till  once  the  master-element 
get  evolved,  and  this  wild  alchemy  arrange  itself  again  ? 

To  the  length  of  Seven  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  Parties, 
however,  no  Nation  was  ever  yet  seen  to  go.  Nor  indeed 
much  beyond  the  length  of  Two  Parties  ;  two  at  a  time  ;  —  so 
invincible  is  man’s  tendency  to  unite,  with  all  the  invincible 
divisiveness  he  has !  Two  Parties,  we  say,  are  the  usual  num¬ 
ber  at  one  time :  let  these  two  fight  it  out,  all  minor  shades  of 
party  rallying  under  the  shade  likest  them ;  when  the  one  has 
fought  down  the  other,  then  it,  in  its  turn,  may  divide,  self¬ 
destructive  ;  and  so  the  process  continue,  as  far  as  needful. 
This  is  the  way  of  Revolutions,  which  spring  up  as  the  French 
one  has  done ;  when  the  so-called  Bonds  of  Society  snap 
asunder ;  and  all  Laws  that  are  not  Laws  of  Nature  become 
naught  and  Formulas  merely. 

But,  quitting  these  somewhat  abstract  considerations,  let 
History  note  this  concrete  reality  which  the  streets  of  Paris 
exhibit,  on  Monday  the  25th  of  February,  1793.  Long  before 
daylight  that  morning,  these  streets  are  noisy  and  angry. 
Petitioning  enough  there  has  been;  a  Convention  often  so¬ 
licited.  It  was  but  yesterday  there  came  a  Deputation  of 
Washerwomen  with  Petition;  complaining  that  not  so  much 
as  soap  could  be  had;  to  say  nothing  of  bread,  and  condi¬ 
ments  of  bread.  The  cry  of  women,  round  the  Salle  de 
Manege,  was  heard  plaintive  :  “  Du  pain  et  du  savon ,  Bread 
and  soap.”  1 

And  now  from  six  o’clock,  this  Monday  morning,  one 
perceives  the  Bakers’  Queues  unusually  expanded,  angrily 
agitating  themselves.  Not  the  Baker  alone,  but  two  Section 
Commissioners  to  help  him,  manage  with  difficulty  the  daily 
distribution  of  loaves.  Soft-spoken  assiduous,  in  the  early 
1  Moniteur,  &c.  (Hist.  Pari.  xxiv.  332-348). 


Chap.  I.  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  267 

February  25. 

candle-light,  are  Baker  and  Commissioners  :  and  yet  the  pale 
chill  February  sunrise  discloses  an  unpromising  scene.  Indig¬ 
nant  Female  Patriots,  partly  supplied  with  bread,  rush  now  to 
the^shops,  declaring  that  they  will  have  groceries.  Groceries 
enough :  sugar-barrels  rolled  forth  into  the  street,  Patriot 
Citoyennes  weighing  it  out  at  a  just  rate  of  eleven-pence  a 
pound ;  likewise  coffee-chests,  soap-chests,  nay  cinnamon  and 
cloves-chests,  with  aqua-vitce  and  other  forms  of  alcohol,  —  at 
a  just  rate,  which  some  do  not  pay ;  the  pale-faced  Grocer 
silently  wringing  his  hands  !  What  help  ?  The  distributive 
Citoyennes  are  of  violent  speech  and  gesture,  their  long 
Eumenides-hair  hanging  out  of  curl ;  nay  in  their  girdles  pis¬ 
tols  are  seen  sticking :  some,  it  is  even  said,  have  beards ,  — 
male  Patriots  in  petticoats  and  mob-cap.  Thus,  in  the  street 
of  Lombards,  in  the  street  of  Five-Diamonds,  street  of  Pul¬ 
leys,  in  most  streets  of  Paris  does  it  effervesce,  the  livelong 
day ;  no  Municipality,  no  Mayor  Pache,  though  he  was  War- 
Minister  lately,  sends  military  against  it,  or  aught  against  it 
but  persuasive-eloquenc.e,  till  seven  at  night,  or  later. 

On  Monday  gone  five  weeks,  which  was  the  twenty-first 
of  January,  we  saw  Paris,  beheading  its  King,  stand  silent, 
like  a  petrified  City  of  Enchantment :  and  now  on  this  Mon¬ 
day  it  is  so  noisy,  selling  sugar !  Cities,  especially  Cities  in 
Devolution,  are  subject  to  these  alternations ;  the  secret 
courses  of  civic  business  and  existence  effervescing  and  efflo¬ 
rescing,  in  this  manner,  as  a  concrete  Phenomenon  to  the  eye* 
Of  which  Phenomenon,  when  secret  existence  becoming  public 
effloresces  on  the  street,  the  philosophical  cause  and  effect  is 
not  so  easy  to  find.  What,  for  example,  may  be  the  accurate 
philosophical  meaning,  and  meanings,  of  this  sale  of  sugar  ? 
These  things  that  have  become  visible  in  the  street  of  Pulleys 
and  over  Paris,  whence  are  they,  we  say ;  and  whither  ?  — 

That  Pitt  has  a  hand  in  it,  the  gold  of  Pitt :  so  much, 
to  all  reasonable  Patriot  men,  may  seem  clear.  But  then, 
through  what  agents  of  Pitt  ?  Yarlet,  Apostle  of  Liberty, 
was  discerned  again  of  late,  with  his  pike  and  red  nightcap. 
Deputy  Marat  published  in  his  Journal,  this  very  day,  com¬ 
plaining  of  the  bitter  scarcity,  and  sufferings  of  the  people, 


268  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

till  he  seemed  to  get  wroth :  “  If  your  Rights  of  Man  were 
anything  but  a  piece  of  written  paper,  the  plunder  of  a  few 
shops,  and  a  forestaller  or  two  hung  up  at  the  door-lintels, 
would  put  an  end  to  such  things.”  1  Are  not  these,  say  the 
Girondins,  pregnant  indications  ?  Pitt  has  bribed  the  An¬ 
archists  ;  Marat  is  the  agent  of  Pitt :  hence  this  sale  of  sugar. 
To  the  Mother  Society,  again,  it  is  clear  that  the  scarcity  is 
factitious ;  is  the  work  of  Girondins,  and  such  like ;  a  set  of 
men  sold  partly  to  Pitt ;  sold  wholly  to  their  own  ambitions 
and  hard-hearted  pedantries ;  who  will  not  fix  the  grain- 
prices,  but  prate  pedantically  of  free-trade  ;  wishing  to  starve 
Paris  into  violence,  and  embroil  it  with  the  Departments  : 
hence  this  sale  of  sugar. 

And,  alas,  if  to  these  two  notabilities,  of  a  Phenomenon 
and  such  Theories  of  a  Phenomenon,  we  add  this  third  no¬ 
tability,  That  the  French  Nation  has  believed,  for  several 
years  now,  in  the  possibility,  nay  certainty  and  near  advent, 
of  a  universal  Millennium,  or  reign  of  Freedom,  Equality, 
Fraternity,  wherein  man  should  be  the  brother  of  man,  and 
sorrow  and  sin  flee  away  ?  Not  bread  to  eat,  nor  soap  to 
wash  with ;  and  the  reign  of  Perfect  Felicity  ready  to  arrive, 
due  always  since  the  Bastille  fell !  How  did  our  hearts  burn 
within  us,  at  that  Feast  of  Pikes,  when  brother  flung  himself 
on  brother’s  bosom  ;  and  in  sunny  jubilee,  twenty-five  mil¬ 
lions  burst  forth  into  sound  and  cannon-smoke !  Bright  was 
our  Hope  then,  as  sunlight ;  red-angry  is  our  Hope  grown 
now,  as  consuming  fire.  But,  0  Heavens,  what  enchantment 
is  it,  or  devilish  legerdemain,  of  such  effect,  that  Perfect  Fe¬ 
licity,  always  within  arm’s-length,  could  never  be  laid  hold 
of,  but  only  in  her  stead  Controversy  and  Scarcity  ?  This  set 
of  traitors  after  that  set !  Tremble,  ye  traitors  ;  dread  a  Peo¬ 
ple  which  calls  itself  patient,  long-suffering  ;  but  which  cannot 
always  submit  to  have  its  pocket  picked,  in  this  way,  —  of  a 
Millennium. 

Yes,  Reader,  here  is  the  miracle.  Out  of  that  putrescent 
rubbish  of  Scepticism,  Sensualism,  Sentimentalism,  hollow 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xxiv.  353-356. 


Chap.  I.  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  269 

February. 

Machiavelism,  such  a  Faith  has  verily  risen ;  flaming  in  the 
heart  of  a  People.  A  whole  People,  awakening  as  it  were 
to  consciousness  in  deep  misery,  believes  that  it  is  within 
reach  of  a  Fraternal  Heaven-on-Earth.  With  longing  arms, 
it  struggles  to  embrace  the  Unspeakable  ;  cannot  embrace  it, 
owing  to  certain  causes.  —  Seldom  do  we  find  that  a  whole 
People  can  be  said  to  have  any  Faith  at  all ;  except  in  things 
which  it  can  eat  and  handle.  Whensoever  it  gets  any  Faith, 
its  history  becomes  spirit-stirring,  noteworthy.  But  since  the 
time  when  steel  Europe  shook  itself  simultaneously  at  the 
word  of  Hermit  Peter,  and  rushed  towards  the  Sepulchre 
where  God  had  lain,  there  was  no  universal  impulse  of  Faith 
that  one  could  note.  Since  Protestantism  went  silent,  no 
Luther’s  voice,  no  Zisca’s  drum  any  longer  proclaiming  that 
God’s  Truth  was  not  the  Devil’s  Lie  ;  and  the  Last  of  the  Cam¬ 
eron  ians  (Ren  wick  was  the  name  of  him  ;  honor  to  the  name 
of  the  brave  !)  sank,  shot,  on  the  Castle-hRl  of  Edinburgh,  there 
was  no  partial  impulse  of  Faith  among  Nations.  Till  now, 
behold,  once  more,  this  French  Nation  believes !  Herein,  we 
say,  in  that  astonishing  Faith  of  theirs,  lies  the  miracle.  It  is 
a  Faith  undoubtedly  of  the  more  prodigious  sort,  even  among 
Faiths ;  and  will  embody  itself  in  prodigies.  It  is  the  soul 
of  that  world-prodigy  named  French  Revolution ;  whereat  the 
world  still  gazes  and  shudders. 

But,  for  the  rest,  let  no  man  ask  History  to  explain  by 
cause  and  effect  how  the  business  proceeded  henceforth. 
This  battle  of  Mountain  and  Gironde,  and  what  follows,  is 
the  battle  of  Fanaticisms  and  Miracles  ;  unsuitable  for  cause 
and  effect.  The  sound  of  it,  to  the  mind,  is  as  a  hubbub 
of  voices  in  distraction ;  little  of  articulate  is  to  be  gathered 
by  long  listening  and  studying ;  only  battle-tumult,  shouts 
of  triumph,  shrieks  of  despair.  The  Mountain  has  left  no 
Memoirs  ;  the  Girondins  have  left  Memoirs,  which  are  too 
often  little  other  than  long-drawn  Interjections,  of  Woe  is  me , 
and  Cursed  be  ye.  So  soon  as  History  can  philosophically 
delineate  the  conflagration  of  a  kindled  Fireship,  she  may  try 
this  other  task.  Here  lay  the  bitumen-stratum,  there  the 
brimstone  one ;  so  ran  the  vein  of  gunpowder,  of  nitre,  tere- 


270  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

binth  and  foul  grease :  this,  were  she  inquisitive  enough,  His¬ 
tory  might  partly  know.  But  how  they  acted  and  reacted 
below  decks,  one  fire-stratum  playing  into  the  other,  by  its 
nature  and  the  art  of  man,  now  when  all  hands  ran  raging, 
and  the  flames  lashed  high  over  shrouds  and  topmast:  this 
let  not  History  attempt. 

The  Fireship  is  old  France,  the  old  French  Form  of  Life ; 
her  crew  a  Generation  of  men.  Wild  are  their  cries  and  their 
ragings  there,  like  spirits  tormented  in  that  flame.  But,  on 
the  whole,  are  they  not  gone,  O  Reader  ?  Their  Fireship  and 
they,  frightening  the  world,  have  sailed  away ;  its  flames  and 
its  thunders  quite  away,  into  the  Deep  of  Time.  One  thing 
therefore  History  will  do :  pity  them  all ;  for  it  went  hard 
with  them  all.  Not  even  the  sea-green  Incorruptible  but 
shall  have  some  pity,  some  human  love,  though  it  takes 
an  effort.  And  now,  so  much  once  thoroughly  attained, 
the  rest  will  become  easier.  To  the  eye  of  equal  brotherly 
pity,  innumerable  perversions  dissipate  themselves ;  exag¬ 
gerations  and  execrations  fall  off,  of  their  own  accord.  Stand¬ 
ing  wistfully  on  the  safe  shore,  we  will  look,  and  see,  what  is 
of  interest  to  us,  what  is  adapted  to  us. 


A 

CHAPTER  II. 

CTJLOTTIC  AND  SANSCULOTTIC. 

Gironde  and  Mountain  are  now  in  full  quarrel ;  their  mutual 
rage,  says  Toulongeon,  is  growing  a  “pale”  rage.  Curious, 
lamentable :  all  these  men  have  the  word  Republic  on  their 
lips ;  in  the  heart  of  every  one  of  them  is  a  passionate  wish 
for  something  which  he  calls  Republic :  yet  see  their  death- 
quarrel  !  So,  however,  are  men  made.  Creatures  who  live 
in  confusion;  who,  once  thrown  together,  can  readily  fall 
into  that  confusion  of  confusions  which  quarrel  is,  simply 
because  their  confusions  differ  from  one  another ;  still  more 
because  they  seem  to  differ!  Men’s  words  are  a  poor  ex- 


Chap.  II.  CULOTTIC  AND  SANSCULOTTIC.  271 

February. 

ponent  of  their  thought;  nay  their  thought  itself  is  a  poor 
exponent  of  the  inward  unnamed  Mystery,  wherefrom  both 
thought  and  action  have  their  birth.  No  man  can  explain 
himself,  can  get  himself  explained ;  men  see  not  one  another, 
but  distorted  phantasms  which  they  call  one  another ;  which 
they  hate  and  go  to  battle  with :  for  all  battle  is  well  said  to 
be  misunderstanding. 

But  indeed  that  similitude  of  the  Fireship ;  of  our  poor 
French  brethren,  so  fiery-  themselves,  working  also  in  an 
element  of  fire,  was  not  insignificant.  ‘Consider  it  well,  there 
is  a  shade  of  the  truth  in  it.  For  a  man,  once  committed 
headlong  to  republican  or  any  other  Transcendentalism,  and 
fighting  and  fanaticizing  amid  a  Nation  of  his  like,  becomes 
as  it  were  enveloped  in  an  ambient  atmosphere  of  Transcen¬ 
dentalism  and  Delirium :  his  individual  self  is  lost  in  some¬ 
thing  that  is  not  himself,  but  foreign  though  inseparable  from 
him.  Strange  to  think  of,  the  man’s  cloak  still  seems  to  hold 
the  same  man :  and  yet  the  man  is  not  there,  his  volition  is  not 
there ;  nor  the  source  of  what  he  will  do  and  devise ;  instead 
of  the  man  and  his  volition  there  is  a  piece  of  Fanaticism  and 
Fatalism  incarnated  in  the  shape  of  him.  He,  the  hapless 
incarnated  Fanaticism,  goes  his  road;  no  man  can  help  him, 
he  himself  least  of  all.  It  is  a  wonderful,  tragical  predica¬ 
ment  ;  —  such  as  human  language,  unused  to  deal  with  these 
things,  being  contrived  for  the  uses  of  common  life,  struggles 
to  shadow  out  in  figures.  The  ambient  element  of  material 
fire  is  not  wilder  than  this  of  Fanaticism  ;  nor,  though  visible 
to  the  eye,  is  it  more  real.  Volition  bursts  forth  involuntary- 
voluntary  ;  rapt  along ;  the  movement  of  free  human  minds 
becomes  a  raging  tornado  of  fatalism,  blind  as  the  winds ; 
and  Mountain  and  Gironde,  when  they  recover  themselves, 
are  alike  astounded  to  see  where  it  has  flung  and  dropt  them. 
To  such  height  of  miracle  can  men  work  on  men :  the  Con¬ 
scious  and  the  Unconscious  blended  inscrutably  in  this  our 
inscrutable  Life ;  endless  Necessity  environing  Free-will ! 

The  weapons  of  the  Girondins  are  Political  Philosophy, 
Kespectability  and  Eloquence.  Eloquence,  or  call  it  rhetoric, 


272 


THE  GIRONDINS. 


Book  XVI. 
1793. 

really  of  a  superior  order  ;  Vergniaud,  for  instance,  turns  a 
period  as  sweetly  as  any  man  of  that  generation.  The  weap¬ 
ons  of  the  Mountain  are  those  of  mere  Nature :  Audacity 
and  Impetuosity  which  may  become  Ferocity,  as  of  men  com¬ 
plete  in  their  determination,  in  their  conviction ;  nay  of  men, 
in  some  cases,  who  as  Septemberers  must  either  prevail  or 
perish.  The  ground  to  be  fought  for  is  Popularity:  farther 
you  may  either  seek  Popularity  with  the  friends  of  Freedom 
and  Order,  or  with  the  friends  of  Freedom  Simple ;  to  seek  it 
with  both  has  unhappily  become  impossible.  With  the  former 
sort,  and  generally  with  the  Authorities  of  the  Departments, 
and  such  as  read  Parliamentary  Debates,  and  are  of  Respecta¬ 
bility,  and  of  a  peace-loving  moneyed  nature,  the  Girondins 
carry  it.  With  the  extreme  Patriot  again,  with  the  indigent 
Millions,  especially  with  the  Population  of  Paris  who  do  not 
read  so  much  as  hear  and  see,  the  Girondins  altogether  lose 
it,  and  the  Mountain  carries  it. 

Egoism,  nor  meanness  of  mind,  is  not  wanting  on  either 
side.  Surely  not  on  the  Girondin  side;  where  in  fact  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  too  prominently  unfolded  by  cir¬ 
cumstances,  cuts  almost  a  sorry  figure ;  where  also  a  certain 
finesse,  to  the  length  even  of  shuffling  and  shamming,  now 
and  then  shows  itself.  They  are  men  skilful  in  Advocate- 
fence.  They  have  been  called  the  Jesuits  of  the  Revolution ; 1 
but  that  is  too  hard  a  name.  It  must  be  owned  likewise  that 
this  rude  blustering  Mountain  has  a  sense  in  it  of  what  the 
Revolution  means  ;  which  these  eloquent  Girondins  are  totally 
void  of.  Was  the  Revolution  made,  and  fought  for,  against 
the  world,  these  four  weary  years,  that  a  Formula  might  be 
substantiated;  that  Society  might  become  methodic,  demon¬ 
strable  by  logic;  and  the  old  Noblesse  with  their  pretensions 
vanish?  Or  ought  it  not  withal  to  bring  some  glimmering 
of  light  and  alleviation  to  the  Twenty-five  Millions,  who  sat 
in  darkness,  heavy-laden,  till  they  rose  with  pikes  in  their 
hands  ?  At  least  and  lowest,  one  would  think,  it  should 
bring  them  a  proportion  of  bread  to  live  on  ?  There  is  in 
the  Mountain  here  and  there ;  in  Marat  People’s-Friend ;  in 

1  Dumouriez,  Mtfmoires,  iii.  314. 


Chap.  II.  CULOTTIC  AND  SANSCULOTTIC.  273 

February. 

the  incorruptible  Sea-green  himself,  though  otherwise  so  lean 
and  formulary,  a  heartfelt  knowledge  of  this  latter  fact ;  — 
without  which  knowledge  all  other  knowledge  here  is  naught, 
and  the  choicest  forensic  eloquence  is  as  sounding  brass  and 
a  tinkling  cymbal.  Most  cold,  on  the  other  hand,  most 
patronizing,  unsubstantial  is  the  tone  of  the  Girondins  towards 
“  our  poorer  brethren ;  ”  —  those  brethren  whom  one  often 
hears  of  under  the  collective  name  of  “the  masses,”  as  if 
they  were  not  persons  at  all,  but  mounds  of  combustible 
explosive  material,  for  blowing  down  Bastilles  with !  In  very 
truth,  a  Revolutionist  of  this  kind,  is  he  not  a  Solecism  ? 
Disowned  by  Nature  and  Art;  deserving  only  to  be  erased, 
and  disappear!  Surely,  to  our  poorer  brethren  of  Paris,  all 
this  Girondin  patronage  sounds  deadening  and  killing :  if 
fine-spoken  and  incontrovertible  in  logic,  then  all  the  falser, 
all  the  hatefuler  in  fact. 

Nay  doubtless,  pleading  for  Popularity,  here  among  our 
poorer  brethren  of  Paris,  the  Girondin  has  a  hard  game  to 
play.  If  he  gain  the  ear  of  the  Respectable  at  a  distance,  it 
is  by  insisting  on  September  and  such  like ;  it  is  at  the 
expense  of  this  Paris  where  he  dwells  and  perorates.  Hard 
to  perorate  in  such  an  auditory !  Wherefore  the  question 
arises :  Could  not  we  get  ourselves  out  of  this  Paris  ?  Twice 
or  oftener  such  an  attempt  is  made.  If  not  we  ourselves, 
thinks  Guadet,  then  at  least  our  Supple ans  might  do  it.  Por 
every  Deputy  has  his  Suppleant,  or  Substitute,  who  will  take 
his  place  if  need  be :  might  not  these  assemble,  say  at  Bourges, 
which  is  a  quiet  episcopal  Town,  in  quiet  Berri,  forty  good 
leagues  off:  ?  In  that  case,  what  profit  were  it  for  the  Paris 
Sansculottery  to  insult  us  ;  our  Suppleans  sitting  quiet  in 
Bourges,  to  whom  we  could  run?  Nay,  even  the  Primary 
electoral  Assemblies,  thinks  Guadet,  might  be  reconvoked, 
and  a  New  Convention  got,  with  new  orders  from  the  Sover¬ 
eign  People ;  and  right  glad  were  Lyons,  were  Bordeaux, 
Rouen,  Marseilles,  as  yet  Provincial  Towns,  to  welcome  us 
in  their  turn,  and  become  a  sort  of  Capital  Towns ;  and  teach 
these  Parisians  reason. 

Fond  schemes ;  which  all  misgo !  If  decreed,  in  heat  of  elo- 

VOL.  IV.  18 


274  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

quent  logic,  to-day,  they  are  repealed,  by  clamor  and  passionate- 
wider  considerations,  on  the  morrow.1  Will  you,  0  Girondins, 
parcel  us  into  separate  Republics,  then ;  like  the  Swiss,  like 
your  Americans ;  so  that  there  be  no  Metropolis  or  indivisible 
French  Nation  any  more  ?  Your  Departmental  Guard  seemed 
to  point  that  way!  Federal  Republic?  Federalist?  Men 
and  Knitting-women  repeat  Federaliste ,  with  or  without  much 
Dictionary-meaning  5  but  go  on  repeating  it,  as  is  usual  in  such 
cases,  till  the  meaning  of  it  becomes  almost  magical,  fit  to 
designate  all  mystery  of  Iniquity ;  and  Federaliste  has  grown 
a  word  of  Exorcism  and  Apage-Satanas.  But  furthermore, 
consider  what  “ poisoning  of  public  opinion”  in  the  Depart¬ 
ments,  by  these  Brissot,  Gorsas,  Caritat-Condorcet  News¬ 
papers  !  And  then  also  what  counter-poisoning,  still  feller  in 
quality,  by  a  Fere  Duchesne  of  Hebert,  brutalest  Newspaper 
yet  published  on  Earth;  by  a  Fougiff  of  Guffroy;  by  the 
“  incendiary  leaves  of  Marat  ”  !  More  than  once,  on  complaint 
given  and  effervescence  rising,  it  is  decreed  that  a  man  cannot 
both  be  Legislator  and  Editor ;  that  he  shall  choose  between 
the  one  function  and  the  other.2  But  this  too,  which  indeed 
could  help  little,  is  revoked  or  eluded ;  remains  a  pious  wish 
mainly. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  sad  fruit  of  such  strife,  behold,  0  ye 
National  Representatives,  how,  between  the  friends  of  Law 
and  the  friends  of  Freedom  everywhere,  mere  heats  and  jeal¬ 
ousies  have  arisen ;  fevering  the  whole  Republic !  Depart¬ 
ment,  Provincial  Town  is  set  against  Metropolis,  Rich  against 
Poor,  Culottic  against  Sansculottic,  man  against  man.  From 
the  Southern  Cities  come  Addresses  of  an  almost  inculpatory 
character ;  for  Paris  has  long  suffered  Newspaper  calumny. 
Bordeaux  demands  a  reign  of  Law  and  Respectability,  meaning 
Girondism,  with  emphasis.  With  emphasis  Marseilles  demands 
the  like.  Nay,  from  Marseilles  there  come  two  Addresses  :  one 
Girondin;  one  Jacobin  Sansculottic.  Hot  Rebecqui,  sick  of 
this  Convention-work,  has  given  place  to  his  Substitute,  and 
gone  home ;  where  also,  with  such  jarrings,  there  is  work  to  be 
sick  of. 

1  Moniteur,  1793,  No.  140,  &c. 


2  Hist.  Pari.  xxv.  25,  &c. 


Chap.  II.  CULOTTIC  AND  SANSCULOTTIC.  275 

February. 

Lyons,  a  place  of  Capitalists  and  Aristocrats,  is  in  still 
worse  state ;  almost  in  revolt.  Chalier  the  J acobin  Town- 
Councillor  has  got,  too  literally,  to  daggers-drawn  with  Nievre- 
Chol  the  Moderantin  Mayor :  one  of  your  Moderate,  perhaps 
Aristocrat,  Royalist  or  Federalist  Mayors !  Chalier,  who  pil- 
grimed  to  Paris  “to  behold  Marat  and  the  Mountain,”  has 
verily  kindled  himself  at  their  sacred  urn :  for  on  the  6th  of 
February  last,  History  or  Rumor  has  seen  him  haranguing  his 
Lyons  Jacobins  in  a  quite  transcendental  manner,  with  a 
drawn  dagger  in  his  hand  ;  recommending  (they  say)  sheer 
September  methods,  patience  being  worn  out;  and  that  the 
Jacobin  Brethren  should,  impromptu,  work  the  Guillotine  them¬ 
selves  !  One  sees  him  still,  in  Engravings  :  mounted  on  a  table ; 
foot  advanced,  body  contorted ;  a  bald,  rude,  slope-browed,  in¬ 
furiated  visage  of  the  canine  species,  the  eyes  starting  from 
their  sockets ;  in  his  puissant  right-hand  the  brandished  dag¬ 
ger,  or  horse-pistol,  as  some  give  it;  other  dog-visages  kin¬ 
dling  under  him  :  —  a  man  not  likely  to  end  well !  However, 
the  Guillotine  was  not  got  together  impromptu,  that  day,  “on 
the  Pont  Saint-Clair,”  or  elsewhere;  but  indeed  continued 
lying  rusty  in  its  loft : 1  Nievre-Chol  with  military  went 
about,  rumbling  cannon,  in  the  most  confused  manner ;  and  the 
“  nine  hundred  prisoners  ”  received  no  hurt.  So  distracted  is 
Lyons  grown,  with  its  cannons  rumbling.  Convention  Com¬ 
missioners  must  be  sent  thither  forthwith :  if  even  they  can 
appease  it,  and  keep  the  Guillotine  in  its  loft  ? 

Consider  finally  if,  on  all  these  mad  jarrings  of  the  Southern 
Cities,  and  of  France  generally,  a  traitorous  Crypto-Royalist 
class  is  not  looking  and  watching ;  ready  to  strike  in,  at  the 
right  season  !  Neither  is  there  bread ;  neither  is  there  soap  : 
see  the  Patriot  women  selling  out  sugar,  at  a  just  rate  of 
twenty-two  sous  per  pound !  Citizen  Representatives,  it  were 
verily  well  that  your  quarrels  finished,  and  the  reigp  of 
Perfect  Felicity  began. 

1  Hist.  Pari.  xxiv.  385-393 ;  xxvi.  229,  &c. 


276 


THE  GIRONDINS. 


Book  XVI. 
1793. 


CHAPTER  III. 

GROWING  SHRILL. 

On  the  whole,  one  cannot  say  that  the  Girondins  are  want¬ 
ing  to  themselves,  so  far  as  good-will  might  go.  They  prick 
assiduously  into  the  sore-places  of  the  Mountain;  from  prin¬ 
ciple,  and  also  from  Jesuitism. 

Besides  September,  of  which  there  is  now  little  to  be  made 
except  effervescence,  we  discern  two  sore-places  where  the 
Mountain  often  suffers  :  Marat,  and  Orleans  Egalite.  Squalid 
Marat,  for  his  own  sake  and  for  the  Mountain’s,  is  assaulted 
ever  and  anon ;  held  up  to  France,  as  a  squalid  blood-thirsty 
Portent,  inciting  to  the  pillage  of  shops ;  of  whom  let  the 
Mountain  have  the  credit !  The  Mountain  murmurs,  ill  at 
ease :  this  “  Maximum  of  Patriotism,”  how  shall  they  either 
own  him  or  disown  him  ?  As  for  Marat  personally,  he,  with 
his  fixed-idea,  remains  invulnerable  to  such  things ;  nay  the 
People’s-Friend  is  very  evidently  rising  in  importance,  as  his 
befriended  People  rises.  No  shrieks  now,  when  he  goes  to 
speak;  occasional  applauses  rather,  furtherance  which  breeds 
confidence.  The  day  when  the  Girondins  proposed  to  “  decree 
him  accused  ”  (decreter  $  accusation,  as  they  phrase  it)  for  that 
February  Paragraph,  of  “  hanging  up  a  Forestaller  or  two  at 
the  door-lintels,”  Marat  proposes  to  have  them  “decreed  in¬ 
sane  ;  ”  and,  descending  the  Tribune-steps,  is  heard  to  articu¬ 
late  these  most  unsenatorial  ejaculations:  “ Les  cochons,  les 
imbecilles,  Pigs,  idiots  !  ”  Oftentimes  he  croaks  harsh  sarcasm, 
having  really  a  rough  rasping  tongue,  and  a  very  deep  fund  of 
contempt  for  fine  outsides  ;  and  once  or  twice,  he  even  laughs, 
nay  “  explodes  into  laughter,  rit  aux  eclats ,”  at  the  gentilities 
and  superfine  airs  of  these  Girondin  “men  of  statesmanship,” 
with  their  pedantries,  plausibilities,  pusillanimities :  “  these 
two  years,”  says  he,  “you  have  been  whining  about  attacks, 


GROWING  SHRILL. 


277 


Chap.  III. 
March. 


and  plots,  and  danger  from  Paris ;  and  you  have  not  a  scratch 
to  show  for  yourselves.”  1  —  Danton  gruffly  rebukes  him,  from 
time  to  time :  a  Maximum  of  Patriotism,  whom  one  can  neither 
own  nor  disown ! 

But  the  second  sore-place  of  the  Mountain  is  this  anomalous 
Monseigneur  Equality  Prince  d’Orleans.  Behold  these  men, 
says  the  Gironde ;  with  a  whilom  Bourbon  Prince  among 
them :  they  are  creatures  of  the  D’Orleans  Faction ;  they  will 
have  Philippe  made  King;  one  King  no  sooner  guillotined 
than  another  made  in  his  stead !  Girondins  have  moved, 
Buzot  moved  long  ago,  from  principle  and  also  from  jesuitism, 
that  the  whole  race  of  Bourbons  should  be  marched  forth  from 

r 

the  soil  of  France ;  this  Prince  Egalite  to  bring  up  the  rear. 
Motions  which  might  produce  some  effect  on  the  public ;  — 
which  the  Mountain,  ill  at  ease,  knows  not  what  to  do  with. 

And  poor  Orleans  Egalite  himself,  for  one  begins  to  pity 
even  him,  what  does  he  do  with  them  ?  The  disowned  of  all 
parties,  the  rejected  and  foolishly  bedrifted  hither  and  thither, 
to  what  corner  of  Nature  can  he  now  drift  with  advantage  ? 
Feasible  hope  remains  not  for  him :  unfeasible  hope,  in  pallid 
doubtful  glimmers,  there  may  still  come,  bewildering,  not 
cheering  or  illuminating,  —  from  the  Dumouriez  quarter  ;  and 
how  if  not  the  time-wasted  Orleans  Egalite,  then  perhaps  the 
young  unworn  Chartres  Egalite  might  rise  to  be  a  kind  of 
King  ?  Sheltered,  if  shelter  it  be,  in  the  clefts  of  the  Moun¬ 
tain,  poor  Egalite  will  wait :  one  refuge  in  J acobinism,  one  in 
Dumouriez  and  Counter-Revolution,  are  there  not  two  chances  ? 
However,  the  look  of  him,  Dame  Genlis  says,  is  grown  gloomy ; 
sad  to  see.  Sillery  also,  the  Genlis’s  Husband,  who  hovers 
about  the  Mountain,  not  on  it,  is  in  a  bad  way.  Dame  Genlis 
is  come  to  Rainey,  out  of  England  and  Bury  St.  Edmunds, 
in  these  days ;  being  summoned  by  Egalite,  with  her  young 
charge,  Mademoiselle  Egalite,  —  that  so  Mademoiselle  might 
not  be  counted  among  Emigrants  and  hardly  dealt  with.  But 
it  proves  a  ravelled  business :  Genlis  and  charge  find  that  they 
must  retire  to  the  Netherlands ;  must  wait  on  the  Frontiers, 
for  a  week  or  two ;  till  Monseigneur,  by  Jacobin  help,  get  it 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  20  Mai,  1793. 


278  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

wound  up.  “Next  morning,”  says  Dame  Genlis,  “ Monseigneur, 
gloomier  than  ever,  gave  me  his  arm,  to  lead  me  to  the  carriage. 
I  was  greatly  troubled  j  Mademoiselle  burst  into  tears ;  her 
Father  was  pale  and  trembling.  After  I  had  got  seated,  he 
stood  immovable  at  the  carriage-door,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
me ;  his  mournful  and  painful  look  seemed  to  implore  pity ;  — 
‘  Adieu,  Madame  !  ’  said  he.  The  altered  sound  of  his  voice 
completely  overcame  me ;  unable  to  utter  a  word,  I  held  out 
my  hand ;  he  grasped  it  close  ;  then  turning,  and  advancing 
sharply  towards  the  postilions,  he  gave  them  a  sign,  and  we 
rolled  away.”  1 

Nor  are  Peace-makers  wanting ;  of  whom  likewise  we  men¬ 
tion  two ;  one  fast  on  the  crown  of  the  Mountain,  the  other 
not  yet  alighted  anywhere:  Danton  and  Barrere.  Ingenious 
Barrere,  Old-Constituent  and  Editor,  from  the  slopes  of  the 
Pyrenees,  is  one  of  the  usefulest  men  of  this  Convention,  in 
his  way.  Truth  may  lie  on  both  sides,  on  either  side,  or  on 
neither  side ;  my  friends,  ye  must  give  and  take  :  for  the  rest, 
success  to  the  winning  side  !  This  is  the  motto  of  Barrere. 
Ingenious,  almost  genial ;  quick-sighted,  supple,  graceful ;  a 
man  that  will  prosper.  Scarcely  Belial  in  the  assembled  Pan¬ 
demonium  was  plausibler  to  ear  and  eye.  An  indispensable 
man  :  in  the  great  Art  of  Varnish  he  may  be  said  to  seek  his 
fellow.  Has  there  an  explosion  arisen,  as  many  do  arise,  a 
confusion,  unsightliness,  which  no  tongue  can  speak  of,  nor 
eye  look  on  ;  give  it  to  Barrere ;  Barrere  shall  be  Committee- 
Reporter  of  it ;  you  shall  see  it  transmute  itself  into  a  regular¬ 
ity,  into  the  very  beauty  and  improvement  that  was  needed. 
Without  one  such  man,  we  say,  how  were  this  Convention 
bested?  Call  him  not,  as  exaggerative  Mercier  does,  “the 
greatest  liar  in  France :  ”  nay  it  may  be  argued  there  is  not 
truth  enough  in  him  to  make  a  real  lie  of.  Call  him,  with 
Burke,  Anacreon  of  the  Guillotine,  and  a  man  serviceable  to 
this  Convention. 

The  other  Peace-maker  whom  we  name  is  Danton.  Peace, 
oh  peace  with  one  another !  cries  Danton  often  enough :  Are 
1  Genlis,  Memoires  (London,  1825),  iv.  118. 


Chap.  Ill.  GROWING  SHRILL.  279 

March. 

we  not  alone  against  the  world  :  a  little  band  of  brothers  ? 
Broad  Danton  is  loved  by  all  the  Mountain ;  but  they  think 
him  too  easy-tempered,  deficient  in  suspicion:  he  has  stood 
between  Dumouriez  and  much  censure,  anxious  not  to  exas¬ 
perate  our  only  General :  in  the  shrill  tumult  Danton’s  strong 
voice  reverberates,  for  union  and  pacification.  Meetings  there 
are ;  dinings  with  the  Girondins  :  it  is  so  pressingly  essential 
that  there  be  union.  But  the  Girondins  are  haughty  and  re¬ 
spectable  :  this  Titan  Danton  is  not  a  man  of  Formulas,  and 
there  rests  on  him  a  shadow  of  September.  "  Your  Girondins 
have  no  confidence  in  me  :  77  this  is  the  answer  a  conciliatory 
Median  gets  from  him  ;  to  ad  the  arguments  and  pleadings 
this  conciliatory  Meidan  can  bring,  the  repeated  answer  is, 
“  Ils  n’ont  point  de  confiance  .” 1  —  the  tumult  will  get  ever 
shriller  ;  rage  is  growing  pale. 

In  fact,  what  a  pang  is  it  to  the  heart  of  a  Girondin,  this 
first  withering  probability  that  the  despicable  unphilosophic 
anarchic  Mountain,  after  ad,  may  triumph !  Brutal  Septem- 
berers,  a  fifth-floor  Tallien,  “  a  Robespierre  without  an  idea  in 
his  head/7  as  Condorcet  says,  “  or  a  feeling  in  his  heart : 77  and 
yet  we,  the  flower  of  France,  cannot  stand  against  them ;  be¬ 
hold  the  sceptre  departs  from  us ;  from  us  and  goes  to  them ! 
Eloquence,  Philosophism,  Respectability  avail  not:  “  against 
Stupidity  the  very  gods  fight  to  no  purpose, 

At  it  der  Dummheit  Jcampfen  Gotter  selbst  vergebens!” 

Shrill  are  the  plaints  of  Louvet ;  his  thin  existence  ad  acidified 
into  rage  and  preternatural  insight  of  suspicion.  Wroth  is 
young  Barbaroux ;  wroth  and  scornful.  Silent,  like  a  Queen 
with  the  aspic  on  her  bosom,  sits  the  wife  of  Roland  ;  Roland’s 
Accounts  never  yet  got  audited,  his  name  become  a  byword. 
Such  is  the  fortune  of  war,  especially  of  revolution.  The  great 
gulf  of  Tophet  and  Tenth  of  August  opened  itself  at  the  magic 
of  your  eloquent  voice ;  and  lo  now,  it  will  not  close  at  your 
voice !  It  is  a  dangerous  thing  such  magic.  The  Magician’s 
Famulus  got  hold  of  the  forbidden  Book,  and  summoned  a 
goblin :  Plait-il ,  What  is  your  will  ?  said  the  goblin.  The 
1  Mtmoires  de  Afeillan,  Repr€sentant  du  Peuple  (Paris,  1823),  p.  51. 


280  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

Famulus,  somewhat  struck,  bade  him  fetch  water :  the  swift 
goblin  fetched  it,  pail  in  each  hand ;  but  lo,  would  not  cease 
fetching  it!  Desperate,  the  Famulus  shrieks  at  him,  smites 
at  him,  cuts  him  in  two ;  lo,  two  goblin  water-carriers  ply ;  and 
the  house  will  be  swum  away  in  Deucalion  Deluges. 

- o - 

CHAPTER  IV. 

FATHERLAND  IN  DANGER. 

Or  rather  we  will  say,  this  Senatorial  war  might  have  lasted 
long ;  and  Party  tugging  and  throttling  with  Party  might  have 
suppressed  and  smothered  one  another,  in  the  ordinary  blood¬ 
less  Parliamentary  way;  on  one  condition:  that  France  had 
been  at  least  able  to  exist,  all  the  while.  But  this  Sovereign 
People  has  a  digestive  faculty,  and  cannot  do  without  bread. 
Also  we  are  at  war,  and  must  have  victory ;  at  war  with 
Europe,  with  Fate  and  Famine :  and  behold,  in  the  spring  of 
the  year,  all  victory  deserts  us. 

Dumouriez  had  his  outposts  stretched  as  far  as  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  and  the  beautifulest  plan  for  pouncing  on  Holland, 
by  stratagem,  flat-bottomed  boats  and  rapid  intrepidity ; 
wherein  too  he  had  prospered  so  far;  but  unhappily  could 
prosper  no  farther.  Aix-la-Chapelle  is  lost;  Maestricht  will 
not  surrender  to  mere  smoke  and  noise  :  the  flat-bottomed 
boats  have  to  launch  themselves  again,  and  return  the  way 
they  came.  Steady  now,  ye  rapidly  intrepid  men ;  retreat  with 
firmness,  Parthian-like  !  Alas,  were  it  General  Miranda’s 
fault;  were  it  the  War-minister’s  fault;  or  were  it  Dumou- 
riez’s  own  fault  and  that  of  Fortune :  enough,  there  is  nothing 
for  it  but  retreat,  —  well  if  it  be  not  even  flight ;  for  already 
terror-stricken  cohorts  and  stragglers  pour  off,  not  waiting  for 
order ;  flow  disastrous,  as  many  as  ten  thousand  of  them,  with¬ 
out  halt  till  they  see  France  again.1  Hay  worse :  Dumouriez 
himself  is  perhaps  secretly  turning  traitor  ?  Very  sharp  is 

1  Dumouriez,  iv.  16-73. 


chap.  IV.  FATHERLAND  IN  DANGER.  281 

March. 

the  tone  in  which  he  writes  to  our  Committees.  Commis¬ 
sioners  and  Jacobin  Pillagers  have  done  such  incalculable  mis¬ 
chief  ;  Hassenfratz  sends  neither  cartridges  nor  clothing  ;  shoes 
we  have,  deceptively  “  soled  with  wood  and  pasteboard.” 
Nothing  in  short  is  right-  Danton  and  Lacroix,  when  it  was 
they  that  were  Commissioners,  would  needs  join  Belgium  to 
France ;  —  of  which  Dumouriez  might  have  made  the  prettiest 
little  Duchy  for  his  own  secret  behoof !  With  all  these  things 
the  General  is  wroth ;  and  writes  to  us  in  a  sharp  tone.  Who 
knows  what  this  hot  little  General  is  meditating  ?  Dumouriez 
Duke  of  Belgium  or  Brabant;  and  say,  Egalite  the  Younger 
King  of  France :  there  were  an  end  for  our  Revolution !  — 
Committee  of  Defence  gazes,  and  shakes  its  head :  who  except 
Danton,  defective  in  suspicion,  could  still  struggle  to  be  of 
hope  ? 

And  General  Custine  is  rolling  back  from  the  Rhine  Coun¬ 
try  ;  conquered  Mentz  will  be  reconquered,  the  Prussians 
gathering  round  to  bombard  it  with  shot  and  shell.  Mentz 
may  resist,  Commissioner  Merlin,  the  Thionviller,  “  making 
sallies,  at  the  head  of  the  besieged ; 77  —  resist  to  the  death ; 
but  not  longer  than  that.  How  sad  a  reverse  for  Mentz  ! 
Brave  Forster,  brave  Lux  planted  Liberty-trees,  amid  ga-ira- ing 
music,  in  the  snow-slush  of  last  winter,  there  ;  and  made 
Jacobin  Societies ;  and  got  the  Territory  incorporated  with 
France ;  they  came  hither  to  Paris,  as  Deputies  or  Delegates, 
and  have  their  eighteen  francs  a  day :  but  see,  before  once  the 
Liberty-tree  is  got  rightly  in  leaf,  Mentz  is  changing  into  an 
explosive  crater ;  vomiting  fire,  bevomited  with  fire ! 

Neither  of  these  men  shall  again  see  Mentz ;  they  have 
come  hither  only  to  die.  Forster  has  been  round  the  Globe ; 
he  saw  Cook  perish  under  Owyhee  clubs ;  but  like  this  Paris 
he  has  yet  seen  or  suffered  nothing.  Poverty  escorts  him : 
from  home  there  can  nothing  come,  except  Job’s-news  ;  the 
eighteen  daily  francs,  which  we  here  as  Deputy  or  Delegate 
with  difficulty  “  touch,77  are  in  paper  assignats,  and  sink  fast  in 
value.  Poverty,  disappointment,  inaction,  obloquy  ;  the  brave 
heart  slowly  breaking !  Such  is  Forster’s  lot.  For  the  rest, 
Demoiselle  Theroigne  smiles  on  you  in  the  Soirees  ;  “  a  beau- 


THE  GIRONDINS. 


282  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

tiful  brown-locked  face,”  of  an  exalted  temper ;  and  contrives 
to  keep  her  carriage.  Prussian  Trenck,  the  poor  subterranean 
Baron,  jargons  and  jangles  in  an  unmelodious  manner.  Thomas 
Paine’s  face  is  red-pustuled,  “  but  the  eyes  uncommonly  bright.” 
Convention  Deputies  ask  you  to  dinner :  very  courteous ;  and 
“we  all  play  at plumpsack.” 1  “It  is  the  Explosion  and  New- 
creation  of  a  World,”  says  Eorster ;  “and  the  actors  in  it, 
such  small  mean  objects,  buzzing  round  one  like  a  handful 
of  flies.”  — 

Likewise  there  is  war  with  Spain.  Spain  will  advance 
through  the  gorges  of  the  Pyrenees ;  rustling  with  Bourbon 
banners,  jingling  with  artillery  and  menace.  And  England 
has  donned  the  red  coat ;  and  marches  with  Royal  Highness 
of  York,  —  whom  some  once  spake  of  inviting  to  be  our  King. 
Changed  that  humor  now :  and  ever  more  changing ;  till  no 
hatefuler  thing  walk  this  Earth  than  a  denizen  of  that  tyran¬ 
nous  Island ;  and  Pitt  be  declared  and  decreed,  with  efferves¬ 
cence,  “  Vennemi  du  genre  humain ,  The  enemy  of  mankind ;  ” 
and,  very  singular  to  say,  you  make  order  that  no  Soldier  of 
Liberty  give  quarter  to  an  Englishman.  Which  order,  how¬ 
ever,  the  Soldier  of  Liberty  does  but  partially  obey.  We  will 
take  no  Prisoners  then,  say  the  Soldiers  of  Liberty  ;  they  shall 
all  be  “  Deserters  ”  that  we  take.2  It  is  a  frantic  order  ;  and 
attended  with  inconvenience.  For  surely,  if  you  give  no 
quarter,  the  plain  issue  is  that  you  will  get  none ;  and  so  the 
business  become  as  broad  as  it  was  long.  —  Our  “  recruitment 
of  Three  Hundred  Thousand  men,”  which  was  the  decreed  force 
for  this  year,  is  like  to  have  work  enough  laid  to  its  hand. 

So  many  enemies  come  wending  on;  penetrating  through 
throats  of  mountains,  steering  over  the  salt  sea ;  towards  all 
points  of  our  territory ;  rattling  chains  at  us.  Nay,  worst  of 
all :  there  is  an  enemy  within  our  own  territory  itself.  In  the 
early  days  of  March,  the  Nantes  Post-bags  do  not  arrive ;  there 
arrive  only  instead  of  them  Conjecture,  Apprehension,  bodeful 
wind  of  Rumor.  The  bodefulest  proves  true.  Those  fanatic 
Peoples  of  La  Vendee  will  no  longer  keep  under;  their  fire  of 


1  Forster’s  Briefwechsel,  ii.  514,  460,  631. 

2  See  Dampmartin,  Ev€nemens ,  ii.  213-230. 


283 


chap.  IV.  FATHERLAND  IN  DANGER. 

March  8. 

insurrection,  heretofore,  dissipated  with  difficulty,  blazes  out 
anew,  after  the  King’s  Death,  as  a  wide  conflagration;  not 
riot,  but  civil  war.  Your  Cathelineaus,  your  Stofflets,  Cha- 
rettes,  are  other  men  than  was  thought :  behold  how  their 
Peasants,  in  mere  russet  and  hodden,  with  their  rude  arms, 
rude  array,  with  their  fanatic  Gaelic  frenzy  and  wild-yelling 
battle-cry  of  God  and  the  King ,  dash  at  us  like  a  dark  whirl¬ 
wind  ;  and  blow  the  best-disciplined  Nationals  we  can  get  into 
panic  and  sauve-qui-peut !  Field  after  field  is  theirs  ;  one  sees 
not  where  it  will  end.  Commandant  Santerre  may  be  sent 
there ;  but  with  non-effect ;  he  might  as  well  have  returned 
and  brewed  beer. 

It  has  become  peremptorily  necessary  that  a  National  Con¬ 
vention  cease  arguing,  and  begin  acting.  Yield  one  party 
of  you  to  the  other,  and  do  it  swiftly.  No  theoretic  outlook 
is  here,  but  the  close  certainty  of  ruin ;  the  very  day  that  is 
passing  over  us  must  be  provided  for. 

It  was  Friday  the  Eighth  of  March  when  this  Job’s-post  from 
Dumouriez,  thickly  preceded  and  escorted  by  so  many  other 
Job’s-posts,  reached  the  National  Convention.  Blank  enough 
are  most  faces.  Little  will  it  avail  whether  our  Septemberers 
be  punished  or  go  unpunished ;  if  Pitt  and  Cobourg  are  coming 
in,  with  one  punishment  for  us  all ;  nothing  now  between  Paris 
itself  and  the  Tyrants  but  a  doubtful  Dumouriez,  and  hosts  in 
loose-flowing  loud  retreat !  —  Danton  the  Titan  rises  in  this 
hour,  as  always  in  the  hour  of  need.  Great  is  his  voice,  rever¬ 
berating  from  the  domes  :  —  Citizen-Representatives,  shall  we 
not,  in  such  crisis  of  Fate,  lay  aside  discords  ?  Reputation  :  oh 
what  is  the  reputation  of  this  man  or  of  that  ?  u  Que  mon  nom 
so  it  fletri  ;  que  la  France  soit  libre  :  Let  my  name  be  blighted  ; 
let  France  be  free  !  ”  It  is  necessary  now  again  that  France 
rise,  in  swift  vengeance,  with  her  million  right-hands,  with 
her  heart  as  of  one  man.  Instantaneous  recruitment  in  Paris  ; 
let  every  Section  of  Paris  furnish  its  thousands  ;  every  Section 
of  France  !  Ninety-six  Commissioners  of  us,  two  for  each  Sec¬ 
tion  of  the  Forty-eight,  they  must  go  forthwith,  and  tell  Paris 
what  the  Country  needs  of  her.  Let  Eighty  more  of  us  be  sent, 


284 


THE  GIKONDINS. 


Book  XVI. 
1793. 

post-haste,  over  France ;  to  spread  tlie  fire-cross,  to  call  forth 
the  might  of  men.  Let  the  Eighty  also  be  on  the  road,  before 
this  sitting  rise.  Let  them  go,  and  think  what  their  errand  is. 
Speedy  Camp  of  Fifty  Thousand  between  Paris  and  the  North 
Frontier ;  for  Paris  will  pour  forth  her  volunteers  !  Shoulder 
to  shoulder ;  one  strong  universal  death-defiant  rising  and 
rushing ;  we  shall  hurl  back  these  Sons  of  Night  yet  again ; 
and  France,  in  spite  of  the  world,  be  free  ! 1  —  So  sounds  the 
Titan’s  voice  :  into  all  Section-houses ;  into  all  French  hearts. 
Sections  sit  in  Permanence,  for  recruitment,  enrolment,  that 
very  night.  Convention  Commissioners,  on  swift  wheels,  are 
carrying  the  fire-cross  from  Town  to  Town,  till  all  France 
blaze. 

And  so  there  is  Flag  of  Fatherland  in  Danger  waving  from 
the  Town-hall,  Black  Flag  from  the  top  of  Notre-Dame  Cathe¬ 
dral  ;  there  is  Proclamation,  hot  eloquence ;  Paris  rushing  out 
once  again  to  strike  its  enemies  down.  That,  in  such  circum¬ 
stances,  Paris  was  in  no  mild  humor  can  be  conjectured.  Agi¬ 
tated  streets ;  still  more  agitated  round  the  Salle  de  Manege  ! 
Feuillans-Terrace  crowds  itself  with  angry  Citizens,  angrier 
Citizenesses  ;  Varlet  perambulates  with  portable-chair  :  ejacu¬ 
lations  of  no  measured  kind,  as  to  perfidious  fine-spoken 
Hommes  d’etat,  friends  of  Dumouriez,  secret-friends  of  Pitt 
and  Cobourg,  burst  from  the  hearts  and  lips  of  men.  To  fight 
the  enemy  ?  Yes,  and  “  even  to  freeze  him  with  terror,  glacer 
d’effroi :  ”  but  first  to  have  domestic  Traitors  punished  !  Who 
are  they  that,  carping  and  quarrelling,  in  their  jesuitic  most 
moderate  way,  seek  to  shackle  the  Patriotic  movement  ?  That 
divide  France  against  Paris,  and  poison  public  opinion  in  the 
Departments  ?  That  when  we  ask  for  bread,  and  a  Maximum 
fixed-price,  treat  us  with  lectures  on  Free-trade  in  grains  ? 
Can  the  human  stomach  satisfy  itself  with  lectures  on  Free- 
trade  ;  and  are  we  to  fight  the  Austrians  in  a  moderate  manner, 
or  in  an  immoderate  ?  This  Convention  must  be  purged. 

“  Set  up  a  swift  Tribunal  for  Traitors,  a  Maximum  for 
Grains :  ”  thus  speak  with  energy  the  Patriot  Volunteers,  as 
they  defile  through  the  Convention  Hall,  just  on  the  wing  to 

1  Moniteur  (in  Ilist.  Pari.  xxv.  6). 


/ 


Chap.  IV.  FATHERLAND  IN  DANGER.  285 

March  10. 

the  Frontiers ;  —  perorating  in  that  heroical  Cambyses’  vein  of 
theirs  :  beshouted  by  the  Galleries  and  Mountain ;  bemurmured 
by  the  Right-side  and  Plain.  Nor  are  prodigies  wanting :  lo, 
while  a  Captain  of  the  Section  Poissonniere  perorates  with 
vehemence  about  Dumouriez,  Maximum  and  Crypto-Royalist 
Traitors,  and  his  troop  beat  chorus  with  him,  waving  their 
Banner  overhead,  the  eye  of  a  Deputy  discerns,  in  this  same 
Banner,  that  the  cravates  or  streamers  of  it  have  Royal  fleurs- 
de-lys  !  The  Section-Captain  shrieks  ;  his  troop  shriek,  horror- 
struck,  and  u  trample  the  Banner  under  foot :  ”  seemingly  the 
work  of  some  Crypto-Royalist  Plotter  ?  Most  probable : 1  — 
or  perhaps  at  bottom,  only  the  old  Banner  of  the  Section, 
manufactured  prior  to  the  Tenth  of  August,  when  such  stream¬ 
ers  were  according  to  rule  ! 2 

History,  looking  over  the  Girondin  Memoirs,  anxious  to 
disentangle  the  truth  of  them  from  the  hysterics,  finds  these 
days  of  March,  especially  this  Sunday  the  Tenth  of  March, 
play  a  great  part.  Plots,  plots  ;  a  plot  for  murdering  the  Giron¬ 
din  Deputies  ;  Anarchists  and  Secret-Royalists  plotting,  in  hell¬ 
ish  concert,  for  that  end !  The  far  greater  part  of  which  is 
rics.  What  we  do  find  indisputable  is,  that  Louvet  and 
certain  Girondins  were  apprehensive  they  might  be  murdered 
on  Saturday,  and  did  not  go  to  the  evening  sitting;  but  held 
council  with  one  another,  each  inciting  his  fellow  to  do  some¬ 
thing  resolute,  and  end  these  Anarchists :  to  which,  however, 
Petion,  opening  the  window,  and  finding  the  night  very  wet, 
answered  only,  “  Hs  ne  feront  rien and  “  composedly  resumed 
his  violin,”  says  Louvet ; 3  thereby,  with  soft  Lydian  tweedle- 
deeing,  to  wrap  himself  against  eating  cares.  Also  that  Louvet 
felt  especially  liable  to  being  killed ;  that  several  Girondins 
went  abroad  to  seek  beds  :  liable  to  being  killed ;  but  were 
not.  Farther  that,  in  very  truth,  Journalist  Deputy  Gorsas, 
poisoner  of  the  Departments,  he  and  his  Printer  had  their 
houses  broken  into  (by  a  tumult  of  Patriots,  among  whom  red- 
capped  Varlet,  American  Fournier  loom  forth,  in  the  darkness 

1  Choix  des  Rapports,  xi.  277.  2  Hist.  Pari.  xxv.  72. 

3  Louvet,  Memoires,  p.  72. 


286  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

of  the  rain  and  riot)  ;  had  their  wives  put  in  fear ;  their  presses, 
types  and  circumjacent  equipments  beaten  to  ruin;  no  Mayor 
interfering  in  time  ;  Gorsas  himself  escaping,  pistol  in  hand, 
“  along  the  coping  of  the  back  wall.”  Farther  that  Sunday, 
the  morrow,  was  not  a  work-day ;  and  the  streets  were  more 
agitated  than  ever :  Is  it  a  new  September,  then,  that  these 
Anarchists  intend  ?  Finally,  that  no  September  came  ;  —  and 
also  that  hysterics,  not  unnaturally,  had  reached  almost  their 
acme.1 

Vergniaud  denounces  and  deplores ;  in  sweetly  turned  peri¬ 
ods.  Section  Bonconseil,  Good-counsel  so  named,  not  Maucon- 
seil  or  lU-counsel  as  it  once  was,  —  does  a  far  notabler  thing : 
demands  that  Vergniaud,  Brissot,  Guadet,  and  other  denuncia¬ 
tory,  fine-spoken  Girondins,  to  the  number  of  Twenty-two,  be 
put  under  arrest !  Section  Good-counsel,  so  named  ever  since 
the  Tenth  of  August,  is  sharply  rebuked,  like  a  Section  of 
Ill-counsel : 2  but  its  word  is  spoken,  and  will  not  fall  to  the 
ground. 

In  fact,  one  thing  strikes  us  in  these  poor  Girondins :  their 
fatal  shortness  of  vision ;  nay  fatal  poorness  of  character,  for 
that  is  the  root  of  it.  They  are  as  strangers  to  the  People 
they  would  govern ;  to  the  thing  they  have  come  to  work  in. 
Formulas,  Philosophies,  Respectabilities,  what  has  been  written 
in  Books,  and  admitted  by  the  Cultivated  Classes :  this  inade¬ 
quate  Scheme  of  Nature’s  working  is  all  that  Nature,  let  her  work 
as  she  will,  can  reveal  to  fhese  men.  So  they  perorate  and 
speculate  ;  and  call  on  the  Friends  of  Law,  when  the  question 
is  not  Law  or  No-Law,  but  Life  or  No-Life.  Pedants  of  the 
Revolution,  if  not  Jesuits  of  it !  Their  Formalism  is  great ; 
great  also  is  their  Egoism.  France  rising  to  fight  Austria  has 
been  raised  only  by  plot  of  the  Tenth  of  March,  to  kill  Twenty- 
two  of  them  !  « This  Revolution  Prodigy,  unfolding  itself  into 
terrific  stature  and  articulation,  by  its  own  laws  and  Nature’s, 
not  by  the  laws  of  Formula,  has  become  unintelligible,  incredible 
as  an  impossibility,  the  “  waste  chaos  of  a  Dream.”  A  Republic 
founded  on  what  they  call  the  Virtues ;  on  what  we  call  the 

1  Meillan,  pp.  23,  24;  Louvet,  pp.  71-80. 

2  Moniteur  (Seance  du  12  Mars),  15  Mars. 


Chap.  IV.  FATHERLAND  IN  DANGER.  287 

March  10. 

Decencies  and  Respectabilities  :  this  they  will  have,  and  noth¬ 
ing  but  this.  Whatsoever  other  Republic  Nature  and  Reality 
send,  shall  be  considered  as  not  sent;  as  a  kind  of  Nightmare 
Vision,  and  thing  non-extant ;  disowned  by  the  Laws  of  Nature 
and  of  Formula.  Alas,  dim  for  the  best  eyes  is  this  Reality ; 
and  as  for  these  men,  they  will  not  look  at  it  with  eyes  at  all, 
but  only  through  “  faceted  spectacles  ”  of  Pedantry,  wounded 
Vanity ;  which  yield  the  most  portentous  fallacious  spectrum. 
Carping  and  complaining  forever  of  Plots  and  Anarchy,  they 
will  do  one  thing ;  prove,  to  demonstration,  that  the  Reality 
will  not  translate  into  their  Formula ;  that  they  and  their 
Formula  are  incompatible  with  the  Reality :  and,  in  its  dark 
wrath,  the  Reality  will  extinguish  it  and  them  !  What  a  man 
kens  he  cans.  But  the  beginning  of  a  man’s  doom  is,  that 
vision  be  withdrawn  from  him ;  that  he  see  not  the  reality, 
but  a  false  spectrum  of  the  reality ;  and  following  that,  step 
darkly,  with  more  or  less  velocity,  downwards  to  the  utter 
Dark ;  ,to  Ruin,  which  is  the  great  Sea  of  Darkness,  whither 
all  falsehoods,  winding  or  direct,  continually  flow  ! 

This  Tenth  of  March  we  may  mark  as  an  epoch  in  the 
Girondin  destinies ;  the  rage  so  exasperated  itself,  the  miscon¬ 
ception  so  darkened  itself.  Many  desert  the  sittings ;  many 
come  to  them  armed.1  An  honorable  Deputy,  setting  out  after 
breakfast,  must  now,  besides  taking  his  Notes,  see  whether  his 
Priming  is  in  order. 

Meanwhile  with  Dumouriez  in  Belgium  it  fares  ever  worse. 
Were  it  again  General  Miranda’s  fault,  or  some  other’s  fault, 
there  is  no  doubt  whatever  but  the  “  Battle  of  Nerwinden,”  on 
the  18th  of  March,  is  lost ;  and  our  rapid  retreat  has  become 
a  far  too  rapid  one.  Victorious  Cobourg,  with  his  Austrian 
prickers,  hangs  like  a  dark  cloud  on  the  rear  of  us  :  Dumouriez 
never  off  horseback  night  or  day  ;  engagement  every  three 
hours ;  our  whole  discomfited  Host  rolling  rapidly  inwards, 
full  of  rage,  suspicion  and  sauve-qui-peut !  And  then  Dumou¬ 
riez  himself,  what  his  intents  may  be  ?  Wicked  seemingly 
and  not  charitable  !  His  despatches  to  Committee  openly 

1  Meillan,  Memoir es ,  pp.  85,  24. 


288  THE  GIRONDINS.  BookXVI. 

1793. 

denounce  a  factious  Convention,  for  the*  woes  it  has  brought 
on  France  and  him.  And  his  speeches  —  for  the  General  has 
no  reticence  !  The  execution  of  the  Tyrant  this  Dumouriez 
calls  the  Murder  of  the  King.  Danton  and  Lacroix,  flying 
thither  as  Commissioners  once  more,  return  very  doubtful  j 
even  Danton  now  doubts. 

Three  Jacobin  Missionaries,  Proly,  Dubuisson,  Pereyra,  have 
flown  forth ;  sped  by  a  wakeful  Mother  Society :  they  are 
struck  dumb  to  hear  the  General  speak.  The  Convention, 
according  to  this  General,  consists  of  three  hundred  scoun¬ 
drels  and  four  hundred  imbeciles :  France  cannot  do  without 
a  King.  “  But  we  have  executed  our  King.”  “  And  what  is 
it  to  me,”  hastily  cries  Dumouriez,  a  General  of  no  reticence, 
“  whether  the  King’s  name  be  Ludovicus  or  Jacobus  ?  ”  “  Or 

Philippus  !  ”  rejoins  Proly  ;  —  and  hastens  to  report  progress. 
Over  the  Frontiers  such  hope  is  there. 

- »  — 

CHAPTER  Y. 

SANSCULOTTISM  ACCOUTRED. 

Let  us  look,  however,  at  the  grand  internal  Sansculottism 
and  Revolution  Prodigy,  whether  it  stirs  and  waxes  :  there 
and  not  elsewhere  may  hope  still  be  for  France.  The  Revolu¬ 
tion  Prodigy,  as  Decree  after  Decree  issues  from  the  Moun¬ 
tain,  like  creative  fiats ,  accordant  with  the  nature  of  the 
Thing,  —  is  shaping  itself  rapidly,  in  these  days,  into  terrific 
stature  and  articulation,  limb  after  limb.  Last  March,  1792, 
we  saw  all  France  flowing  in  blind  terror ;  shutting  town- 
barriers,  boiling  pitch  for  Brigands :  happier,  this  March,  that 
it  is  a  seeing  terror ;  that  a  creative  Mountain  exists,  which 
can  say  fiat !  Recruitment  proceeds  with  fierce  celerity : 
nevertheless  our  Volunteers  hesitate  to  set  out,  till  Treason 
be  punished  at  home ;  they  do  not  fly  to  the  frontiers  ;  but 
only  fly  hither  and  thither,  demanding  and  denouncing.  The 
Mountain  must  speak  new  fiat  and  new  fiats. 


Chap.  Y.  SANSCULOTTISM  ACCOUTRED.  289 

March. 

And  does  it  not  speak  such  ?  Take,  as  first  example,  those 
Comites  Bevolutionnaires  for  the  arrestment  of  Persons  Sus¬ 
pect.  Revolutionary  Committee,  of  Twelve  chosen  Patriots, 
sits  in  every  Township  of  France ;  examining  the  Suspect, 
seeking  arms,  making  domiciliary  visits  and  arrestments ;  — 
caring,  generally,  that  the  Republic  suffer  no  detriment. 
Chosen  by  universal  suffrage,  each  in  its  Section,  they  are  a 
kind  of  elixir  of  Jacobinism ;  some  forty-four  thousand  of 
them  awake  and  alive  over  France  !  In  Paris  and  all  Towns, 
every  house-door  must  have  the  names  of  the  inmates  legibly 
printed  on  it,  “  at  a  height  not  exceeding  five  feet  from  the 
ground  ;  ”  every  Citizen  must  produce  his  certificatory  Carte  de 
Civisme,  signed  by  Section-President ;  every  man  be  ready  to 
give  account  of  the  faith  that  is  in  him.  Persons  Suspect  had 
as  well  depart  this  soil  of  Liberty !  And  yet  departure  too  is 
bad :  all  Emigrants  are  declared  Traitors,  their  property  be¬ 
come  National;  they  are  “dead  in  Law,” — save  indeed  that 
for  our  behoof  they  shall  “live  yet  fifty  years  in  Law,”  and 
what  heritages  may  fall  to  them  in  that  time  become  National 
too  !  A  mad  vitality  of  J acobinism,  with  forty-four  thousand 
centres  of  activity,  circulates  through  all  fibres  of  France. 

Very  notable  also  is  the  Tribunal  Extraordinaire : 1  decreed 
by  the  Mountain ;  some  Girondins  dissenting,  for  surely  such 
a  Court  contradicts  every  formula  ;  —  other  Girondins  assent¬ 
ing,  nay  co-operating,  for  do  not  we  all  hate  Traitors,  0  ye 
people  of  Paris  ?  —  Tribunal  of  the  Seventeenth,  in  Autumn 
last,  was  swift ;  but  this  shall  be  swifter.  Five  Judges ;  a 
standing  Jury,  which  is  named  from  Paris  and  the  neighbor¬ 
hood,  that  there  be  not  delay  in  naming  it :  they  are  sub¬ 
ject  to  no  Appeal;  to  hardly  any  Law-forms,  but  must  “get 
themselves  convinced  ”  in  all  readiest  ways ;  and  for  security 
are  bound  “  to  vote  audibly ;  ”  audibly,  in  the  hearing  of  a 
Paris  Public.  This  is  the  Tribunal  Extraordinaire ;  which, 
in  few  months,  getting  into  most  lively  action,  shall  be  enti¬ 
tled  Tribunal  Bevolutionnaire  ;  as  indeed  it  from  the  very  first 
has  entitled  itself :  with  a  Herman  or  a  Dumas  for  J udge- 
President,  with  a  Fouquier-Tinville  for  Attorney-General,  and 

1  Moniteur  T$o.  70  (du  11  Mars),  No.  76,  &c. 

VOL.  IV.  19 


290  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

a  Jury  of  such  as  Citizen  Leroi,  who  has  surnamed  himself 
Dix-Aout,  “  Leroi  August- Tenth,”  it  will  become  the  wonder  of 
the  world.  Herein  has  Sansculottism  fashioned  for  itself  a 
Sword  of  Sharpness :  a  weapon  magical ;  tempered  in  the 
Stygian  hell-waters ;  to  the  edge  of  it  all  armor,  and  defence 
of  strength  or  of  cunning  shall  be  soft ;  it  shall  mow  down 
Lives  and  Brazen-gates  ;  and  the  waving  of  it  shed  terror 
through  the  souls  of  men. 

But  speaking  of  an  amorphous  Sansculottism  taking  form, 
ought  we  not,  above  all  things,  to  specify  how  the  Amor¬ 
phous  gets  itself  a  Head  ?  Without  metaphor,  this  Revolu¬ 
tion  Government  continues  hitherto  in  a  very  anarchic  state. 
Executive  Council  of  Ministers,  Six  in  number,  there  is :  but 
they,  especially  since  Roland’s  retreat,  have  hardly  known 
whether  they  were  Ministers  or  not.  Convention  Committees 
sit  supreme  over  them ;  but  then  each  Committee  as  supreme 
as  the  others :  Comniittee  of  Twenty-one,  of  Defence,  of  Gen¬ 
eral  Surety ;  simultaneous  or  successive,  for  specific  purposes. 
The  Convention  alone  is  all-powerful,  —  especially  if  the  Com¬ 
mune  go  with  it ;  but  is  too  numerous  for  an  administrative 
body.  Wherefore,  in  this  perilous  quick-whirling  condition 
of  the  Republic,  before  the  end  of  March  we  obtain  our 
small  Comite  de  Salut  Public  ; 1  as  it  were,  for  miscellaneous 
accidental  purposes  requiring  despatch  ;  —  as  it  proves,  for  a 
sort  of  universal  supervision,  and  universal  subjection.  They 
are  to  report  weekly,  these  new  Committee-men ;  but  to  de¬ 
liberate  in  secret.  Their  number  is  Nine,  firm  Patriots  all, 
Danton  one  of  them  ;  renewable  every  month ;  —  yet  why  not 
re-elect  them  if  they  turn  out  well  ?  The  flower  of  the  mat¬ 
ter  is,  that  they  are  but  nine  ;  that  they  sit  in  secret.  An 
insignificant-looking  thing  at  first,  this  Committee ;  but  with 
a  principle  of  growth  in  it !  Forwarded  by  fortune,  by  in¬ 
ternal  Jacobin  energy,  it  will  reduce  all  Committees  and  the 
Convention  itself  to  mute  obedience,  the  Six  Ministers  to  Six 
assiduous  Clerks  ;  and  work  its  will  on  the  Earth  and  under 
Heaven,  for  a  season.  A  “Committee  of  Public  Salvation” 
whereat  the  world  still  shrieks  and  shudders. 

1  Moniteur,  No.  83  (du  24  Mars,  1793),  Nos.  86,  98,  99,  100. 


Chap.  V .  SANSCULOTTISM  ACCOUTRED.  291 

March. 

If  we  call  that  Revolutionary  Tribunal  a  Sword,  which 
Sansculottism  has  provided  for  itself,  then  let  us  call  the 
“  Law  of  the  Maximum  ”  a  Provender-scrip,  or  Haversack, 
wherein,  better  or  worse,  some  ration  of  bread  may  be  found. 
It  is  true,  Political  Economy,  Girondin  free-trade,  and  all 
law  of  supply  and  demand,  are  hereby  hurled  topsy-turvy : 
but  what  help  ?  Patriotism  must  live ;  the  “  cupidity  of 
farmers  ”  seems  to  have  no  bowels.  Wherefore  this  Law  of 
the  Maximum,  fixing  the  highest  price  of  grains,  is,  with  in¬ 
finite  effort,  got  passed ; 1  and  shall  gradually  extend  itself 
into  a  Maximum  for  all  manner  of  comestibles  and  commodi¬ 
ties:  with  such  scrambling  and  topsy-turvying  as  may  be 
fancied !  For  now  if,  for  example,  the  farmer  will  not  sell  ? 
The  farmer  shall  be  forced  to  sell.  An  accurate  Account 
of  what  grain  he  has  shall  be  delivered  in  to  the  Constituted 
Authorities :  let  him  see  that  he  say  not  too  much ;  for  in 
that  case,  his  rents,  taxes  and  contributions  will  rise  pro¬ 
portionally  :  let  him  see  that  he  say  not  too  little ;  for,  on 
or  before  a  set  day,  we  shall  suppose  in  April,  less  than  one- 
third  of  this  declared  quantity  must  remain  in  his  barns, 
more  than  two-thirds  of  it  must  have  been  thrashed  and  sold. 
One  can  denounce  him,  and  raise  penalties. 

By  such  inextricable  overturning  of  all  Commercial  rela¬ 
tions  will  Sansculottism  keep  life  in;  since  not  otherwise. 
On  the  whole,  as  Camille  Desmoulins  says  once,  “  while  the 
Sansculottes  fight,  the  Monsieurs  must  pay.’7  So  there  come 
Impots  Progressifs ,  Ascending  Taxes  ;  which  consume,  with 
fast-increasing  voracity,  the  “  superfluous-revenue  ”  of  men : 
beyond  fifty  pounds  a  year,  you  are  not  exempt ;  rising  into 
the  hundreds,  you  bleed  freely;  into  the  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands,  you  bleed  gushing.  Also  there  come  Requisi¬ 
tions  ;  there  comes  "  Eorced-Loan  of  a  Milliard,”  some  Fifty 
Millions  Sterling ;  which  of  course  they  that  have  must  lend. 
Unexampled  enough ;  it  has  grown  to  be  no  country  for  the 
Rich,  this  ;  but  a  country  for  the  Poor  !  And  then  if  one  fly, 
what  steads  it  ?  Dead  in  Law ;  nay  kept  alive  fifty  years 
yet,  for  their  accursed  behoof !  In  this  manner  therefore  it 
1  Moniteur  (du  20  Avril,  &c.  to  20  Mai,  1793). 


292  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

goes  ;  topsy-turvying,  ga-ira- ing ;  —  and  withal  there  is  endless 
sale  of  Emigrant  National-Property,  there  is  Cambon  with 
endless  cornucopia  of  Assignats.  The  Trade  and  Finance  of 
Sansculottism  ;  and  how,  with  Maximum  and  Bakers’  queues, 
with  Cupidity,  Hunger,  Denunciation  and  Paper-money,  it 
led  its  galvanic-life,  and  began  and  ended,  —  remains  the 
most  interesting  of  all  Chapters  in  Political  Economy :  still 
to  be  written. 

All  which  things,  are  they  not  clean  against  Formula  ? 
0  Girondin  Friends,  it  is  not  a  Republic  of  the  Virtues  we 
are  getting ;  but  only  a  Republic  of  the  Strengths,  virtuous 
and  other! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  TRAITOR. 

But  Dumouriez,  with  his  fugitive  Host,  with  his  King 
Ludovicus  or  King  Philippics  ?  There  lies  the  crisis ;  there 
hangs  the  question:  Revolution  Prodigy,  or  Counter-Revo¬ 
lution? —  One  wide  shriek  covers  that  Northeast  region. 
Soldiers,  full  of  rage,  suspicion  and  terror,  flock  hither  and 
thither  ;  Dumouriez,  the  many-counselled,  never  off  horseback, 
knows  now  no  counsel  that  were  not  worse  than  none  :  the 
counsel,  namely,  of  joining  himself  with  Cobourg;  marching 
to  Paris,  extinguishing  Jacobinism,  and,  with  some  new  King 
Ludovicus  or  King  Philippus,  restoring  the  Constitution  of 
1791 ! 1 

Is  Wisdom  quitting  Dumouriez ;  the  herald  of  Fortune 
quitting  him?  Principle,  faith  political  or  other,  beyond  a 
certain  faith  of  mess-rooms,  and  honor  of  an  officer,  had 
him  not  to  quit.  At  any  rate  his  quarters  in  the  Burgh 
of  Saint- Amand ;  his  head-quarters  in  the  Village  of  Saint- 
Amand  des  Boues,  a  short  way  off,  —  have  become  a  Bedlam. 
National  Representatives,  Jacobin  Missionaries  are  riding  and 
running;  of  the  “ three  Towns,”  Lille,  Valenciennes  or  even 

1  Dumouriez,  Me  moires,  iv.  c.  7-10. 


Chap.  VI.  THE  TRAITOR.  293 

April  2. 

Conde,  which  Dumouriez  wanted  to  snatch  for  himself,  not 
one  can  be  snatched ;  your  Captain  is  admitted,  but  the  Town- 
gate  is  closed  on  him,  and  then  alas  the  Prison-gate,  and 
“  his  men  wander  about  the  ramparts.”  Couriers  gallop 
breathless ;  men  wait,  or  seem  waiting,  to  assassinate,  to  be 
assassinated  j  Battalions  nigh  frantic  with  such  suspicion  and 
uncertainty,  with  Vive-la-Republique  and  Sauve-qui-jpeut,  rush 
this  way  and  that  j  —  Ruin  and  Desperation  in  the  shape  of 
Cobourg  lying  entrenched  close  by. 

Dame  Genlis  and  her  fair  Princess  d’Orleans  find  this  Burgh 
of  Saint- Amand  no  fit  place  for  them  ;  Dumouriez’s  protection 
is  grown  worse  than  none.  Tough  Genlis,  one  of  the  toughest 
women ;  a  woman,  as  it  were,  with  nine  lives  in  her ;  whom 
nothing  will  beat :  she  packs  her  bandboxes ;  clear  for  flight 
in  a  private  manner.  Her  beloved  Princess  she  will  —  leave 
here,  with  the  Prince  Chartres  Egalite  her  Brother.  In  the 
cold  gray  of  the  April  morning,  we  find  her  accordingly  estab¬ 
lished  in  her  hired  vehicle,  on  the  street  of  Saint- Amand ; 
postilions  just  cracking  their  whips  to  go,  —  when  behold  the 
young  Princely  Brother,  struggling  hitherward,  hastily  call¬ 
ing  ;  bearing  the  Princess  in  his  arms  !  Hastily  he  has 
clutched  the  poor  young  lady  up,  in  her  very  nightgown, 
nothing  saved  of  her  goods  except  the  watch  from  the  pillow  : 
with  brotherly  despair  he  flings  her  in,  among  the  bandboxes, 
into  Genlis’s  chaise,  into  Genlis’s  arms  :  Leave  her  not,  in 
the  name  of  Mercy  and  Heaven  !  A  shrill  scene,  but  a  brief 
one;  —  the  postilions  crack  and  go.  Ah,  whither  ?  Through 
by-roads  and  broken  hill-passes ;  seeking  their  way  with  lan¬ 
terns  after  nightfall ;  through  perils,  and  Cobourg  Austrians, 
and  suspicious  French  Nationals  :  finally,  into  Switzerland ; 
safe  though  nigh  moneyless.1  The  brave  young  Egalite  has  a 
most  wild  Morrow  to  look  for  ;  but  now  only  himself  to  carry 
through  it. 

For  indeed  over  at  that  Village  named  of  the  Mudbaths , 
Saint-Amand  des  Boues,  matters  are  still  worse.  About  four 
o’clock  on  Tuesday  afternoon,  the  2d  of  April,  1793,  two 

1  Genlis,  iv.  139. 


294  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

Couriers  come  .galloping  as  if  for  life ;  Mon  General !  Four 
National  Representatives,  War-Minister  at  their  head,  are 
posting  hitherward  from  Valenciennes  ;  are  close  at  hand,  — 
with  what  intents  one  may  guess  !  While  the  Couriers  are 
yet  speaking,  War-Minister  and  National  Representatives,  old 
Camus  the  Archivist  for  chief  speaker  of  them,  arrive.  Hardly 
has  Mon  General  had  time  to  order  out  the  Hussar  Regiment 
de  Berchigny ;  that  it  take  rank  and  wait  near  by,  in  case  of 
accident.  And  so,  enter  War-Minister  Beurnonville,  with  an 
embrace  of  friendship,  for  he  is  an  old  friend ;  enter  Archivist 
Camus  and  the  other  three  following  him. 

They  produce  Papers,  invite  the  General  to  the  bar  of  the 
Convention  :  merely  to  give  an  explanation  or  two.  The 
General  finds  it  unsuitable,  not  to  say  impossible,  and  that 
“  the  service  will  suffer.”  Then  comes  reasoning ;  the  voice 
of  the  old  Archivist  getting  loud.  Vain  to  reason  loud  with 
this  Dumouriez;  he  answers  mere  angry  irreverences.  And 
so,  amid  plumed  staff-officers,  very  gloomy-looking ;  in  jeopardy 
and  uncertainty,  these  poor  National  messengers  debate  and 
consult,  retire  and  re-enter,  for  the  space  of  some  two  hours : 
without  effect.  Whereupon  Archivist  Camus,  getting  quite 
loud,  proclaims,  in  the  name  of  the  National  Convention,  for 
he  has  the  power  to  do  it,  That  General  Dumouriez  is  arrested: 
“  Will  you  obey  the  National  mandate,  General!”  —  “Pas 
dans  ce  moment-ci ,  Not  at  this  particular  moment,”  answers 
the  General  also  aloud ;  then  glancing  the  other  way,  utters 
certain  unknown  vocables,  in  a  mandatory  manner  ;  seem¬ 
ingly  a  German  word-of-command.1  Hussars  clutch  the  Four 
National  Representatives,  and  Beurnonville  the  War-Minis¬ 
ter  ;  pack  them  out  of  the  apartment ;  out  of  the  Village,  over 
the  lines  to  Cobourg,  in  two  chaises  that  very  night,  —  as 
hostages,  prisoners  ;  to  lie  long  in  Maestricht  and  Austrian 
strongholds  ! 2  Jacta  est  alea. 

This  night  Dumouriez  prints  his  “  Proclamation  ;  ”  this 
night  and  the  morrow  the  Dumouriez  Army,  in  such  darkness 
visible,  and  rage  of  semi-desperation  as  there  is,  shall  meditate 

1  Dumouriez,  iv.  159,  &c. 

2  Their  Narrative,  written  by  Camus  (in  Toulongeon,  iii.  App.  60-87). 


Chap.  VI.  THE  TRAITOR.  295 

April  2. 

what  the  General  is  doing,  what  they  themselves  will  do  in  it. 
Judge  whether  this  Wednesday  was  of  halcyon  nature,  for  any 
one !  But  on  the  Thursday  morning,  we  discern  Dumouriez 
with  small  escort,  with  Chartres  Egalite  and  a  few  staff- 
officers,  ambling  along  the  Conde  Highway  :  perhaps  they  are 
for  Conde,-  and  trying  to  persuade  the  Garrison  there ;  at  all 
events,  they  are  -for  an  interview  with  Cobourg,  who  waits  in 
the  woods  by  appointment,  in  that  quarter.  Nigh  the  Village 
of  Doumet,  three  National  Battalions,  a  set  of  men  always  full 
of  Jacobinism,  sweep  past  us ;  marching  rather  swiftly,  seem¬ 
ingly  in  mistake,  by  a  way  we  had  not  ordered.  The  General 
dismounts,  steps  into  a  cottage,  a  little  from  the  wayside  ; 
will  give  them  right  order  in  writing.  Hark !  what  strange 
growling  is  heard  ;  what  barkings  are  heard,  loud  yells  of 
“  Traitors ,”  of  u  Arrest :  ”  the  National  Battalions  have 
wheeled  round,  are  emitting  shot !  Mount,  Dumouriez,  and 
spring  for  life  !  Dumouriez  and  Staff  strike  the  spurs  in, 
deep  ;  vault  over  ditches*  into  the  fields,  which  prove  to  be 
morasses  ;  sprawl  and  plunge  for  life ;  bewhistled  with  curses 
and  lead.  Sunk  to  the  middle,  with  or  without  horses,  several 
servants  killed,  they  escape  out  of  shot-range,  to  General  Mack 
the  Austrian’s  quarters.  Nay  they  return  on  the  morrow,  to 
Saint- Amand  and  faithful  foreign  Berchigny  ;  but  what  boots 
it?  The  Artillery  has  all  revolted,  is  jingling  off  to  Valen¬ 
ciennes  ;  all  have  revolted,  are  revolting ;  except  only  foreign 
Berchigny,  to  the  extent  of  some  poor  fifteen  hundred,  none 
will  follow  Dumouriez  against  France  and  Indivisible  Republic : 
Dumouriez’s  occupation’s  gone.1 

Such  an  instinct  of  Frenchhood  and  Sansculottism  dwells  in 
these  men  :  they  will  follow  no  Dumouriez  nor  Lafayette,  nor 
any  mortal  on  such  errand.  Shriek  may  be  of  Sauve-qui-peut , 
but  will  also  be  of  Vive-la-Republique .  New  National  Repre¬ 
sentatives  arrive  ;  new  General  Dampierre,  soon  killed  in 
battle ;  new  General  Custine  :  the  agitated  Hosts  draw  back 
to  some  Camp  of  Farnars ;  make  head  against  Cobourg  as 
they  can. 

And  so  Dumouriez  is  in  the  Austrian  quarters ;  his  drama 

1  Memoires,  iv.  162-180. 


296 


THE  GIRONDINS. 


Book  XVI. 


1793. 

ended,  in  this  rather  sorry  manner.  A  most  shifty,  wiry 
man  ;  one  of  Heaven’s  Swiss  ;  that  wanted  only  work.  Fifty 
years  of  unnoticed  toil  and  valor ;  one  year  of  toil  and  valor, 
not  unnoticed,  but  seen  of  all  countries  and  centuries ;  then 
thirty  other  years  again  unnoticed,  of  Memoir-writing,  English 
Pension,  scheming  and  projecting  to  no  purpose :  Adieu  thou 
Swiss  of  Heaven,  worthy  to  have  been  something  else  ! 

His  Staff  go  different  ways.  Brave  young  Egalite  reaches 
Switzerland  and  the  Genlis  Cottage ;  with  a  strong  crab-stick 
in  his  hand,  a  strong  heart  in  his  body :  his  Princedom  is  now 
reduced  to  that.  Egalite  the  Father  sat  playing  whist,  in  his 
Palais  Egalite,  at  Paris,  on  the  6th  day  of  this  same  month  of 
April,  when  a  catchpole  entered :  Citoyen  Egalite  is  wanted 
at  the  Convention  Committee  ! 1  Examination,  requiring  Ar¬ 
restment  ;  finally  requiring  Imprisonment,  transference  to 
Marseilles  and  the  Castle  of  If  !  Orleansdom  has  sunk  in  the 
black  waters  ;  Palais  Egalite,  which  was  Palais  Royal,  is  like 
to  become  Palais  National. 


- » - - 

CHAPTER  VII. 

IN  FIGHT. 

Our  Republic,  by  paper  Decree,  may  be  “  One  and  Indivisi¬ 
ble  ;  ”  but  what  profits  it  while  these  things  are  ?  Federalists 
in  the  Senate,  renegadoes  in  the  Army,  traitors  everywhere ! 
France,  all  in  desperate  recruitment  since  the  Tenth  of  March, 
does  not  fly  to  the  frontier,  but  only  flies  hither  and  thither. 
This  defection  of  contemptuous  diplomatic  Dumouriez  falls 
heavy  on  the  fine-spoken  high- sniffing  Hommes  d'etat  whom 
he  consorted  with;  forms  a  second  epoch  in  their  destinies. 

Or  perhaps  more  strictly  we  might  say,  the  second  Girondin 
epoch,  though  little  noticed  then,  began  on  the  day  when,  in 
reference  to  this  defection,  the  Girondins  broke  with  Danton. 
It  was  the  first  day  of  April ;  Dumouriez  had  not  yet  plunged 

1  See  Montgaillard,  iv.  144. 


IN  FIGHT. 


297 


Chap.  VII. 
April. 


across  the  morasses  to  Cobourg,  but  was  evidently  meaning  to 
do  it,  and  our  Commissioners  were  off  to  arrest  him;  when 
what  does  the  Girondin  Lasource  see  good  to  do,  but  rise,  and 
jesuitically  question  and  insinuate  at  great  length,  whether 
a  main  accomplice  of  Dumouriez  had  not  probably  been  — 
Danton  !  Gironde  grins  sardonic  assent ;  Mountain  holds  its 
breath.  The  figure  of  Danton,  Levasseur  says,  while  this 
speech  went  on,  was  noteworthy.  He  sat  erect  with  a  kind 
of  internal  convulsion  struggling  to  keep  itself  motionless ; 
his  eye  from  time  to  time  flashing  wilder,  his  lip  curling  in 
Titanic  scorn.1  Lasource,  in  a  fine-spoken  attorney  manner, 
proceeds :  there  is  this  probability  to  his  mind,  and  there  is 
that ;  probabilities  which  press  painfully  on  him,  which  cast 
the  Patriotism  of  Danton  under  a  painful  shade :  —  which 
painful  shade,  he,  Lasource,  will  hope  that  Danton  may  find 
it  not  impossible  to  dispel. 

“  Les  Scelerats  !  ”  cries  Danton,  starting  up,  with  clenched 
right-hand,  Lasource  having  done ;  and  descends  from  the 
Mountain,  like  a  lava-flood :  his  answer  not  unready.  La- 
source’s  probabilities  fly  like  idle  dust ;  but  leave  a  result 
behind  them.  “Ye  were  right,  friends  of  the  Mountain,” 
begins  Danton,  “  and  I  was  wrong :  there  is  no  peace  pos¬ 
sible  with  these  men.  Let  it  be  war,  then !  They  will  not 
save  the  Republic  with  us :  it  shall  be  saved  without  them ; 
saved  in  spite  of  them.”  Really  a  burst  of  rude  Parliamen¬ 
tary  eloquence  this;  which  is  still  worth  reading  in  the  old 
Moniteur.  With  fire-words  the  exasperated  rude  Titan  rives 
and  smites  these  Girondins ;  at  every  hit  the  glad  Mountain 
utters  chorus ;  Marat,  like  a  musical  bis,  repeating  the  last 
phrase.*  Lasource’s  probabilities  are  gone ;  but  Danton’s 
pledge  of  battle  remains  lying. 


A  third  epoch,  or  scene  in  the  Girondin  Drama,  or  rather  it 
is  but  the  completion  of  this  second  epoch,  we  reckon  from  the 
day  when  the  patience  of  virtuous  Petion  finally  boiled  over ; 
and  the  Girondins,  so  to  speak,  took  up  this  battle-pledge  of 

1  Memoires  de  Rene  Levasseur  (Bruxelles,  1830),  i.  164. 
a  Seance  du  1  Avril,  1793  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xxv.  24-35). 


298  THE  GIBONDINS.  Book  XVI.- 

1793. 

Danton’s,  and  decreed  Marat  accused.  It  was  the  eleventh  of 
the  same  month  of  April,  on  some  effervescence  rising,  such  as 
often  rose ;  and  President  had  covered  himself,  mere  Bedlam 
now  ruling;  and  Mountain  and  Gironde  were  rushing  on  one 
another  with  clenched  right-hands,  and  even  with  pistols  in 
them ;  when,  behold,  the  Girondin  Duperret  drew  a  sword !, 
Shriek  of  horror  rose,  instantly  quenching  all  other  effer¬ 
vescence,  at  sight  of  the  clear  murderous  steel;  whereupon 
Duperret  returned  it  to  the  leather  again ;  —  confessing  that 
he  did  indeed  draw  it,  being  instigated  by  a  kind  of  sacred 
madness,  “  sainte  fureur”  and  pistols  held  at  him ;  but  that 
if  he  parricidally  had  chanced  *to  scratch  the  outmost  skin  of 
National  Bepresentation  with  it,  he  too  carried  pistols,  and 
would  have  blown  his  brains  out  on  the  spot.1 

But  now  in  such  posture  of  affairs,  virtuous  Petion  rose, 
next  morning,  to  lament  these  effervescences,  this  endless 
Anarchy  invading  the  Legislative  Sanctuary  itself ;  and  here, 
being  growled  at  and  howled  at  by  the  Mountain,  his  patience, 
long  tried,  did,  as  we  say,  boil  over ;  and  he  spake  vehemently, 
in  high  key,  with  foam  on  his  lips ;  “  whence/’  says  Marat, 

“  I  concluded  he  had  got  la  rage”  the  rabidity,  or  dog-inadness. 
Babidity  smites  others  rabid :  so  there  rises  new  foam-lipped 
demand  to  have  Anarchists  extinguished;  and  specially  to 
have  Marat  put  under  Accusation.  Send  a  representative  to 
the  Bevolutionary  Tribunal  ?  Violate  the  inviolability  of  a 
Bepresentative  ?  Have  a  care,  0  Friends  !  This  poor  Marat 
has  faults  enough ;  but  against  Liberty  or  Equality,  what 
fault  ?  That  he  has  loved  and  fought  for  it,  not  wisely  but 
too  well.  In  dungeons  and  cellars,  in  pinching  poverty,  under 
anathema  of  men;  even  so,  in  such  fight,  has  he  grown  so 
dingy,  bleared ;  even  so  has  his  head  become  a  Stylites  one !  - 
Him  you  will  fling  to  your  Sword  of  Sharpness ;  while  Cobourg 
and  Pitt  advance  on  us,  fire-spitting  ? 

The  Mountain  is  loud,  the  Gironde  is  loud  and  deaf ;  all  lips 
are  foamy.  With  “  Permanent-Session  of  twenty-four  hours,” 
with  vote  by  roll-call,  and  a  dead-lift  effort,  the  Gironde  car¬ 
ries  it :  Marat  is  ordered  to  the  Bevolutionary  Tribunal,  to 

1  Hist.  Pari  xv.  397. 


IN  DEATH-GRIPS. 


299 


Chap.  VIII. 
April-May. 


answer  for  that  February  Paragraph  of  Forestalled  at  the 
door-lintel,  with  other  offences  ;  and,  after  a  little  hesitation, 
he  obeys.1 

Thus  is  Danton’s  battle-pledge  taken  up ;  there  is,  as  he 
said  there  would  be,  “war  without  truce  or  treaty,  ni  treve  ni 
composition”  Wherefore,  close  now  with  one  another,  For¬ 
mula  and  Reality,  in  death-grips,  and  wrestle  it  out ;  both  of 
you  cannot  live,  but  only  one  ! 


CKfAPTER  VIII. 

IlST  DEATH-GRIPS. 

It  proves  what  strength,  were  it  only  of  inertia,  there  is  in 
established  Formulas,  what  weakness  in  nascent  Realities,  and 
illustrates  several  things,  that  this  death-wrestle  should  still 
have  lasted  some  six  weeks  or  more.  National  business,  dis¬ 
cussion  of  the  Constitutional  Act,  for  our  Constitution  should 
decidedly  be  got  ready,  proceeds  along  with  it.  We  even 
change  our  Locality ;  we  shift,  on  the  Tenth  of  May,  from  the 
old  Salle  de  Manege  into  our  new  Hall,  in  the  Palace,  once  a 
King’s  but  now  the  Republic’s,  of  the  Tuileries.  Hope  and 
ruth,  flickering  against  despair  and  rage,  still  struggle  in  the 
minds  of  men. 

It  is  a  most  dark  confused  death-wrestle,  this  of  the  six 
weeks.  Formalist  frenzy  against  Realist  frenzy  ;  Patriotism, 
Egoism,  Pride,  Anger,  Vanity,  Hope  and  Despair,  all  raised 
to  the  frenetic  pitch :  Frenzy  meets  Frenzy,  like  dark  clashing 
whirlwinds ;  neither  understands  the  other ;  the  weaker,  One 
day,  will  understand  that  it  is  verily  swept  down  !  Girondism 
is  strong  as  established  Formula  and  Respectability :  do  not 
as  many  as  Seventy-two  of  the  Departments,  or  say  respectable 
Heads  of  Departments,  declare  for  us  ?  Calvados,  which  loves 
its  Buzot,  will  even  rise  in  revolt,  so  hint  the  Addresses ; 

1  Moniteur  (du  16  Avril,  1793,  et  seqq.). 


300 


THE  GIRONDINS. 


Book  XVI. 
1793. 

Marseilles,  cradle  of  Patriotism,  will  rise ;  Bordeaux  will  rise, 
and  the  Gironde  Department,  as  one  man ;  in  a  word,  who 
will  not  rise,  were  our  Rej?resentation  Nationale  to  be  insulted, 
or  one  hair  of  a  Deputy’s  head  harmed  !  The  Mountain,  again, 
is  strong  as  Reality  and  Audacity.  To  the  Reality  of  the 
Mountain  are  not  all  furthersome  things  possible  ?  A  new 
Tenth  of  August,  if  needful ;  nay  a  new  Second  of  September ! 

But,  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  Twenty-fourth  day  of  April, 
year  1793,  what  tumult  as  of  fierce  jubilee  is  this?  It  is 
Marat  returning  from  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal !  A  week 
or  more  of  death-peril :  and  now  there  is  triumphant  acquittal ; 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  can  find  no  accusation  against  this 
man.  And  so  the  eye  of  History  beholds  Patriotism,  which 
had  gloomed  unutterable  things  all  week,  break  into  loud 
jubilee,  embrace  its  Marat ;  lift  him  into  a  chair  of  triumph, 
bear  him  shoulder-high  through  the  streets.  Shoulder-high  is 
the  injured  People’s-Friend,  crowned  with  an  oak-garland ; 
amid  the  wavy  sea  of  red  nightcaps,  carmagnole  jackets,  gren¬ 
adier  bonnets  and  female  mob-caps ;  far-sounding  like  a  sea ! 
The  injured  People’s-Friend  has  here  reached  his  culminating 
point ;  he  too  strikes  the  stars  with  his  sublime  head. 

But  the  Reader  can  judge  with  wbat  face  President  La- 
source,  he  of  the  “  painful  probabilities,”  who  presides  in  this 
Convention  Hall,  might  welcome  such  jubilee-tide,  when  it  got 
thither,  and  the  Decreed  of  Accusation  floating  on  the  top  of 
it !  A  National  Sapper,  spokesman  on  the  occasion,  says,  the 
People  know  their  Friend,  and  love  his  life  as  their  own ; 
“  whosoever  wants  Marat’s  head  must  get  the  Sapper’s  first.”  1 
Lasource  answered  with  some  vague  painful  mumblement,  — 
which,  says  Levasseur,  one  could  not  help  tittering  at.2  Pa¬ 
triot  Sections,  Volunteers  not  yet  gone  to  the  Frontiers,  come 
demanding  the  “  purgation  of  traitors  from  your  own  bosom ;  ” 
the  expulsion,  or  even  the  trial  and  sentence,  of  a  factious 
Twen'ty-two. 

Nevertheless  the  Gironde  has  got  its  Commission  of  Twelve ; 

1  Seance  du  26  Avril,  An  l*r  (in  Moniteur,  No.  116). 

2  Levasseur,  Memo  ires,  i.  c.  6. 


IN  DEATH-GRIPS. 


301 


Chap.  YIEI. 
April-May. 


a  Commission  specially  appointed  for  investigating  these 
troubles  of  the  Legislative  Sanctuary :  let  Sairsculottism  say 
what  it  will,  Law  shall  triumph.  Old-Constituent  Eabaut 
Saint-Etienne  presides  over  this  Commission :  “  it  is  the  last 
plank  whereon  a  wrecked  Eepublic  may  perhaps  still  save 
herself.”  Eabaut  and  they  therefore  sit,  intent ;  examining 
witnesses  ;  launching  arrestments ;  looking  out  into  a  waste 
dim  sea  of  troubles, — the  womb  of  Formula ,  or  perhaps  her 
grave !  Enter  not  that  sea,  O  Eeader !  There  are  dim  desola¬ 
tion  and  confusion  ;  raging  women  and  raging  men.  Sections 
come  demanding  Twenty-two  ;  for  the  number  first  given  by 
Section  Bonconseil  still  holds,  though  the  names  should  even 
vary.  Other  Sections,  of  the  wealthier  kind,  come  denouncing 
such  demand ;  nay  the  same  Section  will  demand  to-day,  and 
denounce  the  demand  to-morrow,  according  as  the  wealthier 
sit,  or  the  poorer.  Wherefore,  indeed,  the  Girondins  decree 
that  all  Sections  shall  close  “  at  ten  in  the  evening ;  ”  before 
the  working  people  come  :  which  Decree  remains  without 
effect.  And  nightly  the  Mother  of  Patriotism  wails  doleful ; 
doleful,  but  her  eye  kindling  !  And  Fournier  l’Americain  is 
busy,  and  the  two  banker  Preys,  and  Yarlet  Apostle  of  Liberty  ;; 
the  bull-voice  of  Marquis  Saint-Huruge  is  heard.  And  shrill 
women  vociferate  from  all  Galleries,  the  Convention  ones  and 
downwards.  Nay  a  “  Central  Committee”  of  all  the  Forty- 
eight  Sections  looms  forth  huge  and  dubious ;  sitting  dim  in 
the  Archer eche,  sending  Eesolutions,  receiving  them  :  a  Centre 
of  the  Sections  ;  in  dread  deliberation  as  to  a  New  Tenth  of 
August ! 

One  thing  we  will  specify,  to  throw  light  on  many:  the 
aspect  under  which,  seen  through  the  eyes  of  these  Girondin 
Twelve,  or  even  seen  through  one’s  own  eyes,  the  Patriotism 
of  the  softer  sex  presents  itself.  There  are  Female  Patriots, 
whom  the  Girondins  call  Megseras,  and  count  to  the  extent  of 
eight  thousand ;  with  serpent-hair,  all  out  of  curl ;  who  have 
changed  the  distaff  for  the  dagger.  They  are  of  “  the  Society 
called  Brotherly,”  Fraternelle ,  say  Sisterly ,  which  meets  under 
the  roof  of  the  Jacobins.  “  Two  thousand  daggers,”  or  so,  , 
have  been  ordered, — doubtless  for  them.  They  rush  to  Yer- 


302  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

sailles,  to  raise  more  women ;  but  the  Versailles  i^omen  will 
not  rise.1 

Nay  behold,  in  National  Garden  of  Tuileries,  — Demoiselle 
Theroigne  herself  is  become  as  a  brown-locked  Diana  (were  that 
possible)  attacked  by  her  own  dogs,  or  she-dogs  !  The  Demoi¬ 
selle,  keeping  her  carriage,  is  for  Liberty  indeed,  as  she  has 
full  well  shown ;  but  then  for  Liberty  with  Respectability : 
whereupon  these  serpent-haired  Extreme  She  Patriots  do  now 
fasten  on  her,  tatter  her,  shamefully  fustigate  her,  in  their 
shameful  way ;  almost  fling  her  into  the  Garden-ponds,  had 
not  help  intervened.  Help,  alas,  to  small  purpose.  The  poor 
Demoiselle’s  head  and  nervous-system,  none  of  the  soundest,  is 
so  tattered  and  fluttered  that  it  will  never  recover ;  but  flutter 
worse  and  worse,  till  it  crack  j  and  within  year  and  day  we 
hear  of  her  in  mad-house  and  strait-waistcoat,  which  proves 
permanent !  —  Such  brown-locked  Figure  did  flutter,  and  inar¬ 
ticulately  jabber  and  gesticulate,  little  able  to  speak  the  ob¬ 
scure  meaning  it  had,  through  some  segment  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century  of  Time.  She  disappears  here  from  the  Revolution 
and  Public  History  forevermore.2 

Another  thing  we  will  not  again  specify,  yet  again  beseech 
the  Reader  to  imagine  :  the  reign  of  Fraternity  and  Perfection. 
Imagine,  we  say,  0  Reader,  that  the  Millennium  were  strug¬ 
gling  on  the  threshold,  and  yet  not  so  much  as  groceries  could 
be  had,  —  owing  to  traitors.  With  what  impetus  would  a  man 
strike  traitors,  in  that  case  !  Ah,  thou  canst  not  imagine  it ; 
thou  hast  thy  groceries  safe  in  the  shops,  and  little  or  no  hope 
of  a  Millennium  ever  coming  !  —  But  indeed,  as  to  the  tem¬ 
per  there  was  in  men  and  women,  does  not  this  one  fact  say 
enough :  the  height  Suspicion  had  risen  to  ?  Preternatural 
we  often  called  it ;  seemingly  in  the  language  of  exaggeration : 
but  listen  to  the  cold  deposition  of  witnesses.  Not  a  musical 
Patriot  can  blow  himself  a  snatch  of  melodv  from  the  French 

4/ 

1  Buzot,  Mdmoires,  pp.  69,  84;  Meillan,  Mtmoires,  pp.  192,  195,  196.  See 
Commission  des  Donze  (in  Choix  des  Rapports,  xii.  69-131). 

2  Deux  Amis,  vii.  77-80;  Forster,  i.  514;  Moore,  i.  70.  She  did  not  die 
till  1817  ;  in  the  SalpOtriere,  in  the  most  abject  state  of  insanity:  see  Esqui- 
rol,  Des  Maladies  Mentales  (Paris,  1838),  i.  445-450. 


Chap.  VIII.  IN  DEATH-GRIPS.  303 

May  25-30. 

Horn,  sitting  mildly  pensive  on  the  house-top,  but  Mercier  will 
recognize  it  to  be  a  signal  which  one  Plotting  Committee  is 
making  to  another.  Distraction  has  possessed  Harmony  her¬ 
self ;  lurks  in  the  sound  of  Marseillaise  and  Ca-ira.1  Louvet, 
who  can  see  as  deep  into  a  millstone  as  the  most,  discerns  that 
we  shall  be  invited  back  to  our  old  Hall  of  the  Manege,  by 
a  Deputation  ;  and  then  the  Anarchists  will  massacre  Twenty- 
two  of  us,  as  we  walk  over.  It  is  Pitt  and  Cobourg ;  the  gold 
of  Pitt.  —  Poor  Pitt !  They  little  know  what  work  he  has 
with  his  own  Friends  of  the  People  ;  getting  them  bespied, 
beheaded,  their  liabeas-corpuses  suspended,  and  his  own  Social 
Order  and  strong-boxes  kept  tight,  —  to  fancy  him  raising 
mobs  among  his  neighbors  ! 

But  the  strangest  fact  connected  with  French  or  indeed 
with  human  Suspicion,  is  perhaps  this  of  Camille  Desmoulins. 
Camille’s  head,  one  of  the  clearest  in  France,  has  got  itself  so 
saturated  through  every  fibre  with  Preternaturalism  of  Sus¬ 
picion,  that  looking  back  on  that  Twelfth  of  July,  1789,  when 
the  thousands  rose  round  him,  yelling  responsive  at  his  word 
in  the  Palais-Royal  Garden,  and  took  cockades,  he  finds  it  ex¬ 
plicable  only  on  this  hypothesis,  That  they  were  all  hired  to> 
do  it,  and  set  on  by  the  Foreign  and  other  Plotters.  “It  was. 
not  for  nothing,”  says  Camille  with  insight,  “  that  this  multi¬ 
tude  burst  up  round  me  when  I  spoke  !  ”  No,  not  for  nothing.. 
Behind,  around,  before,  it  is  one  huge  Preternatural  Puppet- 
play  of  Plots  ;  Pitt  pulling  the  wires.2  Almost  I  conjecture 
that  I,  Camille  myself,  am  a  Plot,  and  wooden  with  wires.  — 
The  force  of  insight  could  no  farther  go. 

Be  this  as  it  will,  History  remarks  that  the  Commission  of 
Twelve,  now  clear  enough  as  to  the  Plots  ;  and  luckily  having 
“  got  the  threads  of  them  all  by  the  end,”  as  they  say,  —  are 
launching  Mandates  of  Arrest  rapidly  in  these  May  days  ;  and 
carrying  matters  with  a  high  hand ;  resolute  that  the  sea  of 
troubles  shall  be  restrained.  What  chief  Patriot,  Section- 

1  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  vi.  63. 

2  See  Histoire  des  Brissotins,  par  Camille  Desmoulins  (a  Pamphlet  of  Ca¬ 
mille’s,  Paris,  1793). 


304  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

President  even,  is  safe  ?  They  can  arrest  him ;  tear  him 
from  his  warm  bed,  because  he  has  made  irregular  Section 
Arrestments  !  They  arrest  Varlet  Apostle  of  Liberty.  They 
arrest  Procureur-Substitute  Hebert  Pere  Duchesne ;  a  Magis¬ 
trate  of  the  People,  sitting  in  Town-hall ;  who,  with  high 
solemnity  of  martyrdom,  takes  leave  of  his  colleagues ;  prompt 
he,  to  obey  the  Law;  and  solemnly  acquiescent,  disappears 
into  prison. 

The  swifter  fly  the  Sections,  energetically  demanding  him 
back ;  demanding  not  arrestment  of  Popular  Magistrates,  but 
of  a  traitorous  Twenty-two.  Section  comes  flying  after  Sec¬ 
tion  ;  —  defiling  energetic,  with  their  Cambyses-vein  of  ora¬ 
tory  :  nay  the  Commune  itself  comes,  with  Mayor  Pache  at 
its  head ;  and  with  question  not  of  Hebert  and  the  Twenty- 
two  alone,  but  with  this  ominous  old  question  made  new, 
“  Can  you  save  the  Bepublic,  or  must  we  do  it  ?  ”  To  whom 
President  Max  Isnard  makes  fiery  answer  :  If  by  fatal  chance, 
in  any  of  those  tumults  which  since  the  Tenth  of  March  are 
ever  returning,  Paris  were  to  lift  a  sacrilegious  finger  against 
the  National  Bepresentation,  Prance  would  rise  as  one  man, 
in  never-imagined  vengeance,  and  shortly  “  the  traveller  would 
ask,  on  which  side  of  the  Seine  Paris  had  stood  !  ”  1  Whereat 
the  Mountain  bellows  only  louder,  and  every  Gallery ;  Patriot 
Paris  boiling  round. 

And  Girondin  Valaze  has  nightly  conclaves  at  his  house  ; 
sends  billets,  “  Come  punctually,  and  well  armed,  for  there  is 
to  be  business.”  And  Megaera  women  perambulate  the  streets, 
with  flags,  with  lamentable  alleleu .2  And  the  Convention-doors 
are  obstructed  by  roaring  multitudes  :  fine-spoken  Hommes 
d'etat  are  hustled,  maltreated,  as  they  pass  ;  Marat  will  apos¬ 
trophize  you,  in  such  death-peril,  and  say,  Thou  too  art  of 
them.  If  Boland  ask  leave  to  quit  Paris,  there  is  order  of  the 
day.  What  help  ?  Substitute  Hebert,  Apostle  Varlet,  must 
be  given  back ;  to  be  crowned  with  oak-garlands.  The  Com¬ 
mission  of  Twelve,  in  a  Convention  overwhelmed  with  roaring 
Sections,  is  broken ;  then  on  the  morrow,  in  a  Convention  of 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  25  Mai,  1793. 

2  Meillan,  Memoires,  p.  195;  Buzot,  pp.  69,  84. 


EXTINCT. 


305 


Chap.  IX. 

May  31. 

rallied  Girondins,  is  reinstated.  Dim  Chaos,  or  the  sea  of 

« 

troubles,  is  struggling  through  all  its  elements  ;  writhing  and 
chafing  towards  some  Creation. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

EXTINCT. 

Accordingly,  on  Friday  the  Thirty-first  of  May,  1793,  there 
comes  forth  into  the  summer  sunlight  one  of  the  strangest 
scenes.  Mayor  Pache  with  Municipality  arrives  at  the  Tuile- 
ries  Hall  of  Convention ;  sent  for,  Paris  being  in  visible  fer¬ 
ment  ;  and  gives  the  strangest  news. 

How,  in  the  gray  of  this  morning,  while  we  sat  Permanent 
in  Town-hall,  watchful  for  the  commonweal,  there  entered, 
precisely  as  on  a  Tenth  of  August,  some  Ninety-six  extra¬ 
neous  persons  ;  who  declared  themselves  to  be  in  a  state  of 
Insurrection ;  to  be  plenipotentiary  Commissioners  from  the 
Forty-eight  Sections,  sections  or  members  of  the  Sovereign 
People,  all  in  a  state  of  Insurrection ;  and  farther  that  we, 
in  the  name  of  said  Sovereign  in  Insurrection,  were  dismissed 
from  office.  How  we  thereupon  laid  off  our  sashes,  and  with¬ 
drew  into  the  adjacent  Saloon  of  Liberty.  How,  in  a  moment 
or  two,  we  were  called  back ;  and  reinstated  ;  the  Sovereign 
pleasing  to  think  us  still  worthy  of  confidence.  Whereby, 
having  taken  new  oath  of  office,  we  on  a  sudden  find  ourselves 
Insurrectionary  Magistrates,  with  extraneous  Committee  of 
Ninety-six  sitting  by  us  ;  and  a  Citoyen  Henriot,  one  whom 
some  accuse  of  Septemberism,  is  made  Generalissimo  of  the 
National  Guard ;  and,  since  six  o’clock,  the  tocsins  ring,  and 
the  drums  beat:  —  Under  which  peculiar  circumstances,  what 
would  an  august,.  National  Convention  please  to  direct  us  to 
do  ?  1 

Yes,  there  is  the  question !  “  Break  the  Insurrectionary 

1  Ddbats  de  la  Convention  (Paris,  1828),  iv.  187-223.  Moniteur ,  Nos,  152, 
153,  154,  An.  l*r. 

VOL.  TV. 


20 


306  THE  GIRONDINS.  BookXVI. 

1793. 

Authorities/’  answer  some  with  vehemence.  Vergniaud  at 
least  will  have  “the  National  Bepresentatives  all  die  at  their 
post ;  ”  this  is  sworn  to,  with  ready  loud  acclaim.  But  as  to 
breaking  the  Insurrectionary  Authorities,  —  alas,  while  we  yet 
debate,  wBat  sound  is  that  ?  Sound  of  the  Alarm-Cannon  on 
the  Pont  Neuf ;  which  it  is  death  by  the  Law  to  fire  without 
order  from  us  ! 

It  does  boom  off  there,  nevertheless ;  sending  a  stound 
through  all  hearts.  And  the  tocsins  discourse  stern  music ; 
and  Henriot  with  his  Armed  Force  has  enveloped  us  !  And 
Section  succeeds  Section,  the  livelong  day ;  demanding  with 
Cambyses-oratory,  with  the  rattle  of  muskets,  That  traitors, 
Twenty-two  or  more,  be  punished ;  that  the  Commission  of 
Twelve  be  irrecoverably  broken.  The  heart  of  the  Gironde 
dies  within  it ;  distant  are  the  Seventy-two  respectable  Depart¬ 
ments, -this  fiery  Municipality  is  near  !  Barrere  is  for  a  middle 
course ;  granting  something.  The  Commission  of  Twelve  de¬ 
clares  that,  not  waiting  to  be  broken,  it  hereby  breaks  itself, 
and  is  no  more.  Fain  would  Beporter  Babaut  speak  his  and 
its  last  words ;  but  he  is  bellowed  off.  Too  happy  that  the 
Twenty-two  are  still  left  unviolated!  —  Vergniaud,  carrying 
the  laws  of  refinement  to  a  great  length,  moves,  to  the  amaze¬ 
ment  of  some,  that  “  the  Sections  of  Paris  have  deserved  well 
of  their  country.”  Whereupon,  at  a  late  hour  of  the  evening, 
the  deserving  Sections  retire  to  their  respective  places  of 
abode.  Barrere  shall  report  on  it.  With  busy  quill  and  brain 
he  sits,  secluded ;  for  him  no  sleep  to-night.  Friday  the  last 
of  May  has  ended  in  this  manner. 

The  Sections  have  deserved  wTell :  but  ought  they  not  to 
deserve  better  ?  Faction  and  Girondism  is  struck  down  for 
the  moment,  and  consents  to  be  a  nullity ;  but  will  it  not,  at 
another  favorabler  moment  rise,  still  feller ;  and  the  Bepublic 
have  to  be  saved  in  spite  of  it  ?  So  reasons  Patriotism,  still 
Permanent ;  so  reasons  the  Figure  of  Marat,  visible  in  the  dim 
Section-world,  on  the  morrow.  To  the  conviction  of  men  !  — 
And  so  at  eventide  of  Saturday,  when  Barrere  had  just  got 
the  thing  all  varnished  by  the  labor  of  a  night  and  day,  and 
his  Beport  was  setting  off  in  the  evening  mail-bags,  tocsin 


EXTINCT. 


307 


Chap.  IX. 

June  2. 

peals  out  again.  Generate  is  beating ;  armed  men  taking 
station  in  the  Place  Vendome  and  elsewhere,  for  the  night; 
supplied  with  provisions  and  liquor.  There,  under  the  summer 
stars,  will  they  wait,  this  night,  what  is  to  be  seen  and  to  be 
done,  Henriot  and  Town-hall  giving  due  signal. 

The  Convention,  at  sound  of  generate ,  hastens  back  to  its 
Hall ;  but  to  the  number  only  of  a  Hundred ;  and  does  little 
business,  puts  off  business  till  the  morrow.  The  Girondins  do 
not  stir  out  thither,  the  Girondins  are  abroad  seeking  beds.  — 
Poor  Babaut,  on  the  morrow  morning,  returning  to  his  post, 
with  Louvet  and  some  others,  through  streets  all  in  ferment, 
wrings  his  hands,  ejaculating,  u Ilia  suprema  dies!”1  It  has 
become  Sunday  the  2d  day  of  June,  year  1793,  by  the  old 
style ;  by  the  new  style,  year  One  of  Liberty,  Equality,  Fra¬ 
ternity.  We  have  got  to  the  last  scene  of  all,  that  ends  this 
history  of  the  Girondin  Senatorship. 

It  seems  doubtful  whether  any  terrestrial  Convention  had 
ever  met  in  such  circumstances  as  this  National  one  now  does. 
Tocsin  is  pealing ;  Barriers  shut ;  all  Paris  is  on  the  gaze,  or 
under  arms.  As  many  as  a  Hundred  Thousand  under  arms 
they  count :  National  Force ;  and  the  Armed  Volunteers,  who 
should  have  flown  to  the  Frontiers  and  La  Vendee ;  but  would 
not,  treason  being  unpunished ;  and  only  flew  hither  and 
thither  !  So  many,  steady  under  arms,  environ  the  National 
Tuileries  and  Garden.  There  are  horse,  foot,  artillery,  sap¬ 
pers  with  beards :  the  artillery  one  can  see  with  their  camp- 
furnaces  in  this  National  Garden,  heating  bullets  red,  and  their 
match  is  lighted.  Henriot  in  plumes  rides,  amid  a  plumed 
Staff :  all  posts  and  issues  are  safe ;  reserves  lie  out,  as  far 
as  the  Wood  of  Boulogne  ;  the  choicest  Patriots  nearest  the 
scene.  One  other  circumstance  we  will  note :  that  a  careful 
Municipality,  liberal  of  camp-furnaces,  has  not  forgotten  pro¬ 
vision-carts.  No  member  of  the  Sovereign  need  now  go  home 
to  dinner ;  but  can  keep  rank,  —  plentiful  victual  circulating 
unsought.  Does  not  this  People  understand  Insurrection  ? 
Ye,  not  uninventive,  Gualches  !  — 

1  Louvet,  M€moires,  p.  89. 


308  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI. 

1793. 

Therefore  let  a  National  Representation,  “  mandatories  of 
the  Sovereign,”  take  thought  of  it.  Expulsion  of  your  Twenty- 
two,  and  your  Commission  of  Twelve :  we  stand  here  till  it  be 
done  !  Deputation  after  Deputation,  in  ever  stronger  language, 
comes  with  that  message.  Barrere  proposes  a  middle  course : 
—  Will  not  perhaps  the  inculpated  Deputies  consent  to  with¬ 
draw  voluntarily ;  to  make  a  generous  demission  and  self- 
sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  one’s  country  ?  Isnard,  repentant  of 
that  search  on  which  river-bank  Paris  stood,  declares  himself 
ready  to  demit.  Ready  also  is  Te-Deum  Fauchet ;  old  Dusaulx 
of  the  Bastille,  “  vieux  radoteur,  old  dotard,”  as  Marat  calls 
him,  is  still  readier.  On  the  contrary,  Lanjuinais  the  Breton 
declares  that  there  is  one  man  who  never  will  demit  volun¬ 
tarily  ;  but  will  protest  to  the  uttermost,  while  a  voice  is  left 
him.  And  he  accordingly  goes  on  protesting ;  amid  rage  and 
clangor ;  Legendre  crying  at  last :  “  Lanjuinais,  come  down 
from  the  Tribune,  or  I  will  fling  thee  down,  ou  je  te  jette  en 
bas!”  For  matters  are  come  to  extremity.  Nay  they  do 
clutch  hold  of  Lanjuinais,  certain  zealous  Mountain-men ;  but 
cannot  fling  him  down,  for  he  “  cramps  himself  on  the  rail¬ 
ing  ;  ”  and  “  his  clothes  get  torn.”  Brave  Senator,  worthy  of 
pity  !  Neither  will  Barbaroux  demit ;  he  “  has  sworn  to  die 
at  his  post,  and  will  keep  that  oath.”  Whereupon  the  Gal¬ 
leries  all  rise  with  explosion;  brandishing  weapons,  some  of 
them  ;  and  rush  out,  saying  :  “  Allons,  then  ;  we  must  save  our 
country !  ”  Such  a  Session  is  this  of  Sunday  the  second  of 
J  une. 

Churches  fill,  over  Christian  Europe,  and  then  empty  them¬ 
selves  ;  but  this  Convention  empties  not,  the  while  :  a  day 
of  shrieking  contention,  of  agony,  humiliation  and  tearing  of 
coat-skirts  ;  ilia  suprema  dies  !  Round  stand  Henriot  and  his 
Hundred  Thousand,  copiously  refreshed  from  tray  and  basket : 
nay  he  is  “distributing  five  francs  apiece,”  we  Girondins  saw 
it  with  our  eyes ;  five  francs  to  keep  them  in  heart !  And  dis¬ 
traction  of  armed  riot  encumbers  our  borders,  jangles  at  our 
Bar  ;  we  are  prisoners  in  our  own  Hall :  Bishop  Gregoire  could 
not  get  out  for  a  besoin  actuel  without  four  gendarmes  to  wait 
on  him  !  What  is  the  character  of  a  National  Representative 


Chap.  IX.  EXTINCT.  309 

June  2. 

become  ?  And  now  the  sunlight  falls  yellower  on  western 
windows,  and  the  chimney-tops  are  flinging  longer  shadows  ; 
the  refreshed  Hundred  Thousand,  nor  their  shadows,  stir  not ! 
What  to  resolve  on  ?  Motion  rises,  superfluous  one  would 
think,  That  the  Convention  go  forth  in  a  body ;  ascertain  with 
its  own  eyes  whether  it  is  free  or  not.  Lo,  therefore,  from  the 
Eastern  Gate  of  the  Tuileries,  a  distressed  Convention  issuing ; 
handsome  Herault  Sechelles  at  their  head ;  he  with  hat  on,  in 
sign  of  public  calamity,  the  rest  bareheaded,  — -  towards  the 
Gate  of  the  Carrousel ;  wondrous  to  see  :  towards  Henriot  and 
his  plumed  Staff.  “In  the  name  of  the  National  Convention, 
make  way !  ”  Not  an  inch  of  way  does  Henriot  make :  “  I 
receive  no  orders,  till  the  Sovereign,  yours  and  mine,  have 
been  obeyed.”  The  Convention  presses  on ;  Henriot  prances 
back,  with  his  Staff,  some  fifteen  paces,  “To  arms  !  Cannoneers, 
to  your  guns  !  ”  —  flashes  out  his  puissant  sword,  as  the  Staff 
all  do,  and  the  Hussars  all  do.  Cannoneers  brandish  the  lit 
match;  Infantry  present  arms, — alas,  in  the  level  way,  as  if 
for  firing  !  Hatted  Herault  leads  his  distressed  flock,  through 
their  pinfold  of  a  Tuileries  again ;  across  the  Garden,  to  the 
Gate  on  the  opposite  side.  Here  is  Eeuillans-Terrace,  alas, 
there  is  our  old  Salle  de  Manege ;  but  neither  at  this  Gate  of 
the  Pont  Tournant  is  there  egress.  Try  the  other ;  and  the 
other  :  no  egress  !  We  wander  disconsolate  through  armed 
ranks ;  who  indeed  salute  with  Live  the  Republic,  but  also  with 
Die  the  Gironde .  Other  such  sight,  in  the  year  One  of  Liberty, 
the  westering  sun  never  saw. 

And  now  behold  Marat  meets  us  ;  for  he  lagged  in  this 
Suppliant  Procession  of  ours :  he  has  got  some  hundred  elect 
Patriots  at  his  heels  ;  he  orders  us,  in  the  Sovereign’s  name, 
to  return  to  our  place,  and  do  as  we  are  bidden  and  bound. 
The  Convention  returns.  “  Does  not  the  Convention,”  says 
Couthon  with  a  singular  power  of  face,  “  see  that  it  is  free,”  — 
none  but  friends  round  it  ?  The  Convention,  overflowing  with 
friends  and  armed  Sectioners,  proceeds  to  vote  as  bidden. 
Many  will  not  vote,  but  remain  silent ;  some  one  or  two 
protest,  in  words,  the  Mountain  has  a  clear  unanimity.  Com¬ 
mission  of  Twelve,  and  the  denounced  Twenty-two,  to  whom 


310  THE  GIRONDINS.  Book  XVI, 

1793. 

we  add  Ex-Ministers  Claviere  and  Lebrun :  these,  with  some 
slight  extempore  alterations  (this  or  that  orator  proposing, 
but  Marat  disposing),  are  voted  to  be  under  “Arrestment  in 
their  own  houses.”  Brissot,  Buzot,  Vergniaud,  Guadet,  Louvet, 
Gensonne,  Barbaroux,  Lasource,  Lanjuinais,  Babaut,  —  Thirty- 
two,  by  the  tale  ;  all  that  we  have  known  as  Girondins,  and 
more  than  we  have  known.  They,  “under  the  safeguard  of 
the  French  People ;  ”  by  and  by,  under  the  safeguard  of  two 
Gendarmes  each,  shall  dwell  peaceably  in  their  own  houses  ; 
as  Non-Senators  ;  till  farther  order.  Herewith  ends  Seance 
of  Sunday  the  second  of  June,  1793. 

At  ten  o’clock,  under  mild  stars,  the  Hundred  Thousand, 
their  work  well  finished,  turn  homewards.  Already  yesterday, 
Central  Insurrection  Committee  had  arrested  Madame  Roland ; 
imprisoned  her  in  the  Abbaye.  Roland  has  fled,  no  man 
knows  whither. 

Thus  fell  the  Girondins,  by  Insurrection;  and  became  ex¬ 
tinct  as  a  Party :  not  without  a  sigh  from  most  Historians. 
The  men  were  men  of  parts,  of  Philosophic  culture,  decent 
behavior ;  not  eondemnable  in  that  they  were  but  Pedants, 
and  had  not  better  parts  ;  not  eondemnable,  but  most  unfortu¬ 
nate.  They  wanted  a  Republic  of  the  Virtues,  wherein  them¬ 
selves  should  be  head ;  and  they  could  only  get  a  Republic 
of  the  Strengths,  wherein  others  than  they  were  head. 

For  the  rest,  Barrere  shall  make  Report  of  it.  The  night 
concludes  with  a  “  civic  promenade  by  torchlight :  ”  1  surely 
the  true  reign  of  Fraternity  is  now  not  far  ? 

1  Buzot,  Memoires,  p.  310.  See  Pieces  Justijicatives,  of  Narratives,  Commen¬ 
taries,  &c.  in  Buzot,  Louvet,  Meillan.  Documens  ComplCmentaires ,  in  Hist. 
Pari,  xxviii.  1-78. 


CHARLOTTE  CORD  AY. 


BOOK  XVII. 

TERROR. 

— « — 

CHAPTER  I. 

CHARLOTTE  CORDAY. 

In  the  leafy  months  of  June  and  July,  several  French  De¬ 
partments  germinate  a  set  of  rebellious  ^aper-leaves,  named 
Proclamations,  Resolutions,  Journals,  or  Diurnals,  “of  the 
Union  for  Resistance  to  Oppression.”  In  particular,  the  Town 
of  Caen,  in  Calvados,  sees  its  paper-leaf  of  Bulletin  de  Caen 
suddenly  bud,  suddenly  establish  itself  as  Newspaper  there ; 
under  the  Editorship  of  Girondin  National  Representatives  ! 

For  among  the  proscribed  Girondins  are  certain  of  a  more 
desperate  humor.  Some,  as  Yergniaud,  Yalaz^,  Gensonn4, 
“  arrested  in  their  own  houses,”  will  await  with  stoical  resig¬ 
nation  what  the  issue  may  be.  Some,  as  Brissot,  Rabaut,  will 
take  to  flight,  to  concealment ;  which,  as  the  Paris  Barriers  are 
opened  again  in  a  day  or  two,  is  not  yet  difficult.  But  others 
there  are  who  will  rush,  with  Buzot,  to  Calvados ;  or  far  over 
France,  to  Lyons,  Toulon,  Nantes  and  elsewhither,  and  then 
rendezvous  at  Caen:  to  awaken  as  with  war-trumpet  the  re¬ 
spectable  Departments ;  and  strike  down  an  anarchic  Moun¬ 
tain  Faction ;  at  least  not  yield  without  a  stroke  at  it.  Of 
this  latter  temper  we  count  some  score  or  more,  of  the  Ar¬ 
rested,  and  of  the  Not-yet-arrested :  a  Buzot,  a  Barbaroux, 
Louvet,  Guadet,  Petion,  who  have  escaped  from  Arrestment 
in  their  own  homes ;  a  Salles,  a  Pythagorean  Valady,  a  Du- 
chatel,  the  Duchatel  that  came  in  blanket  and  nightcap  to 


312  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

vote  for  the  life  of  Louis,  who  have  escaped  from  danger  and 
likelihood  of  Arrestment.  These,  to  the  number  at  one  time 
of  Twenty-seven,  do  accordingly  lodge  here,  at  the  “ Intend¬ 
ance ,  or  Departmental  Mansion,”  of  the  town  of  Caen  in  Cal¬ 
vados  ;  welcomed  by  Persons  in  Authority  ;  welcomed  and 
defrayed,  having  no  money  of  their  own.  And  the  Bulletin  de 
Caen  comes  forth,  with  the  most  animating  paragraphs  :  How 
the  Bordeaux  Department,  the  Lyons  Department,  this  De¬ 
partment  after  the  other  is  declaring  itself ;  sixty,  or  say 
sixty-nine,  or  seventy-two 1  respectable  Departments  either 
declaring,  or  ready  to  declare.  Nay  Marseilles,  it  seems,  will 
march  on  Paris  by  itself,  if  need  be.  So  has  Marseilles  Town 
said,  That  she  will  march.  But  on  the  other  hand,  that  Mon- 
telimart  Town  has  said,  No  thoroughfare  ;  and  means  even  to 
“  bury  herself  ”  under  her  own  stone  and  mortar  first,  —  of 
this  be  no  mention  in  Bulletin  de  Caen . 

Such  animating  paragraphs  we  read  in  this  new  News¬ 
paper;  and  fervors  and  eloquent  sarcasm  :  tirades  against 
the  Mountain,  from  the  pen  of  Deputy  Salles ;  which  resem¬ 
ble,  say  friends,  Pascal’s  Provincials.  What  is  more  to  the 
purpose,  these  Girondins  have  got  a  General  in  chief,  one 
Wimpfen,  formerly  under  Dumouriez ;  also  a  secondary  ques¬ 
tionable  General  Puisaye,  and  others ;  and  are  doing  their 
best  to  raise  a  force  for  war.  National  Volunteers,  whoso¬ 
ever  is  of  right  heart:  gather  in,  ye  national  Volunteers, 
friends  of  Liberty;  from  our  Calvados  Townships,  from  the 
Eure,  from  Brittany,  from  far  and  near :  forward  to  Paris, 
and  extinguish  Anarchy!  Thus  at  Caen,  in  the  early  July 
days,  there  is  a  drumming  and  parading,  a  perorating  and 
consulting :  Staff  and  Army  ;  Council ;  Club  of  Carabots,  Anti- 
Jacobin  friends  of  Freedom,  to  denounce  atrocious  Marat. 
With  all  which,  and  the  editing  of  Bulletins ,  a  National  Rep¬ 
resentative  has  his  hands  full. 

At  Caen  it  is  most  animated ;  and,  as  one  hopes,  more  or 
less  animated  in  the  “  Seventy-two  Departments  that  adhere 
to  us.”  And  in  a  France  begirt  with  Cimmerian  invading 
Coalitions,  and  torn  with  an  internal  La  Vendee,  this  is  the 

1  Meillan,  pp.  72,  73 ;  Louvet,  p.  129. 


Chap.  I.  CHARLOTTE  CORD  AY.  BIB 

July. 

conclusion  we  have  arrived  at :  To  put  down  Anarchy  by 
Civil  War !  Durum  et  durum ,  the  Proverb  says,  non  faciunt 
murum.  La  Vendee  burns :  Santerre  can  do  nothing  there ; 
he  may  return  home  and  brew  beer.  Cimmerian  bombshells 
fly  all  along  the  North.  That  Siege  of  Mentz  is  become 
famed ;  —  lovers  of  the  Picturesque  (as  Goethe  will  testify), 
washed  country-people  of  both  sexes,  stroll  thither  on  Sundays, 
to  see  the  artillery  work  and  counterwork  ;  “  you  only  duck  a 
little  while  the  shot  whizzes  past.”  1  Conde  is  capitulating  to 
the  Austrians  ;  Royal  Highness  of  York,  these  several  weeks, 
fiercely  batters  Valenciennes.  Por,  alas,  our  fortified  Camp  of 
Pamars  was  stormed  ;  General  Dampierre  was  killed ;  General 
Custine  was  blamed,  —  and  indeed  is  now  come  to  Paris  to 
give  “explanations.” 

Against  all  which  the  Mountain  and  atrocious  Marat  must 
even  make  head  as  they  can.  They,  anarchic  Convention  as 
they  are,  publish  Decrees,  expostulatory,  explanatory,  yet  not 
without  severity ;  they  ray  forth  Commissioners,  singly  or  in 
pairs,  the  olive-branch  in  one  hand,  yet  the  sword  in  the  other. 
Commissioners  come  even  to  Caen ;  but  without  effect.  Mathe¬ 
matical  Romme,  and  Prieur  named  of  the  Cote  d’Or,  ventur¬ 
ing  thither,  with  their  olive  and  sword,  are  packed  into  prison  : 
there  may  Romme  lie,  under  lock  and  key,  “  for  fifty  days  ;  ” 
and  meditate  his  New  Calendar,  if  he  please.  Cimmeria,  La 
Vendee,  and  Civil  War !  Never  was  Republic  One  and  Indi¬ 
visible  at  a  lower  ebb.  — 

Amid  which  dim  ferment  of  Caen  and  the  World,  History 
specially  notices  one  thing :  in  the  lobby  of  the  Mansion  de 
V Intendance,  where  busy  Deputies  are  coming  and  going,  a 
young  Lady  with  an  aged  valet,  taking  grave  graceful  leave  of 
Deputy  Barbaroux.2  She  is  of  stately  Norman  figure  ;  in  her 
twenty-fifth  year ;  of  beautiful  still  countenance  :  her  name 
is  Charlotte  Corday,  heretofore  styled  D’ Armans,  while  Nobil¬ 
ity  still  was.  Barbaroux  has  given  her  a  Note  to  Deputy 
Duperret,  —  him  who  once  drew  his  sword  in  the  effervescence. 
Apparently  she  will  to  Paris  on  some  errand  ?  “  She  was  a 

1  Belagerung  von  Mainz  (Goethe’s  Werlce,  xxx.  278-334). 

2  Meillan,  p.  75;  Louvet,  p.  114. 


314  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

Republican  before  the  Revolution,  and  never  wanted  energy.” 
A  completeness,  a  decision  is  in  this  fair  female  Figure :  “  by 
energy  she  means  the  spirit  that  will  prompt  one  to  sacrifice 
himself  for  his  country.”  What  if  she,  this  fair  young  Char¬ 
lotte,  had  emerged  from  her  secluded  stillness,  suddenly  like  a 
Star  ;  cruel-lovely,  with  half-angelic,  half -demonic  splendor ; 
to  gleam  for  a  moment,  and  in  a  moment  be  extinguished  :  to 
be  held  in  memory,  so  bright  complete  was  she,  through  long 
centuries  !  —  Quitting  Cimmerian  Coalitions  without,  and  the 
dim-simmering  Twenty-five  Millions  within,  History  will  look 
fixedly  at  this  one  fair  Apparition  of  a  Charlotte  Corday  ;  will 
note  whither  Charlotte  moves,  how  the  little  Life  burns  forth 
so  radiant,  then  vanishes  swallowed  of  the  Night. 

With  Barbaroux’s  Note  of  Introduction,  and  slight  stock  of 
luggage,  we  see  Charlotte  on  Tuesday  the  ninth  of  July  seated 
in  the  Caen  Diligence,  with  a  place  for  Baris.  None  takes 
farewell  of  her,  wishes  her  Good-journey  :  her  Father  will  find 
a  line  left,  signifying  that  she  has  gone  to  England,  that  he 
must  pardon  her,  and  forget  her.  The  drowsy  Diligence  lum¬ 
bers  along ;  amid  drowsy  talk  of  Politics,  and  praise  of  the 
Mountain ;  in  which  she  mingles  not :  all  night,  all  day,  and 
again  all  night.  On  Thursday,  not  long  before  noon,  we  are 
at  the  bridge  of  Neuilly ;  here  is  Paris  with  her  thousand 
black  domes,  the  goal  and  purpose  of  thy  journey  !  Arrived 
at  the  Inn  de  la  Providence  in  the  Rue  des  Yieux  Augustins, 
Charlotte  demands  a  room ;  hastens  to  bed  ;  sleeps  all  after¬ 
noon  and  night,  till  the  morrow  morning. 

On  the  morrow  morning,  she  delivers  her  Note  to  Duperret. 
It  relates  to  certain  Family  Papers  which  are  in  the  Minister 
of  the  Interior’s  hand ;  which  a  Nun  at  Caen,  an  old  Convent- 
friend  of  Charlotte’s,  has  need  of ;  which  Duperret  shall  assist 
her  in  getting :  this  then  was  Charlotte’s  errand  to  Paris  ? 
She  has  finished  this,  in  the  course  of  Friday  ;  —  yet  says 
nothing  of  returning.  She  has  seen  and  silently  investigated 
several  things.  The  Convention,  in  bodily  reality,  she  has 
seen ;  what  the  Mountain  is  like.  The  living  physiognomy  of 
Marat  she  could  not  see;  he  is  sick  at  present,  and  confined 
to  home. 


Chap.  I.  CHARLOTTE  CORD  AY.  815 

July  13. 

About  eight  on  the  Saturday  morning,  she  purchases  a  large 
sheath-knife  in  the  Palais  Royal;  then  straightway,  in  the 
Place  des  Victoires,  takes  a  hackney-coach :  “  To  the  Rue  de 
l’Ecole  de  Medecine,  No.  44.”  It  is  the  residence  of  the 
Citoyen  Marat !  —  The  Citoyen  Marat  is  ill,  and  cannot  be 
seen :  which  seems  to  disappoint  her  much.  Her  business 
is  with  Marat,  then  ?  Hapless  beautiful  Charlotte ;  hapless 
squalid  Marat !  Prom  Caen  in  the  utmost  West,  from  Neu- 
chatel  in  the  utmost  East,  they  two  are  drawing  nigh  each 
other ;  they  two  have,  very  strangely,  business  together.  — 
Charlotte,  returning  to  her  Inn,  despatches  a  short  Note  to 
Marat ;  signifying  that  she  is  from  Caen,  the  seat  of  rebellion ; 
that  she  desires  earnestly  to  see  him,  and  “  will  put  it  in  his 
power  to  do  Prance  a  great  service.”  No  answer.  Charlotte 
writes  another  Note,  still  more  pressing ;  sets  out  with  it  by 
coach,  about  seven  in  the  evening,  herself.  Tired  day-laborers 
have  again  finished  their  Week ;  huge  Paris  is  circling  and 
simmering,  manifold,  according  to  its  vague  wont:  this  one 
fair  Figure  has  decision  in  it;  drives  straight, — towards  a 
purpose. 

It  is  yellow  July  evening,  we  say,  the  thirteenth  of  the 
month ;  eve  of  the  Bastille  day,  —  when  “  M.  Marat,”  four 
years  ago,  in  the  crowd  of  the  Pont  Neuf,  shrewdly  required 
of  that  Besenval  Hussar-party,  which  had  such  friendly  dis¬ 
positions,  “  to  dismount,  and  give  up  their  arms,  then ;  ”  and 
became  notable  among  Patriot  men.  Four  years  :  what  a  road 
he  has  travelled ;  —  and  sits  now,  about  half-past  seven  of  the 
clock,  stewing  in  slipper-bath  ;  sore  afflicted  ;  ill  of  Revolution 
Fever,  —  of  what  other  malady  this  History  had  rather  not 
name.  Excessively  sick  and  worn,  poor  man :  with  precisely 
eleven-pence-halfpenny  of  ready-money,  in  paper ;  with  slip¬ 
per-bath  ;  strong  three-footed  stool  for  writing  on,  the  while ; 
and  a  squalid  —  Washerwoman,  one  may  call  her:  that  is  his 
civic  establishment  in  Medical-School  Street ;  thither  and  not 
elsewhither  has  his  road  led  him.  Not  to  the  reign  of  Brother¬ 
hood  and  Perfect  Felicity;  yet  surely  on  the  way  towards 
that  ?  —  Hark,  a  rap  again  !  A  musical  woman’s  voice,  refus¬ 
ing  to  be  rejected  :  it  is  the  Citoyenne  who  would  do  France  a 


816  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

service.  Marat,  recognizing  from  within,  cries,  Admit  her. 
Charlotte  Corday  is  admitted. 

Citoyen  Marat,  I  am  from  Caen  the  seat  of  rebellion,  and 
wished  to  speak  with  yon.  —  Be  seated,  mon  enfant.  Now 
what  are  the  Traitors  doing  at  Caen  ?  What  Deputies  are  at 
Caen  ?  —  Charlotte  names  some  Deputies.  u  Their  heads  shall 
fall  within  a  fortnight,”  croaks  the  eager  People’s-Friend, 
clutching  his  tablets  to  write  :  Barbaroux ,  Betion ,  writes  he 
with  bare  shrunk  arm,  turning  aside  in  the  bath :  Betion ,  and 
Louvet,  and  —  Charlotte  has  drawn  her  knife  from  the  sheath  ; 
plunges  it,  with  one  sure  stroke,  into  the  writer’s  heart.  u  A 
moi,  chere  amie,  Help,  dear  !  ”  no  more  could  the  Death-choked 
say  or  shriek.  The  helpful  Washerwoman  running  in,  there  is 
no  Friend  of  the  People,  or  Friend  of  the  Washerwoman  left ; 
but  his  life  with  a  groan  gushes  out,  indignant,  to  the  shades 
below.1 

And  so  Marat  People’s-Friend  is  ended :  the  lone  Stylites 
has  got  hurled  down  suddenly  from  his  Pillar,  —  whitherward 
He  that  made  him  knows.  Patriot  Paris  may  sound  triple 
and  tenfold,  in  dole  and  wail ;  re-echoed  by  Patriot  France ; 
and  the  Convention,  “  Chabot  pale  with  terror,  declaring  that 
they  are  to  be  all  assassinated,”  may  decree  him  Pantheon 
Honors,  Public  Funeral,  Mirabeau’s  dust  making  way  for 
him ;  and  Jacobin  Societies,  in  lamentable  oratory,  summing 
up  his  character,  parallel  him  to  One,  whom  they  think  it 
honor  to  call  “the  good  Sansculotte,”  —  whom  we  name  not 
here  ; 2  also  a  Chapel  may  be  made,  for  the  urn  that  holds  his 
Heart,  in  the  Place  du  Carrousel;  and  new-born  children  be 
named  Marat ;  and  Lago-di-Como  Hawkers  bake  mountains 
of  stucco  into  unbeautiful  Busts ;  and  David  paint  his  Picture, 
or  Death-Scene ;  and  such  other  Apotheosis  take  place  as  the 
human  genius,  in  these  circumstances,  can  devise  :  but  Marat 
returns  no  more  to  the  light  of  this  Sun.  One  sole  circum¬ 
stance  we  have  read  with  clear  sympathy,  in  the  old  Moniteur 

1  Moniteur,  Nos.  197,  198,  199;  Hist.  Pari,  xxviii.  301-305;  Deux  Amis, 
x.  368-374, 

2  See  Eloge  funelre  de  Jean-Paul  Marat,  prononce  a  Strasbourg  (in  Barba¬ 
roux,  pp.  125-131) ;  Mercier,  &c. 


Chap.  I.  CHARLOTTE  CORD  AY.  317 

July  17. 

Newspaper :  how  Marat’s  Brother  comes  from  Neuchatel  to 
ask  of  the  Convention,  “that  the  deceased  Jean-Paul  Marat’s 
musket  he  given  him.”1  For  Marat  too  had  a  brother  and 
natural  affections ;  and  was  wrapt  once  in  swaddling-clothes, 
and  slept  safe  in  a  cradle  like  the  rest  of  us.  Ye  children 
of  men! — A  sister  of  his,  they  say,  lives  still  to  this  day  in 
Paris. 

As  for  Charlotte  Corday,  her  work  is  accomplished ;  the 
recompense  of  it  is  near  and  sure.  The  chere  amie ,  and 
neighbors  of  the  house,  flying  at  her,  she  “overturns  some 
movables,”  entrenches  herself  till  the  gendarmes  arrive ;  then 
quietly  surrenders ;  goes  quietly  to  the  Abbaye  Prison  :  she 
alone  quiet,  all  Paris  sounding,  in  wonder,  in  rage  or  admi¬ 
ration,  round  her.  Duperret  is  put  in  arrest,  on  account  of 
her  ;  his  Papers  sealed,  —  which  may  lead  to  consequences. 
Fauchet,  in  like  manner ;  though  Fauchet  had  not  so  much  as 
heard  of  her.  Charlotte,  confronted  with  these  two  Deputies, 
praises  the  grave  firmness  of  Duperret,  censures  the  dejection 
of  Fauchet. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  the  thronged  Palais  de  Justice  and 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  can  see  her  face  ;  beautiful  and  calm  : 
she  dates  it  “  fourth  day  of  the  Preparation  of  Peace.”  A 
strange  murmur  ran  through  the  Hall,  at  sight  of  her ;  you 
could  not  say  of  what  character.2  Tinville  has  his  indictments 
and  tape-papers  :  the  cutler  of  the  Palais  Royal  will  testify 
that  he  sold  her  the  sheath-knife ;  “  All  these  details  are  need¬ 
less,”  interrupted  Charlotte  ;  “  it  is  I  that  killed  Marat.”  By 
whose  instigation?  —  “By  no  one’s.”  What  tempted  you, 
then  ?  His  crimes.  “  I  killed  one  man,”  added  she,  raising 
her  voice  extremely  ( extremement ),  as  they  went  on  with  their 
questions,  “  I  killed  one  man  to  save  a  hundred  thousand ;  a 
villain  to  save  innocents ;  a  savage  wild-beast  to  give  repose 
to  my  country.  I  was  a  Republican  before  the  Revolution  ;  I 
never  wanted  energy.”  There  is  therefore  nothing  to  be  said. 
The  public  gazes  astonished :  the  hasty  limners  sketch  her 
features,  Charlotte  not  disapproving :  the  men  of  law  proceed 

1  Seance  du  16  Septembre,  1793. 

2  Proces  de  Charlotte  Corday,  &c.  (Hist.  Pari,  xxviii.  311-338). 


318  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

with  their  formalities.  The  doom  is  Death  as  a  murderess. 
To  her  Advocate  she  gives  thanks ;  in  gentle  phrase,  in  high- 
flown  classical  spirit.  To  the  Priest  they  send  her  she  gives 
thanks  ;  but  needs  not  any  shriving,  any  ghostly  or  other  aid 
from  him. 

On  this  same  evening  therefore,  about  half-past  seven 
o’clock,  from  the  gate  of  the  Conciergerie,  to  a  City  all  on  tip¬ 
toe,  the  fatal  Cart  issues  ;  seated  on  it  a  fair  young  creature, 
sheeted  in  red  smock  of  Murderess  ;  so  beautiful,  serene,,  so 
full  of  life  j  journeying  towards  death,  —  alone  amid  the 
World.  Many  take  off  their  hats,  saluting  reverently;  for 
what  heart  but  must  be  touched  ? 1  Others  growl  and  howl. 
Adam  Lux,  of  Mentz,  declares  that  she  is  greater  than  Brutus ; 
that  it  were  beautiful  to  die  with  her  :  the  head  of  this  young 
man  seems  turned.  At  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  the  coun¬ 
tenance  of  Charlotte  wears  the  same  still  smile.  The  execu¬ 
tioners  jjroceed  to  bind  her  feet ;  she  resists,  thinking  it  meant 
as  an  insult ;  on  a  word  of  explanation,  she  submits  with 
cheerful  apology.  As  the  last  act,  all  being  now  ready,  they 
take  the  neckerchief  from  her  neck ;  a  blush  of  maidenly 
shame  overspreads  that  fair  face  and  neck ;  the  cheeks  were 
still  tinged  with  it  when  the  executioner  lifted  the  severed 
head,  to  show  it  to  the  people.  “  It  is  most  true,”  says  Fors¬ 
ter,  “  that  he  struck  the  cheek  insultingly ;  for  I  saw  it  with 
my  eyes  :  the  Police  imprisoned  him  for  it.”  2 

In  this  manner  have  the  Beautifulest  and  the  Squalidest 
come  in  collision,  and  extinguished  one  another.  Jean-Paul 
Marat  and  Marie-Anne  Charlotte  Corday  both,  suddenly,  are 
no  more.  “  Day  of  the  Preparation  of  Peace”?  Alas,  how 
were  peace  possible  or  preparable,  while,  for  example,  the 
hearts  of  lovely  Maidens,  in  their  convent-stillness,  are  dream¬ 
ing  not  of  Love-paradises  and  the  light  of  Life,  but  of  Codrus’- 
sacrifices  and  Death  well-earned  ?  That  Twenty-five  Million 
hearts  have  got  to  such  temper,  this  is  the  Anarchy ;  the  soul 
of  it  lies  in  this :  whereof  not  peace  can  be  the  embodiment ! 
The  death  of  Marat,  whetting  old  animosities  tenfold,  will  be 
worse  than  any  life.  0  ye  hapless  Two,  mutually  extinctive, 
1  Deux  Amis,  x.  374-384.  2  Brie/wechsel,  i.  508. 


Chap.  II.  IN  CIVIL  WAR.  319 

July  15. 

the  Beautiful  and  the  Squalid,  sleep  ye  well,  —  in  the  Mother's 
bosom  that  bore  you  both ! 

This  is  the  History  of  Charlotte  Corday ;  most  definite, 
most  complete ;  angelic-demonic :  like  a  Star  !  Adam  Lux 
goes  home,  half-delirious ;  to  pour  forth  his  Apotheosis  of  her, 
in  paper  and  print  5  to  propose  that  she  have  a  statue  with 
this  inscription,  Greater  than  Brutus.  Friends  represent  his 
danger ;  Lux  is  reckless  ;  thinks  it  were  beautiful  to  die  with 
her. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN  CIVIL  WAR. 

But  during  these  same  hours,  another  guillotine  is  at  work, 
on  another ;  Charlotte,  for  the  Girondins,  dies  at  Paris  to-day ; 
Chalier,  by  the  Girondins,  dies  at  Lyons  to-morrow. 

From  rumbling  of  cannon  along  the  streets  of  that  City, 
it  has  come  to  firing  of  them,  to  rabid  fighting:  Mevre  Choi 
and  the  Girondins  triumph ;  —  behind  whom  there  is,  as 
everywhere,  a  Royalist  Faction  waiting  to  strike  in.  Trouble 
enough  at  Lyons;  and  the  dominant  party  carrying  it  with 
a  high  hand !  For,  indeed,  the.  whole  South  is  astir ;  incar¬ 
cerating  Jacobins  ;  arming  for  Girondins  :  wherefore  we  have 
got  a  “  Congress  of  Lyons  ;  ”  also  a  “  Revolutionary  Tribunal 
of  Lyons,”  and  Anarchists  shall  tremble.  So  Chalier  was  soon 
found  guilty,  of  Jacobinism,  of  murderous  Plot,  “  address  with 
drawn  dagger  on  the  sixth  of  February  last ;  ”  and,  on  the 
morrow,  he  also  travels  his  final  road,  along  the  streets  of 
Lyons,  “by  the  side  of  an  ecclesiastic,  with  whom  he  seems 
to  speak  earnestly,”  —  the  axe  now  glittering  nigh.  He  could 
weep,  in  old  years,  this  man,  and  “fall  on  his  knees  on  the 
pavement,”  blessing  Heaven  at  sight  of  Federation  Programs 
or  the  like  ;  then  he  pilgrimed  to  Paris,  to  worship  Marat 
and  the  Mountain :  now  Marat  and  he  are  both  gone ;  —  we 
said  he  could  not  end  well.  Jacobinism  groans  inwardly,  at 
Lyons ;  but  dare  not  outwardly.  Chalier,  when  the  Tribunal 


320  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

sentenced  him,  made  answer  :  “  My  death  will  cost  this  City 
dear.” 

Montelimart  Town  is  dot  buried  under  its  ruins ;  yet 
Marseilles  is  actually  marching,  under  order  of  a  “  Lyons 
Congress ;  ”  is  incarcerating  Patriots ;  the  very  Royalists 
now  showing  face.  Against  which  a  General  Cartaux  fights, 
though  in  small  force;  and  with  him  an  Artillery  Major, 
of  the  name  of  —  Napoleon  Buonaparte.  This  Napoleon,  to 
prove  that  the  Marseillese  have  no  chance  ultimately,  not 
only  fights  but  writes ;  publishes  his  Supper  of  Beaucaire ,  a 
Dialogue  which  has  become  curious.1  Unfortunate  Cities, 
with  their  actions  and  their  reactions !  Violence  to  be  paid 
with  violence  in  geometrical  ratio ;  Royalism  and  Anarchism 
both  striking  in ;  —  the  final  net-amount  of  which  geometrical 
series,  what  man  shall  sum  ? 

The  Bar  of  Iron  has  never  yet  floated  in  Marseilles  Harbor ; 
but  the  Body  of  Rebecqui  was  found  floating,  self-drowned 
there.  Hot  Rebecqui,  seeing  how  confusion  deepened,  and 
Respectability  grew  poisoned  with  Royalism,  felt  that  there 
was  no  refuge  for  a  Republican  but  death.  Rebecqui  disap¬ 
peared  :  no  one  knew  whither ;  till,  one  morning,  they  found 
the  empty  case  or  body  of  him  risen  to  the  top,  tumbling  on 
the  salt  waves ; 2  and  perceived  that  Rebecqui  had  withdrawn 
forever.  —  Toulon  likewise  is.  incarcerating  Patriots  ;  sending 
delegates  to  Congress;  intriguing,  in  case  of  necessity,  with 
the  Royalists  and  English.  Montpellier,  Bordeaux,  Nantes : 
all  Prance,  that  is  not  under  the  swoop  of  Austria  and  Cim¬ 
meria,  seems  rushing  into  madness  and  suicidal  ruin.  The 
Mountain  labors ;  like  a  volcano  in  a  burning  volcanic  Land. 
Convention  Committees,  of  Surety,  of  Salvation,  are  busy 
night  and  day :  Convention  Commissioners  whirl  on  all  high¬ 
ways  ;  bearing  olive-branch  and  sword,  or  now  perhaps  sword 
only.  Chaumette  and  Municipals  come  daily  to  the  Tuileries 
demanding  a  Constitution :  it  is  some  weeks  now  since  he 
resolved,  in  Town-hall,  that  a  Deputation  “should  go  every 
day,”  and  demand  a  Constitution,  till  one  were  got ; 8  whereby 

1  See  Hazlitt,  ii.  529-541.  2  Barbaroux,  p.  29. 

3  Deux  Amis,  x.  345. 


Chap.  II.  IN  CIVIL  WAR  321 

July  15. 

suicidal  France  might  rally  and  pacify  itself;  a  thing  inex¬ 
pressibly  desirable. 

This  then  is  the  fruit  your  Anti-anarchic  Girondins  have  got 
from  that  Levying  of  War  in  Calvados  ?  This  fruit,  we  may 
say ;  and  no  other  whatsoever.  For  indeed,  before  either 
Charlotte’s  or  Chalier’s  head  had  fallen,  the  Calvados  War 
itself  had,  as  it  were,  vanished,  dreamlike,  in  a  shriek !  With 
“  seventy-two  Departments  ”  on  our  side,  one  might  have 
hoped  better  things.  But  it  turns  out  that  Respectabilities, 
though  they  will  vote,  will  not  hght.  Possession  always  is 
nine  points  in  Law ;  but  in  Lawsuits  of  this  kind,  one  may 
say,  it  is  ninety-and-nine  points.  Men  do  what  they  were 
wont  to  do ;  and  have  immense  irresolution  and  inertia  :  they 
obey  him  who  has  the  symbols  that  claim  obedience.  Consider 
what,  in  modern  society,  this  one  fact  means :  the  Metropolis 
is  with  our  enemies !  Metropolis,  Mother-city ;  rightly  so 
named :  all  the  rest  are  but  as  her  children,  her  nurslings. 
Why,  there  is  not  a  leathern  Diligence,  with  its  post-bags 
and  luggage-boots,  that  lumbers  out  from  her,  but  is  as  a 
huge  life-pulse;  she  is  the  heart  of  all.  Cut  short  that  one 
leathern  Diligence,  how  much  is  cut  short !  —  General  Wimp- 
fen,  looking  practically  into  the  matter,  can  see  nothing  for 
it  but  that  one  should  fall  back  on  Royalism ;  get  into  com¬ 
munication  with  Pitt !  Dark  innuendoes  he  flings  out,  to  that 
effect :  whereat  we  Girondins  start,  horror-struck.  He  pro¬ 
duces  as  his  Second  in  command  a  certain  “  Ci-devant one 
Comte  Puisaye ;  entirely  unknown  to  Louvet ;  greatly  sus¬ 
pected  by  him. 

Few  wars,  accordingly,  were  ever  levied  of  a  more  insuffi¬ 
cient  character  than  this  of  Calvados.  He  that  is  curious  in 
such  things  may  read  the  details  of  it  in  the  Memoirs  of  that 
same  Ci-devant  Puisaye,  the  much-enduring  man  and  Royalist : 
How  our  Girondin  National  forces,  marching  off  with  plenty 
of  wind-music,  were  drawn  out  about  the  old  Chateau  of 
Brecourt,  in  the  wood-country  near  Vernon,  to  meet  the 
Mountain  National  forces  advancing  from  Paris.  How  on 
the  fifteenth  afternoon  of  July,  they  did  meet;  —  and,  as  it 
were,  shrieked  mutually,  and  took  mutually  to  flight,  without 
VOL.  iv.  21 


322  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

loss.  How  Puisaye  thereafter  —  for  the  Mountain  Nationals 
fled  first,  and  we  thought  ourselves  the  victors  —  was  roused 
from  his  warm  bed  in  the  Castle  of  Br^court ;  and  had  to 
gallop  without  boots  ;  our  Nationals,  in  the  night-watches, 
having  fallen  unexpectedly  into  sauve-qui-peut :  —  and  in  brief 
the  Calvados  War  had  burnt  priming;  and  the  only  question 
now  was,  Whitherward  to  vanish,  in  what  hole  to  hide  one¬ 
self  ! 1 

The  National  Volunteers  rush  homewards,  faster  than 
they  came.  The  Seventy-two  Respectable  Departments,  says 
Median,  “all  turned  round  and  forsook  us,  in  the  space  of 
four-and-twenty  hours.”  Unhappy  those  who,  as  at  Lyons 
for  instance,  have  gone  too  far  for  turning !  “  One  morning,” 

we  find  placarded  on  our  Intendance  Mansion,  the  Decree 
of  Convention  which  casts  us  Hors  la  loi,  into  Outlawry ; 
placarded  by  our  Caen  Magistrates ;  —  clear  hint  that  we  also 
are  to  vanish.  Vanish  indeed :  but  whitherward  ?  Gorsas 
has  friends  in  Rennes ;  he  will  hide  there,  —  unhappily  will 
not  lie  hid.  Guadet,  Lanjuinais  are  on  cross  roads ;  making 
for  Bordeaux.  To  Bordeaux !  cries  the  general  voice,  of 
Valor  alike  and  of  Despair.  Some  flag  of  Respectability 
still  floats  there,  or  is  thought  to  float. 

Thitherward  therefore ;  each  as  he  can !  Eleven  of  these 
ill-fated  Deputies,  among  whom  we  may  count  as  twelfth, 
Friend  Riouffe  the  Man  of  Letters,  do  an  original  thing: 
Take  the  uniform  of  National  Volunteers,  and  retreat  south¬ 
ward  with  the  Breton  Battalion,  as  private  soldiers  of  that 
corps.  These  brave  Bretons  had  stood  truer  by  us  than  any 
other.  Nevertheless,  at  the  end  of  a  day  or  two,  they  also 
do  now  get  dubious,  self-divided ;  we  must  part  from  them ; 
and,  with  some  half-dozen  as  convoy  or  guide,  retreat  by 
ourselves,  —  a  solitary  marching  detachment,  through  waste 
regions  of  the  West.2 

1  Memoires  de  Puisaye  (London,  1803),  ii.  142-167. 

2  Louvet,  pp.  101-137  ;  Meillan,  pp.  81,  241-270. 


I 


Chap.  III. 
July. 


RETREAT  OF  THE  ELEVEN. 


323 


CHAPTER  III. 

RETREAT  OF  THE  ELEVEN. 

It  is  one  of  the  notablest  Retreats,  this  of  the  Eleven,  that 
History  presents :  The  handful  of  forlorn  Legislators  retreat¬ 
ing  there,  continually,  with  shouldered  firelock  and  well-filled 
cartridge-box,  in  the  yellow  autumn ;  long  hundreds  of  miles 
between  them  and  Bordeaux ;  the  country  all  getting  hostile, 
suspicious  of  the  truth ;  simmering  and  buzzing  on  all  sides, 
more  and  more.  Louvet  has  preserved  the  Itinerary  of  it ;  a 
piece  worth  all  the  rest  he  ever  wrote. 

0  virtuous  Petion,  with  thy  early-white  head,  0  brave 
young  Barbaroux,  has  it  come  to  this  ?  Weary  ways,  worn 
shoes,  light  purse ;  —  encompassed  with  perils  as  with  a  sea  ! 
Revolutionary  Committees  are  in  every  Township ;  of  Jaco¬ 
bin  temper ;  our  friends  all  cowed,  Our  cause  the  losing  one. 
In  the  Borough  of  Moncontour,  by  ill  chance,  it  is  market- 
day  :  to  the  gaping  public  such  transit  of  a  solitary  March¬ 
ing  Detachment  is  suspicious  ;  we  have  need  of  energy,  of 
promptitude  and  luck,  to  be  allowed  to  march  through. 
Hasten,  ye  weary  pilgrims !.  The  country  is  getting  up ; 
noise  of  you  is  bruited  day  after  day,  a  solitary  Twelve 
retreating  in  this  mysterious  manner  :  with  every  new  day, 
a  wider  wave  of  inquisitive  pursuing  tumult  is  stirred  up, 
till  the  whole  West  will  be  in  motion.  “  Cussy  is  tormented 
with  gout,  Buzot  is  too  fat  for  marching.”  Riouffe,  blistered, 
bleeding,  marches  only  on  tiptoe ;  Barbaroux  limps  with 
sprained  ankle,  yet  ever  cheery,  full  of  hope  and  valor.  Light 
Louvet  glances  hare-eyed,  not  hare-hearted:  only  virtuous 
Petion’s  serenity  “  was  but  once  seen  ruffled.”  1  They  lie  in 
straw-lofts,  in  woody  brakes ;  rudest  paillasse  on  the  floor  of 

1  Median,  pp.  119-137. 


324  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

a  secret  friend  is  luxury.  They  are  seized  in  the  dead  of 
night  by  Jacobin  mayors  and  tap  of  drum ;  get  off  by  firm 
countenance,  rattle  of  muskets  and  ready  wit. 

Of  Bordeaux,  through  fiery  La  Vendee  and  the  long  geo¬ 
graphical  spaces  that  remain,  it  were  madness  to  think :  well 
if  you  can  get  to  Quimper  on  the  sea-coast,  and  take  shipping 
there.  Faster,  ever  faster !  Before  the  end  of  the  march,  so 
hot  has  the  country  grown,  it  is  found  advisable  to  march  all 
night.  They  do  it;  under  the  still  night-canopy  they  plod 
along;  —  and  yet  behold,  Rumor  has  outplodded  them.  In 
the  paltry  Village  of  Carhaix  (be  its  thatched  huts  and  bot¬ 
tomless  peat-bogs  long  notable  to  the  Traveller),  one  is  aston¬ 
ished  to  find  light  still  glimmering :  citizens  are  awake,  with 
rushlights  burning,  in  that  nook  of  the  terrestrial  Planet; 
as  we  traverse  swiftly  the  one  poor  street,  a  voice  is  heard  say¬ 
ing,  “  There  they  are,  Les  voila  qui  passent !  ”  1  Swifter,  ye 
doomed  lame  Twelve :  speed  ere  they  can  arm ;  gain  the 
Woods  of  Quimper  before  day,  and  lie  squatted  there  ! 

The  doomed  Twelve  do  it ;  though  with  difficulty,  with 
loss  of  road,  with  peril  and  the  mistakes  of  a  night.  In 
Quimper  are  Girondin  friends,  who  perhaps  will  harbor  the 
homeless,  till  a  Bordeaux  ship  weigh.  Wayworn,  heart-worn, 
in  agony  of  suspense,  till  Quimper  friendship  get  warning, 
they  lie  there,  squatted  under  the  thick  wet  boscage ;  suspi¬ 
cious  of  the  face  of  man.  Some  pity  to  the  brave;  to  the 
unhappy  !  Unhappiest  of  all  Legislators,  oh  when  ye  packed 
your  luggage,  some  score  or  twoscore  months  ago,  and  mounted 
this  or  the  other  leathern  vehicle,  to  be  Conscript  Fathers 
of  a  regenerated  France,  and  reap  deathless  laurels,  —  did 
you  think  your  journey  was  to  lead  hither?  The  Quimper 
Samaritans  find  them  squatted;  lift  them  up  to  help  and 
comfort;  will  hide  them  in  sure  places.  Thence  let  them 
dissipate  gradually ;  or  there  they  can  lie  quiet,  and  write 
Memoirs ,  till  a  Bordeaux  ship  sail. 

And  thus,  in  Calvados  all  is  dissipated ;  Eomme  is  out  of 
prison,  meditating  his  Calendar;  ringleaders  are  locked  in 

1  Louvet,  pp.  138-164. 


Chap.  III.  RETREAT  OF  THE  ELEVEN.  325 

July. 

his  room.  At  Caen  the  Corday  family  mourns  in  silence  : 
Buzot’s  House  is  a  heap  of  dust  and  demolition;  and  amid 
the  rubbish  sticks  a  Gallows,  with  this  inscription,  Here  dwelt 
the  Traitor  Buzot,  who  conspired  against  the  Republic.  Buzot 
and  the  other  vanished  Deputies  are  hors  la  loi,  as  we  saw  ; 
their  lives  free  to  take  where  they  can  be  found.  The  worse 
fares  it  with  the  poor  Arrested  visible  Deputies  at  Paris. 
“  Arrestment  at  home  ”  threatens  to  become  “  Confinement  in 
the  Luxembourg  j  ”  to  end  :  where  ?  For  example,  what  pale- 
visaged  thin  man  is  this,  journeying  towards  Switzerland  as 
a  Merchant  of  Neuchatel,  whom  they  arrest  in  the  town  of 
Moulins?  To  Revolutionary  Committee  he  is  suspect.  To 
Revolutionary  Committee,  on  probing  the  matter,  he  is  evi¬ 
dently  :  Deputy  Brissot !  Back  to  thy  Arrestment,  poor 
Brissot ;  or  indeed  to  strait  confinement,  —  whither  others 
are  fated  to  follow.  Rabaut  has  built  himself  a  false-parti- 
tion,  in  a  friend’s  house  ;  lives,  in  invisible  darkness,  between 
two  walls.  It  will  end,  this  same  Arrestment  business,  in 
Prison,  and  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

Nor  must  we  forget  Duperret,  and  the  seal  put  on  his 
papers  by  reason  of  Charlotte.  One  Paper  is  there,  fit  to 
breed  woe  enough :  A  secret  solemn  Protest  against  that 
suprema  dies  of  the  Second  of  June  !  This  Secret  Protest 
our  poor  Duperret  had  drawn  up,  the  same  week,  in  all  plain¬ 
ness  of  speech ;  waiting  the  time  for  publishing  it :  to  which 
Secret  Protest  his  signature,  and  that  of  other  honorable  Dep¬ 
uties  not  a  few,  stands  legibly  appended.  And  now,  if  the 
seals  were  once  broken,  the  Mountain  still  victorious  ?  Such 
Protesters,  your  Merciers,  Bailleuls,  Seventy-three  by  the  tale, 
what  yet  remains  of  Respectable  Girondism  in  the  Convention, 
may  tremble  to  think !  —  These  are  the  fruits  of  levying  civil 
war. 

Also  we  find,  that  in  these  last  days  of  July,  the  famed 
Siege  of  Mentz  is  finished :  the  Garrison  to  march  out  with 
honors  of  war ;  not  to  serve  against  the  Coalition  for  a  year. 
Lovers  of  the  Picturesque,  and  Goethe  standing  on  the 
Chaussee  of  Mentz,  saw,  with  due  interest,  the  Procession  issu¬ 
ing  forth,,  in  all  solemnity  :  — 


326  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

“  Escorted  by  Prussian  horse  came  first  the  French  Gar¬ 
rison.  Nothing  could  look  stranger  than  this  latter;  a  col¬ 
umn  of  Marseillese,  slight,  swarthy,  parti-colored,  in  patched, 
clothes,  came  tripping  on ;  —  as  if  King  Edwin  had  opened 
the  Dwarf  Hill,  and  sent  out  his  nimble  Host  of  Dwarfs. 
Next  followed  regular  troops  ;  serious,  sullen;  not  as  if  down¬ 
cast  or  ashamed.  But  the  remarkablest  appearance,  which 
struck  every  one,  was  that  of  the  Chasers  ( Chasseurs )  coming 
out  mounted  :  they  had  advanced  quite  silent  to  where  we 
stood,  when  their  Band  struck  up  the  Marseillaise.  This  rev¬ 
olutionary  Te-Deum  has  in  itself  something  mournful  and 
bodeful,  however  briskly  played ;  but  at  present  they  gave  it 
in  altogether  slow  time,  proportionate  to  the  creeping  step 
they  rode  at.  It  was  piercing  and  fearful,  and  a  most  serious- 
looking  thing,  as  these  cavaliers,  long,  lean  men,  of  a  certain 
age,  with  mien  suitable  to  the  music,  came  pacing  on :  singly 
you  might  have  likened  them  to  Don  Quixote ;  in  mass,  they 
were  highly  dignified. 

“  But  now  a  single  troop  became  notable :  that  of  the 
Commissioners  or  Representans.  Merlin  of  Thionville,  in 
hussar  uniform,  distinguishing  himself  by  wild  beard  and 
look,  had  another  person  in  similar  costume  on  his  left ;  the 
crowd  shouted  out,  with  rage,  at  sight  of  this  latter,  the  name 
of  a  Jacobin  Townsman  and  Clubbist ;  and  shook  itself  to 
seize  him.  Merlin  drew  bridle ;  referred  to  his  dignity  as 
French  Representative,  to  the  vengeance  that  should  follow 
any  injury  done;  he  would  advise  every  one  to  compose 
himself,  for  this  was  not  the  last  time  they  would  see  him 
here.”  1  Thus  rode  Merlin ;  threatening  in  defeat.  But  what 
now  shall  stem  that  tide  of  Prussians  setting  in  through  the 
opened  Northeast  ?  Lucky  if  fortified  Lines  of  Weissem- 
bourg,  and  impassabilities  of  Vosges  Mountains  confine  it  to 
French  Alsace,  keep  it  from  submerging  the  very  heart  of  the 
country  ! 

Furthermore,  precisely  in  the  same  days,  Valenciennes 
Siege  is  finished,  in  the  Northwest :  —  fallen,  under  the  red 
hail  of  York !  Conde  fell  some  fortnight  since.  Cimmerian 
1  Belagerung  von  Mainz  (Goethe’s  Werke ,  xxx.  315).  • 


0  NATURE! 


327 


Chap.  IV. 

August  10. 

Coalition  presses  on.  What  seems  very  notable  too,  on  all 
these  captured  French  Towns  there  flies  not  the  Royalist 
fleur-de-lys,  in  the  name  of  a  new  Louis  the  Pretender ;  but 
the  Austrian  flag  flies  ;  as  if  Austria  meant  to  keep  them  for 1 
herself !  Perhaps  General  Custine,  still  in  Paris,  can  give 
some  explanation  of  the  fall  of  these  strong-places  ?  Mother 
Society,  from  tribune  and  gallery,  growls  loud  that  he  ought 
to  do  it ;  —  remarks,  however,  in  a  splenetic  manner  that  “  the 
Monsieurs  of  the  Palais  Royal  ”  are  calling  Long-life  to  this 
General. 

The  Mother  Society,  purged  now,  by  successive  “scrutinies 
or  epurations  ”  from  all  taint  of  Girondism,  has  become  a  great 
Authority  :  what  we  can  call  shield-bearer  or  bottle-holder, 
nay  call  it  fugleman,  to  the  purged  National  Convention  it¬ 
self.  The  Jacobins  Debates  are  reported  in  the  Moniteur,  like 
Parliamentary  ones. 


- * - 

CHAPTER  IV. 
o  nature! 

But  looking  more  specially  into  Paris  City,  what  is  this 
that  History,  on  the  10th  of  August,  Year  One  of  Liberty, 
“  by  old-style,  year  1793/’  discerns  there  ?  Praised  be  the 
Heavens,  a  new  Feast  of  Pikes  ! 

For  Chaumette’s  “Deputation  everyday”  has  worked  out 
its  result :  a  Constitution.  It  was  one  of  the  rapidest  Con¬ 
stitutions  ever  put  together ;  made,  some  say  in  eight  days, 
by  Herault  Sechelles  and  others  ;  probably  a  workmanlike, 
roadworthy  Constitution  enough  ;  —  on  which  point,  however, 
we  are,  for  some  reasons,  little  called  to  form  a  judgment. 
Workmanlike  or  not,  the  Forty-four  Thousand  Communes  of 
France,  by  overwhelming  majorities,  did  hasten  to  accept 
it ;  glad  of  any  Constitution  whatsoever.  Nay  Departmental 
Deputies  have  come,  the  venerablest  Republicans  of  each 
Department,  with  solemn  message  of  Acceptance ;  and  now 


328  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793. 

what  remains  but  that  our  new  Final  Constitution  be  pro¬ 
claimed,  and  sworn  to,  in  Feast  of  Pikes  ?  The  Departmental 
Deputies,  we  say,  are  come  some  time  ago ;  Chaumette  very 
•  anxious  about  them,  lest  Girondin  Monsieur s,  Agio-jobbers,  or 
were  it  even  Filles  dejoie  of  a  Girondin  temper,  corrupt  their 
morals.1  Tenth  of  August,  immortal  Anniversary,  greater 
almost  than  Bastille  July,  is  the  Day. 

Painter  David  has  not  been  idle.  Thanks  to  David  and 
the  French  genius,  there  steps  forth  into  the  sunlight,  this 
day,  a  Scenic  Phantasmagory  unexampled :  —  whereof  His¬ 
tory,  so  occupied  with  Real  Phantasmagories,  will  say  but 
little. 

For  one  thing,  History  can  notice  with  satisfaction,  on  the 
ruins  of  the  Bastille,  a  Statue  of  Nature ;  gigantic,  spouting 
water  from  her  two  mammelles.  Not  a  Dream  this ;  but  a  fact, 
palpable  visible.  There  she  spouts,  great  Nature ;  dim,  before 
daybreak.  But  as  the  coming  Sun  ruddies  the  East,  come 
countless  Multitudes,  regulated  and  unregulated ;  come  Depart¬ 
mental  Deputies,  come  Mother  Society  and  Daughters ;  comes 
National  Convention,  led  on  by  handsome  Herault ;  soft  wind- 
music  breathing  note  of  expectation.  Lo,  as  great  Sol  scatters 
his  first  fire-handful,  tipping  the  hills  and  chimney-heads  with 
gold,  Herault  is  at  great  Nature’s  feet  (she  is  plaster-of-paris 
merely)  ;  Herault  lifts,  in  an  iron  saucer,  water  spouted  from 
the  sacred  breasts ;  drinks  of  it,  with  an  eloquent  Pagan 
Prayer,  beginning,  “  0  Nature !  ”  and  all  the  Departmental 
Deputies  drink,  each  with  what  best  suitable  ejaculation  or 
prophetic-utterance  is  in  him , —  amid  breathings,  which  become 
blasts,  of  wind-music;  and  the  roar  of  artillery  and  human 
throats :  finishing  well  the  first  act  of  this  solemnity. 

Next  are  processionings  along  the  Boulevards :  Deputies  or 
Officials  bound  together  by  long  indivisible  tricolor  ribbon; 
general  “ members  of  the  Sovereign”  walking  pell-mell,  with 
pikes,  writh  hammers,  with  the  tools  and  emblems  of  their 
crafts :  among  which  wre  notice  a  Plough,  and  ancient  Baucis 
and  Philemon  seated  on  it,  drawn  by  their  children.  Many¬ 
voiced  harmony  and  dissonance  filling  the  air.  Through  Tri- 

1  Deux  Amis ,  xi.  73. 


0  NATURE! 


329 


Chap.  IV. 

August  10. 

umphal  Arches  enough :  at  the  basis  of  the  first  of  which,  we 
descry  —  whom  thinkest  thou  ?  —  the  Heroines  of  the  Insur¬ 
rection  of  Women.  Strong  Dames  of  the  Market,  they  sit  there 
(Theroigne  too  ill  to  attend,  one  fears),  with  oak-branches,  tri¬ 
color  bedizenment  ;  firm  seated  on  their  Cannons.  To  whom 
handsome  Herault,  making  pause  of  admiration,  addresses 
soothing  eloquence ;  whereupon  they  rise  and  fall  into  the 
march. 

And  now  mark,  in  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  what  other 
august  Statue  may  this  be ;  veiled  in  canvas,  —  which  swiftly 
we  shear  off,  by  pulley  and  cord?  The  Statue  of  Liberty! 
She  too  is  of  plaster,  hoping  to  become  of  metal ;  stands  where 
a  Tyrant  Louis  Quinze  once  stood.  “  Three  thousand  birds  ” 
are  let  loose,  into  the  whole  world,  with  labels  round  their  neck, 
We  are  free  ;  imitate  us.  Holocaust  of  Royalist  and  ci-devant 
trumpery,  such  as  one  could  still  gather,  is  burnt;  pontifical 
eloquence  must  be  uttered,  by  handsome  Herault,  and  Pagan 
orisons  offered  up. 

And  then  forward  across  the  River ;  where  is  new  enormous 
Statuary  ;  enormous  plaster  Mountain ;  Hercules -Peuple,  with 
uplifted  all-conquering  club ;  “  many-headed  Dragon  of  Giron- 
din  Federalism  rising  from  fetid  marsh  —  needing  new  elo¬ 
quence  from  Herault.  To  say  nothing  of  Champ-de-Mars,  and 
Fatherland’s  Altar  there  ;  with  urn  of  slain  Defenders,  Carpen- 
ter’s-level  of  the  Law ;  and  such  exploding,  gesticulating  and 
perorating,  that  Herault’ s  lips  must  be  growing  white,  and  his 
tonguq  cleaving  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth.1 

Towards  six  o’clock  let  the  wearied  President,  let  Paris 
Patriotism  generally  sit  down  to  what  repast,  and  social  re¬ 
pasts,  can  be  had ;  and  with  flowing  tankard  or  light-mantling 
glass,  usher  in  this  New  and  Newest  Era.  In  fact,  is  not 
Romme’s  New  Calendar  getting  ready  ?  On  all  house-tops 
flicker  little  tricolor  Flags,  their  flagstaff  a  Pike  and  Liberty- 
Cap.  On  all  house-walls,  —  for  no  Patriot  not  suspect  wfill 
be  behind  another,  —  there  stand  printed  these  words  :  Re¬ 
public  one  and  indivisible ;  Liberty ,  Equality,  Fraternity ,  or 
Death. 


1  Choix  des  Rapports,  xii.  432-442. 


330  TERROR.  Book  XYII 

*  1793. 

As  to  tlie  New  Calendar,  we  may  say  here  rather  than  else¬ 
where  that  speculative  men  have  long  been  struck  with  the 
inequalities  and  incongruities  of  the  Old  Calendar;  that  a  New 
one  has  long  been  as  good  as  determined  on.  Marechal  the 
Atheist,  almost  ten  years  ago,  proposed  a  New  Calendar,  free 
at  least  from  superstition :  this  the  Paris  Municipality  would 
now  adopt,  in  defect  of  a  better ;  at  all  events,  let  us  have 
either  this  of  Marechal’s  or  a  better, — the  New  Era  being 
come.  Petitions,  more  than  once,  have  been  sent  to  that 
effect ;  and  indeed,  for  a  year  past,  all  Public  Bodies,  Journal¬ 
ists,  and  Patriots  in  general,  have  dated  First  Year  of  the 
Republic.  It  is  a  subject  not  without  difficulties.  But  the 
Convention  has  taken  it  up ;  and  Bomme,  as  we  say,  has  been 
meditating  it ;  not  MarechaFs  New  Calendar,  but  a  better  New 
one  of  Eomme’s  and  our  own.  Bomme,  aided  by  a  Monge,  a 
Lagrange  and  others,  furnishes  mathematics  ;  Fabre  d’Eglan- 
tine  furnishes  poetic  nomenclature :  and  so,  on  the  5tli  of 
October,  1793,  after  trouble  enough,  they  bring  forth  this  New 
Bepublican  Calendar  of  theirs,  in  a  complete  state ;  and  by 
Law  get  it  put  in  action. 

Four  equal  Seasons,  Twelve  equal  Months  of  Thirty  days 
each ;  this  makes  three  hundred  and  sixty  days ;  and  five  odd 
days  remain  to  be  disposed  of.  The  five  odd  days  we  will 
make  Festivals,  and  name-  the  five  Sansculottides ,  or  Days 
without  Breeches.  Festival  of  Genius;  Festival  of  Labor; 
of  Actions ;  of  Bewards  ;  of  Opinion  :  these  are  the  five  Sans¬ 
culottides.  Whereby  the  great  Circle,  or  Year,  is  made  com¬ 
plete:  solely  every  fourth  year,  whilom  called  Leap-year,  we 
introduce  a  sixth  Sansculottide ;  and  name  it  Festival  of  the 
Bevolution.  Now  as  to  the  day  of  commencement,  which 
offers  difficulties,  is  it  not  one  of  the  luckiest  coincidences 
that  the  Bepublic  herself  commenced  on  the  21st  of  Septem¬ 
ber  ;  close  on  the  Autumnal  Equinox  ?  Autumnal  Equinox,  at 
midnight  for  the  meridian  of  Paris,  in  the  year  whilom  Chris¬ 
tian  1792,  from  that  moment  shall  the  New  Era  reckon  itself 
to  begin.  Vendemiaire,  Brumaire ,  Frhnaire ;  or  as  one  might 
say,  in  mixed  English,  Vintagearious,  Fogarious,  Frostarious : 
these  are  our  three  Autumn  months.  Nivose,  Pluviose ,  Ventose, 


Chap.  IV.  0  NATURE  !  331 

October  5. 

or  say  Snowous,  Rainous,  Windous,  make  our  Winter  season. 
Germinal ,  Flore  al,  Prairial,  or  Buddal ,  Floweral,  Meadowal , 
are  our  Spring  season.  Messidor,  Thermidor,  Fructidor,  that 
is  to  say  ( dor  being  Greek  for  gift),  Reapidor,  Heatidor ,  Fruiti- 
dor ,  are  Republican  Summer.  These  Twelve,  in  a  singular 
manner,  divide  the  Republican  Year.  Then  as  to  minuter  sub¬ 
divisions,  let  us  venture  at  once  on  a  bold  stroke  :  adopt  your 
decimal  subdivision;  and  instead  of  the  world-old  Week,  or 
Se’ennight ,  make  it  a  Tennight ,  or  Decade  ;  —  not  without  re¬ 
sults.  There  are  three  Decades,  then,  in  each  of  the  months, 
which  is  very  regular;  and  the  Decadi,  or  Tenth-day,  shall 
always  be  the  “  Day  of  Rest.”  And  the  Christian  Sabbath,  in 
that  case  ?  Shall  shift  for  itself ! 

This,  in  brief,  is  the  New  Calendar  of  Romme  and  the  Con¬ 
vention  ; 1  calculated  for  the  meridian  of  Paris,  and  Gospel  of 

1  September  22d  of  1792  is  Vendemiaire  1st  of  Year  One,  and  the  new 
months  are  all  of  30  days  each ;  therefore :  — 


Vendemiaire  . 
Brumaire  .  . 

ADD 

.  21 

.  21 

d 

•  pH 

September  . 
October  .  . 

DAYS 

.  .  30 

.  .  31 

d 

•  p-« 

Frimaire  .  . 

.  20 

November  . 

.  .  30 

c3 

<D 

Nivose  .  .  . 

.  20 

<u 

-d 

December  . 

.  .  31 

rC 

4-3 

Pluviose  .  . 

.  19 

o 

J anuary  .  . 

.  .  31 

o 

Ventose .  .  . 

.  18 

O) 

rO 

February  . 

.  .  28 

n 

<D 

rQ 

d 

Germinal  .  . 

.  20 

a 

d 

d 

March  .  . 

.  .  31 

d 

Floreal  .  .  . 

.  19 

p£ 

+3 

April  .  .  . 

.  .  30 

p3 

4-3 

Prairial  .  .  . 

.  19 

© 

May  .  .  . 

.  .  31 

o 

H 

Messidor  .  . 

.  18 

c3 

rd 

o> 

June  .  .  . 

.  .  30 

Thermidor  .  . 
Fructidor  .  . 

.  18 

.  17 

July  .  .  . 

August  .  . 

.  .  31 

There  are  5  Sansculottides,  and  in  leap-year  a  sixth,  to  he  added  at  the  end  of 
Fructidor.  Romme’s  first  Leap-year  is  “An  4”  (1795,  not  1796),  which  is 
another  troublesome  circumstance,  every  fourth  year,  from  “  September  23d  ” 
round  to  “Februqjy  29  ”  again. 

The  New  Calendar  ceased  on  the  1st  of  January,  1806.  See  Choix  des 
Rapports,  xiii.  83-99  ;  xix.  199. 


332  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793  [Year  1. 

Jean  Jacques  :  not  one  of  the  least  afflicting  occurrences  for 
the  actual  British  reader  of  French  History ;  —  confusing  the 
soul  with  Messidors,  Meadoivals  ;  till  at  last,  in  self-defence,  one 
is  forced  to  construct  some  ground-scheme,  or  rule  of  Commu¬ 
tation  from  New-style  to  Old-style,  and  have  it  lying  by  him. 
Such  ground-scheme,  almost  worn  out  in  our  service,  but  still 
legible  and  printable,  we  have  in  a  Note  presented  to  the  reader. 
For  the  Romme  Calendar,  in  so  many  Newspapers,  Memoirs, 
Public  Acts,  has  stamped  itself  deep  into  that  section  of  Time  : 
a  New  Era  that  lasts  some  twelve  years  and  odd  is  not  to  be 
despised.  Let  the  Reader,  therefore,  with  such  ground-scheme, 
help  himself,  where  needful,  out  of  New-style  into  Old-style, 
called  also  “slave-style,  stile-esclave  ;  ” — whereof  we,  in  these 
pages,  shall  as  much  as  possible  use  the  latter  only. 

Thus  with  new  Feast  of  Pikes,  and  New  Era  or  New  Cal¬ 
endar,  did  France  accept  her  New  Constitution:  the  most 
Democratic  Constitution  ever  committed  to  paper.  How  it 
will  work  in  practice  ?  Patriot  Deputations,  from  time  to 
time,  solicit  fruition  of  it :  that  it  be  set  a-going.  Always, 
however,  this  seems  questionable ;  for  the  moment,  unsuita¬ 
ble.  Till,  in  some  weeks,  Saint  Public,  through  the  organ  of 
Saint- Just,  makes  report,  that,  in  the  present  alarming  circum¬ 
stances,  the  state  of  France  is  Revolutionary  ;  that  her  “  Gov¬ 
ernment  must  be  Revolutionary  till  the  Peace.”  Solely  as 
Paper,  then,  and  as  a  Hope,  must  this  poor  new  Constitu¬ 
tion  exist ;  —  in  which  shape  we  may  conceive  it  lying,  even 
now,  with  an  infinity  of  other  things,  in  that  Limbo  near  the 
Moon.  Farther  than  paper  it  never  got,  nor  ever  will  get. 


- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  V. 

SWORD  OF  SHARPNESS. 

In  fact,  it  is  something  quite  other  than  paper  theorems,  it 
is  iron  and  audacity  that  France  now  needs. 

Is  not  La  Vendee  still  blazing  ;  —  alas  too  literally ;  rogue 
Rossignol  burning  the  very  corn-mills  ?  General  Santerre  could 


SAINT  JUST 


chap.  V.  SWORD  OF  SHARPNESS.  333 

Fruct.]  Aug. 

do  nothing  there ;  General  Rossignol,  in  blind  fury,  often  in 
liquor,  can  do  less  than  nothing.  Rebellion  spreads,  grows 
ever  madder.  Happily  those  lean  Quixote-figures,  whom  we 
saw  retreating  out  of  Mentz,  “  bound  not  to  serve  against  the 
Coalition  for  a  year,”  have  got  to  Paris.  National  Conven¬ 
tion  packs  them  into  post-vehicles  and  conveyances ;  sends 
them  swiftly,  by  post,  into  La  Vendee.  There  valiantly  strug¬ 
gling,  in  obscure  battle  and  skirmish,  under  rogue  Rossignol, 
let  them,  unlaurelled,  save  the  Republic,  and  “be  cut  down 
gradually  to  the  last  man.”  1 

Does  not  the  Coalition,  like  a  fire-tide,  pour  in  ;  Prussia 
through  the  opened  Northeast ;  Austria,  England  through  the 
Northwest  ?  General  Houchard  prospers  no  better  there  than 
General  Custine  did :  let  him  look  to  it !  Through  the  Eastern 
and  the  Western  Pyrenees  Spain  has  deployed  itself ;  spreads, 
rustling  with  Bourbon  banners,  over  the  face  of  the  South. 
Ashes  and  embers  of  confused  Girondin  civil  war  covered  that 
region  already.  Marseilles  is  damped  down,  not  quenched  ; 
to  be  quenched  in  blood.  Toulon,  terror-struck,  too  far  gone 
for  turning,  has  flung  itself,  ye  righteous  Powers,  into  the 
hands  of  the  English !  On  Toulon  Arsenal  there  flies  a  flag, 
—  nay  not  even  the  Eleur-de-lys  of  a  Louis  Pretender ;  there 
flies  that  accursed  St.  George’s  Cross  of  the  English  and  Ad¬ 
miral  Hood!  What  remnant  of  sea-craft,  arsenals,  roperies, 
war-navy  France  had,  has  given  itself  to  these  enemies  of 
human  nature,  “  ennemis  du  genre  humain .”  Beleaguer  it, 
bombard  it,  ye  Commissioners  Barras,  Freron,  Robespierre 
Junior;  thou  General  Cartaux,  General  Dugommier;  above 
all,  thou  remarkable  Artillery-Major,  Napoleon  Buonaparte ! 
Hood  is  fortifying  himself,  victualling  himself ;  means,  appar¬ 
ently,  to  make  a  new  Gibraltar  of  it. 

But  lo,  in  the  Autumn  night,  late  night,  among  the  last  of 
August,  what  sudden  red  sun-blaze  is  this  that  has  risen  over 
Lyons  City ;  with  a  noise  to  deafen  the  world  ?  It  is  the 
Powder-tower  of  Lyons,  nay  the  Arsenal  with  four  Powder- 
towers,  which  has  caught  fire  in  the  Bombardment ;  and 
1  Deux  Amis,  xi.  147;  xiii.  160-192,  &c. 


334  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

*  1793  [Year  1. 

sprung  into  the  air,  carrying  “a  hundred  and  seventeen 
houses  ”  after  it.  With  a  light,  one  fancies,  as  of  the  noon 
sun ;  with  a  roar  second  only  to  the  Last  Trumpet !  All  liv¬ 
ing  sleepers  far  and  wide  it  has  awakened.  What  a  sight  was 
that,  which  the  eye  of  History  saw,  in  the  sudden  nocturnal 
sun-blaze !  The  roofs  of  hapless  Lyons,  and  all  its  domes 
and  steeples  made  momentarily  clear ;  Rhone  and  Sadne 
streams  flashing  suddenly  visible ;  and  height  and  hollow, 
hamlet  and  smooth  stubble-field,  and  all  the  region  round ;  — 
heights,  alas,  all  scarped  and  counterscarped,  into  trenches, 
curtains,  redoubts  ;  blue  Artillerymen,  little  Powder  devilkins, 
plying  their  hell-trade  there  through  the  not  ambrosial  night ! 
Let  the  darkness  cover  it  again ;  for  it  pains  the  eye.  Of  a 
truth,  Chalier’s  death  is  costing  the  City  dear.  Convention 
Commissioners,  Lyons  Congresses  have  come  and  gone ;  and 
action  there  was  and  reaction ;  bad  ever  growing  worse  ;  till 
it  has  come  to  this  ;  Commissioner  Dubois-Crance,  “  with  sev¬ 
enty  thousand  men,  and  all  the  Artillery  of  several  Provinces,” 
bombarding  Lyons  day  and  night. 

Worse  things  still  are  in  store.  Pamine  is  in  Lyons,  and 
ruin  and  fire.  Desperate  are  the  sallies  of  the  besieged ;  brave 
Precy,  their  National  Colonel  and  Commandant,  doing  what 
is  in  man :  desperate  but  ineffectual.  Provisions  cut  off ; 
nothing  entering  our  city  but  shot  and  shells  !  The  Arsenal 
has  roared  aloft ;  the  very  Plospital  will  be  battered  down, 
and  the  sick  buried  alive.  A  black  Flag  hung  on  this  latter 
noble  Edifice,  appealing  to  the  pity  of  the  besiegers ;  for 
though  maddened,  were  they  not  still  our  brethren  ?  In 
their  blind  wrath,  they  took  it  for  a  flag  of  defiance,  and 
aimed  thitherward  the  more.  Bad  is  growing  ever  worse 
here :  and  how  will  the  worse  stop,  till  it  have  grown  worst 
of  all  ?  Commissioner  Dubois  will  listen  to  no  pleading,  to 
no  speech,  save  this  only,  We  surrender  at  discretion.  Lyons 
contains  in  it  subdued  Jacobins;  dominant  Girondins ;  secret 
Royalists.  And  now,  mere  deaf  madness  and  cannon-shot  en¬ 
veloping  them,  will  not  the  desperate  Municipality  fly,  at  last, 
into  the  arms  of  Royalism  itself  ?  Majesty  of  Sardinia  was 
to  bring  help,  but  it  failed.  Emigrant  D’Autichamp,  in  name 


Chap.  V.  SWORD  OF  SHARPNESS.  335 

Fruct.]  Aug. 

of  the  Two  Pretender  Royal  Highnesses,  is  coming  through 
Switzerland  with  help ;  coming,  not  yet  come :  Precy  hoists 
the  Fleur-de-lys ! 

At  sight  of  which  all  true  Girondins  sorrowfully  fling  down 
their  arms  :  —  Let  our  Tricolor  brethren  storm  us,  then,  and 
slay  us  in  their  wrath ;  with  you  we  conquer  not.  The  famish¬ 
ing  women  and  children  are  sent  forth :  deaf  Dubois  sends  them 
back ;  —  rains  in  mere  fire  and  madness.  Our  “  redoubts  of 
cotton-bags  ”  are  taken,  retaken  ;  Precy  under  his  Fleur-de-lys 
is  valiant  as  Despair.  What  will  become  of  Lyons  ?  It  is 
a  siege  of  seventy  days.1 

Or  see,  in  these  same  weeks,  far  in  the  Western  waters  : 
breasting  through  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  a  greasy  dingy  little 
Merchant-ship,  with  Scotch  skipper ;  under  hatches  whereof 
sit,  disconsolate,  —  the  last  forlorn  nucleus  of  Girondism,  the 
Deputies  from  Quimper !  Several  have  dissipated  themselves, 
whithersoever  they  could.  Poor  Riouffe  fell  into  the  talons 
of  Revolutionary  Committee  and  Paris  Prison.  The  rest  sit 
here  under  hatches ;  reverend  Petion  with  his  gray  hair,  angry 
Buzot,  suspicious  Louvet,  brave  young  Barbaroux,  and  others. 
They  have  escaped  from  Quimper,  in  this  sad  craft ;  are  now 
tacking  and  struggling ;  in  danger  from  the  waves,  in  danger 
from  the  English,  in  still  worse  danger  from  the  French ;  — 
banished  by  Heaven  and  Earth  to  the  greasy  belly  of  this 
Scotch  skipper’s  Merchant-vessel,  unfruitful  Atlantic  raving 
round.  They  are  for  Bordeaux,  if  peradventure  hope  yet  lin¬ 
ger  there.  Enter  not  Bordeaux,  0  Friends  !  Bloody  Conven¬ 
tion  Representatives,  Tallien  and  such  like,  with  their  Edicts, 
with  their  Guillotine,  have  arrived  there  ;  Respectability  is 
driven  under  ground;  Jacobinism  lords  it  on  high.  From 
that  Reole  landing-place,  or  BeaJc  of  Ambes,  as  it  were,  pale 
Death,  waving  his  Revolutionary  Sword  of  Sharpness,  waves 
you  elsewhither  ! 

On  one  side  or  the  other  of  that  Bee  d’ Ambes,  the  Scotch 
Skipper  with  difficulty  moors,  a  dexterous  greasy  man ;  with 
difficulty  lands  his  Girondins  ;  —  who,  after  reconnoitring, 
must  rapidly  burrow  in  the  Earth ;  and  so,  in  subterranean 

1  Deux  Amis ,  xi.  80-14$ 


336 


4 


TERROR. 


Book  XVII. 
1793  [Year  1. 


ways,  in  friends’  back-closets,  in  cellars,  bam-lofts,  in  caves 
of  Saint-Emilion  and  Libourne,  stave  off  cruel  Death.1  Un- 
happiest  of  all  Senators  ! 


- • - 

CHAPTER,  VI. 

RISEN  AGAINST  TYRANTS. 

Against  all  which  incalculable  impediments,  horrors  and 
disasters,  what  can  a  Jacobin  Convention  oppose  ?  The 
uncalculating  Spirit  of  Jacobinism,  and  Sansculottic  sansfor- 
mulistic  Erenzy  !  Our  Enemies  press  in  on  us,  says  Danton, 
but  they  shall  not  conquer  us,  “  we  will  burn  France  to  ashes 
rather,  nous  brulerons  la  France .” 

Committees,  of  Surete,  of  Salut,  have  raised  themselves  “  a 
la  hauteur ,  to  the  height  of  circumstances.”  Let  all  mortals 
raise  themselves  a  la  hauteur.  Let  the  Forty-four  Thousand 
Sections  and  their  Revolutionary  Committees  stir  every  fibre 
of  the  Republic ;  and  every  Frenchman  feel  that  he  is  to 
do  or  die.  They  are  the  life-circulation  of  Jacobinism,  these 
Sections  and  Committees :  Danton,  through  the  organ  of  Bar- 
rere  and  Salut  Public ,  gets  decreed,  That  there  be  in  Paris, 
by  law,  two  meetings  of  Section  weekly ;  also  that  the  Poorer 
Citizen  be  paid  for  attending,  and  have  his  day’s-wages  of 
Forty  Sous.2  This  is  the  celebrated  “  Law  of  the  Forty 
Sous ;  ”  fiercely  stimulant  to  Sansculottism,  to  the  life-circu¬ 
lation  of  Jacobinism. 

On  the  twenty-third  of  August,  Committee  of  Public  Salva¬ 
tion,  as  usual  through  Barrere,  had  promulgated,  in  words  not 
unworthy  of  remembering,  their  Report,  which  is  soon  made 
into  a  Law,  of  Levy  in  Mass.  “  All  France,  and  whatsoever 
it  contains  of  men  or  resources,  is  put  under  requisition,”  says 
Barrbre ;  really  in  Tyrtaean  words,  the  best  we  know  of  his. 
“  The  Republic  is  one  vast  besieged  city.”  Two  hundred  and 

1  Louvet,  pp,  180-199. 

2  Moniteur,  Seance  du  5  Septembre,  1793. 


Chap.  VI.  RISEN  AGAINST  TYRANTS.  „  337 

Fruct.]  Aug. 

fifty  Forges  shall,  in  these  days,  be  set  up  in  the  Luxembourg 
Garden,  and  round  the  outer  wall  of  the  Tuileries  ;  to  make 
gun-barrels ;  in  sight  of  Earth  and  Heaven  !  From  all  ham¬ 
lets,  towards  their  Departmental  Town  j  from  all  Departmen¬ 
tal  Towns,  towards  the  appointed  Camp  and  seat  of  war,  the 
Sons  of  Freedom  shall  march ;  their  banner  is  to  bear  :  “  Le 
Peuple  Frangais  debout  contre  les  Tyrans ,  The  French  People 
risen  against  Tyrants.  The  young  men  shall  go  to  the  battle ; 
it  is  their  task  to  conquer :  the  married  men  shall  forge 
arms,  transport  baggage  and  artillery ;  provide  subsistence  : 
the  women  shall  work  at  soldiers’  clothes,  make  tents  ;  serve 
in  the  hospitals :  the  children  shall  scrape  old  linen  into  sur- 
geon’s-lint :  the  aged  men  shall  have  themselves  carried  into 
public  places ;  and  there,  by  their  words,  excite  the  courage 
of  the  young ;  preach  hatred  to  Kings  and  unity  to  the  Re¬ 
public.”  1  Tyrtsean  words ;  which  tingle  through  all  French 
hearts. 

In  this  humor,  then,  since  no  other  serves,  will  France  rush 
against  its  enemies.  Headlong,  reckoning  no  cost  or  conse¬ 
quence  ;  heeding  no  law  or  rule  but  that  supreme  law,  Salva¬ 
tion  of  the  People !  The  weapons  are,  all  the  iron  that  is  in 
France ;  the  strength  is,  that  of  all  the  men,  women  and  chil¬ 
dren  that  are  in  France.  There,  in  their  two  hundred  and 
fifty  shed-smithies,  in  Garden  of  Luxembourg  or  Tuileries,  let 
them  forge  gun-barrels,  in  sight  of  Heaven  and  Earth. 

Nor  with  heroic  daring  against  the  Foreign  foe,  can  black 
vengeance  against  the  Domestic  be  wanting.  Life-circulation 
of  the  Revolutionary  Committees  being  quickened  by  that 
Law  of  the  Forty  Sous,  Deputy  Merlin,  —  not  the  Thionviller, 
whom  we  saw  ride  out  of  Mentz,  but  Merlin  of  Douai,  named 
subsequently  Merlin  Suspect,  —  comes,  about  a  week  after, 
with  his  world-famous  Law  of  the  Suspect:  ordering  all  Sec¬ 
tions,  by  their  Committees,  instantly  to  arrest  all  Persons 
Suspect ;  and  explaining  withal  who  the  Arrestable  and  Sus¬ 
pect  specially  are.  “  Are  suspect,”  says  he,  “  all  who  by  their 
actions,  by  their  connections,  speakings,  writings  have  ”  —  in 

1  Debats,  Seance  du  23  Aout,  1793. 

22 


VOL.  IV. 


338  TERROR.  Book  XVIT. 

1793  [Year  1. 

short  become  Suspect.1  Nay  Chaumette,  illuminating  the 
matter  still  farther,  in  his  Municipal  Placards  and  Procla¬ 
mations,  will  bring  it  about  that  you  may  almost  recognize  a 
Suspect  on  the  streets,  and  clutch  him  there,  —  off  to  Com¬ 
mittee  and  Prison.  Watch  well  your  words,  watch  well  your 
looks  :  if  Suspect  of  nothing  else,  you  may  grow,  as  came  to 
be  a  saying,  “  Suspect  of  being  Suspect”  !  For  are  we  not  in 
a  State  of  Revolution  ? 

No  frightfuler  Law  ever  ruled  in  a  Nation  of  men.  All 
Prisons  and  Houses  of  Arrest  in  French  _  land  are  getting 
crowded  to  the  ridge-tile :  Forty-four  Thousand  Committees, 
like  as  many  companies  of  reapers  or  gleaners,  gleaning  France, 
are  gathering  their  harvest,  and  storing  it  in  these  Houses. 
Harvest  of  Aristocrat  tares !  Nay,  lest  the  Forty-four  Thou¬ 
sand,  each  on  its  own  harvest-field,  prove  insufficient,  we  are 
to  have  an  ambulant  “  Revolutionary  Army :  ”  six  thousand 
strong,  under  right  captains,  this  shall  perambulate  the  coun¬ 
try  at  large,  and  strike  in  wherever  it  finds  such  harvest-work 
slack.  So  have  Municipality  and  Mother  Society  petitioned ; 
so  has  Convention  decreed.2  Let  Aristocrats,  Federalists,  Mon- 
sieurs  vanish,  and  all  men  tremble  :  “the  Soil  of  Liberty  shall 
be  purged,”  —  with  a  vengeance 

Neither  hitherto  has  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  been  keep¬ 
ing  holiday.  Blanchelande,  for  losing  Saint-Domingo ;  “  Con¬ 
spirators  of  Orleans,”  for  “  assassinating,”  for  assaulting  the 
sacred  Deputy  Leonard-Bourdon :  these  with  many  Nameless, 
to  whom  life  was  sweet,  have  died.  Daily  the  great  Guillotine 
has  its  due.  Like  a  black  Spectre,  daily  at  eventide  glides  the 
Death-tumbril  through  the  variegated  throng  of  things.  The 
variegated  street  shudders  at  it,  for  the  moment ;  next  mo¬ 
ment  forgets  it :  The  Aristocrats  !  They  were  guilty  against 
the  Republic ;  their  death,  were  it  only  that  their  goods  are 
confiscated,  will  be  useful  to  the  Republic;  Vive  la  Repub - 
lique  ! 

In  the  last  days  of  August  fell  a  notabler  head :  General 
Custine’s.  Custine  was  accused  of  harshness,  of  unskilfulness, 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  17  Septembre,  1793. 

2  Ibid.,  Seances  du  5,9,  11  Septembre. 


Chap.  VI.  RISEN  AGAINST  TYRANTS.  339 

Fruct.J  Aug. 

perfidiousness ;  accused  of  many  tilings  :  found  guilty,  we 
may  say,  of  one  thing,  unsuccessfulness.  Hearing  his  unex¬ 
pected  Sentence,  “  Custine  fell  down  before  the  Crucifix,” 
silent  for  the  space  of  two  hours :  he  fared,  with  moist  eyes 
and  a  look  of  prayer,  towards  the  Place  de  la  Revolution ; 
glanced  upwards  at  the  clear  suspended  axe  :  then  mounted 
swiftly  aloft,1  swiftly  was  struck  away  from  the  lists  of  the 
Living.  He  had  fought  in  America ;  he  was  a  proud,  brave 
man;  and  his  fortune  led  him  hither . 

On  the  2d  of  this  same  month,  at  three  in  the  morning,  a 
vehicle  rolled  off,  with  closed  blinds,  from  the  Temple  to  the 
Conciergerie.  Within  it  were  two  Municipals  ;  and  Marie- 
Antoinette,  once  Queen  of  France  !  There  in  that  Conciergerie, 
in  ignominious  dreary  cell,  she,  secluded  from  children,  kin¬ 
dred,  friend  and  hope,  sits  long  weeks ;  expecting  when  the 
end  will  be.2 

The  Guillotine,  we  find,  gets  always  a  quicker  motion,  as 
other  things  are  quickening.  The  Guillotine,  by  its  speed  of 
going,  will  give  index  of  the  general  velocity  of  the  Republic. 
The  clanking  of  its  huge  axe,  rising  and  falling  there,  in  horrid 
systole-diastole,  is  portion  of  the  whole  enormous  Life-move¬ 
ment  and  pulsation  of  the  Sansculottic  System  !  —  u  Orleans 
Conspirators  ”  and  Assaulters  had  to  die,  in  spite  of  much 
weeping  and  entreating ;  so  sacred  is  the  person  of  a  Deputy. 
Yet  the  sacred  can  become  desecrated :  your  very  Deputy  is  not 
greater  than  the  Guillotine.  Poor  Deputy  Journalist  Gorsas : 
we  saw  him  hide  at  Rennes,  when  the  Calvados  War  burnt 
priming.  He  stole,  afterwards,  in  August,  to  Paris ;  lurked 
several  weeks  about  the  Palais  ci-devant  Royal ;  was  seen  there, 
one  day ;  was  clutched,  identified,  and  without  ceremony,  being 
already  “  out  of  the  Law,”  was  sent  to  the  Place  de  la  Revo- 
lution.  He  died,  recommending  his  wife  and  children  to  the 
pity  of  the  Republic.  It  is  the  ninth  day  of  October,  1793. 
Gorsas  is  the  first  Deputy  that  dies  on  the  scaffold ;  he  will 
not  be  the  last. 

1  Deux  Amis,  xi.  148-188. 

2  See  Me'moires  particuliers  de  la  Captivity  a  la  Tour  du  Temple  (by  th< 
Duchesse  d’Angouleme,  Paris,  21  Janvier,  1817). 


TERROR. 


340 


Book  XYII. 
1793  [Year  2. 


Ex-Mayor  Bailly  is  in  Prison  ;  Ex-Procurenr  Manuel.  Bris- 
sot  and  our  poor  Arrested  Girondins  have  become  Incarcerated 
Indicted  Girondins ;  universal  Jacobinism  clamoring  for  their 
punishment.  Huperret’s  Seals  are  broken!  Those  Seventy- 
three  Secret  Protesters,  suddenly  one  day,  are  reported  upon, 
are  decreed  accused ;  the  Convention-doors  being  “  previously 
shut,”  that  none  implicated  might  escape.  They  were  marched, 
in  a  very  rough  manner,  to  Prison  that  evening.  Happy  those 
of  them  who  chanced  to  be  absent !  Condorcet  has  vanished 
into  darkness ;  perhaps,  like  Rabaut,  sits  between  two  walls, 
in  the  house  of  a  friend. 


» 

CHAPTER  VII. 

MARIE— ANTOINETTE, 

On  Monday  the  Fourteenth  of  October,  1793,  a  Cause  is 
pending  in  the  Palais  de  Justice,  in  the  new  Revolutionary 
Court,  such  as  those  old  stone-walls  never  witnessed :  the  Trial 
of  Marie- Antoinette.  The  once  brightest  of  Queens,  now  tar¬ 
nished,  defaced,  forsaken,  stands  here  at  Eouquier-Tinville’s 
Judgment-bar ;  answering  for  her  life.  The  Indictment  was 
delivered  her  last  night.1  To  such  changes  of  human  fortune 
what  words  are  adequate  ?  Silence  alone  is  adequate.  ’ 

There  are  few  Printed  things  one  meets  with  of  such  tragic, 
almost  ghastly,  significance  as  those  bald  Pages  of  the  Bulletin 
du  Tribunal  Bevolutionnaire ,  which  bear  title,  Trial  of  the 
Widow  Capet.  Him,  dim,  as  if  in  disastrous  eclipse ;  like  the 
pale  kingdoms  of  His !  Plutonic  Judges,  Plutonic  Tinville ; 
encircled,  nine  times,  with  Styx  and  Lethe,  with  Eire-Phlege- 
thon  and  Cocytus  named  of  Lamentation  !  The  very  witnesses 
summoned  are  like  Ghosts :  exculpatory,  inculpatory,  they 
themselves  are  all  hovering  over  death  and  doom;  th$y  are 
known,  in  our  imagination,  as  the  prey  of  the  Guillotine.  Tall 
virdevant  Count  d’Estaing,  anxious  to  show  himself  Patriot, 
1  Proces  de  la  Peine  (Deux  Amis,  xi.  251-381). 


Chap.  VII.  MARIE-ANTOINETTE.  *  341 

Vend.  23]  Oct.  14. 

cannot  escape ;  nor  Bailly,  who,  when  asked  If  he  knows  the 
Accused,  answers  with  a  reverent  inclination  towards  her, 
“Ah,  yes,  I  know  Madame.”  Ex-Patriots  are  here,  sharply 
dealt  with,  as  Procureur  Manuel ;  Ex-Ministers,  shorn  of  their 
splendor.  We  have  cold  Aristocratic  impassivity,  faithful  to 
itself  even  in  Tartarus  ;  rabid  stupidity,  of  Patriot  Corporals, 
Patriot  Washerwomen,  who  have  much  to  say  of  Plots,  Trea¬ 
sons,  August  Tenth,  old  Insurrection  of  Women.  For  all  now 
has  become  a  crime  in  her  who  has  lost . 

Marie- Antoinette,  in  this  her  utter  abandonment,  and  hour 
of  extreme  need,  is  not  wanting  to  herself,  the  imperial 
woman.  Her  look,  they  say,  as  that  hideous  Indictment  was 
reading,  continued  calm ;  “  she  was  sometimes  observed  mov¬ 
ing  her  fingers,  as  when  one  plays  on  the  piano.”  You  discern, 
not  without  interest,  across  that  dim  Revolutionary  Bulletin 
itself,  how  she  bears  herself  queenlike.  Her  answers  are 
prompt,  clear,  often  of  Laconic  brevity ;  resolution,  which 
has  grown  contemptuous  without  ceasing  to  be  dignified,  veils 
itself  in  calm  words.  “You  persist,  then,  in  denial?”  — 
“  My  plan  is  not  denial :  it  is  the  truth  I  have  said,  and  I 
persist  in  that.”  Scandalous  Hebert  has  borne  his  testimony 
as  to  many  things :  as  to  one  thing,  concerning  Marie-Antoi- 
nette  and  her  little  Son,  —  wherewith  Human  Speech  had 
better  not  farther  be  soiled.  She  has  answered  Hebert;  a 
Juryman  begs  to  observe  that  she  has  not  answered  as  to  this. 
“  I  have  not  answered,”  she  exclaims  with  noble  emotion, 
“  because  Nature  refuses  to  answer  such  a  charge  brought 
against  a  Mother.  I  appeal  to  all  the  Mothers  that  are  here.” 
Robespierre,  when  he  heard  of  it,  broke  out  into  something 
almost  like  swearing  at  the  brutish  blockheadism  of  this 
Hebert ; 1  on  whose  foul  head  his  foul  lie  has  recoiled.  At 
four  o’clock  on  Wednesday  morning,  after  two  days  and  two 
nights  of  interrogating,  jury-charging,  and  other  darkening 
of  counsel,  the  result  comes  out :  sentence  of  Death.  “  Have 
you  anything  to  say  ?  ”  The  Accused  shook  her  head,  with¬ 
out  speech.  Night’s  candles  are  burning  out ;  and  with  her 
too  Time  is  finishing,  and  it  will  be  Eternity  and  Day.  This 
1  Villate,  Causes  secretes  de  la  Revolution  de  Thermidor  (Paris,  1825),  p.  179. 


342  TERROR.  Book  XYII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

Hall  of  Tinville’s  is  dark,  ill-lighted  except  where  she  stands. 
Silently  she  withdraws  from  it,  to  die. 

Two  Processions,  or  Royal  Progresses,  three-and-twenty 
years  apart,  have  often  struck  us  with  a  strange  feeling  of 
contrast.  The  first  is  of  a  beautiful  Archduchess  and  Dau- 
phiness,  quitting  her  Mother’s  City,  at  the  age  of  Fifteen; 
towards  hopes  such  as  no  other  Daughter  of  Eye  then  had: 
“On  the  morrow,”  says  Weber  an  eye-witness,  “the  Dauphi- 
ness  left  Vienna.  The  whole  city  crowded  out ;  at  first  with 
a  sorrow  which  was  silent.  She  appeared :  you  saw  her  sunk 
back  into  her  carriage ;  her  face  bathed  in  tears ;  hiding  her 
eyes  now  with  her  handkerchief,  now  with  her  hands  ;  several 
times  putting  out  her  head  to  see  yet  again  this  Palace  of  her 
Fathers,  whither  she  was  to  return  no  more.  She  motioned 
her  regret,  her  gratitude  to  the  good  Nation,  which  was 
crowding  here  to  bid  her  farewell.  Then  arose  not  only 
tears  ;  but  piercing  cries,  on  all  sides.  Men  and  women  alike 
abandoned  themselves  to  such  expression  of  their  sorrow.  It 
was  an  audible  sound  of  wail,  in  the  streets  and  avenues  of 
Vienna.  The  last  Courier  that  followed  her  disappeared,  and 
the  crowd  melted  away.”  1 

The  young  imperial  Maiden  of  Fifteen  has  now  become  a 
worn  discrowned  Widow  of  Thirty-eight;  gray  before  her 
time:  this  is  the  last  Procession:  “Few  minutes  after  the 
Trial  ended,  the  drums  were  beating  to  arms  in  all  Sections  ; 
at  sunrise  the  armed  force  was  on  foot,  cannons  getting  placed 
at  the  extremities  of  the  Bridges,  in  the  Squares,  Crossways, 
all  along  from  the  Palais  de  Justice  to  the  Place  de  la  Re¬ 
volution.  By  ten  o’clock,  numerous  patrols  were  circulating 
in  the  Streets;  thirty  thousand  foot  and  horse  drawn  up 
under  arms.  At  eleven,  Marie-Antoinette  was  brought  out. 
She  had  on  an  undress  of  pique  blanc :  she  was  led  to  the 
place  of  execution,  in  the  same  manner  as  an  ordinary  crimi¬ 
nal  ;  bound,  on  a  Cart ;  accompanied  by  a  Constitutional 
Priest  in  Lay  dress  ;  escorted  by  numerous  detachments  of 
infantry  and  cavalry.  These,  and  the  double  row  of  troops 
all  along  her  road,  she  appeared  to  regard  with  indifference. 

1  Weber,  i.  6. 


343 


Chap.  VIII.  THE  TWENTY-TWO. 

Brum.]  Oct 

On  her  countenance  there  was  visible  neither  abashment  nor 
pride.  To  the  cries  of  Vive  la  Republique  and  Down  with 
Tyranny ,  which  attended  her  all  the  way,  she  seemed  to  pay 
no  heed.  She  spoke  little  to  her  Confessor.  The  tricolor 
Streamers  on  the  house-tops  occupied  her  attention,  in  the 
Streets  du  Houle  and  Saint-Honore ;  she  also  noticed  the 
Inscriptions  on  the  house-fronts.  On  reaching  the  Place  de 
la  Revolution,  her  looks  turned  towards  the  Jardin  National , 
whilom  Tuileries;  her  face  at  that  moment  gave  signs  of 
lively  emotion.  She  mounted  the  Scaffold  with  courage 
enough ;  at  a  quarter  past  Twelve,  her  head  fell ;  the  Execu¬ 
tioner  showed  it  to  the  people,  amid  universal  long-continued 
cries  of  Vive  la  Republique.1 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  TWENTY-TWO. 

Whom  next,  0  Tinville  !  The  next  are  of  a  different  color : 
our  poor  Arrested  Girondin  Deputies.  What  of  them  could 
still  be  laid  hold  of ;  our  Vergniaud,  Brissot,  Eauchet,  Valaz^, 
Gensonne :  the  once  flower  of  French  Patriotism,  Twenty- 
two  by  the  tale:  hither ,  at  Tinville’s  Bar,  onward  from 
“  safeguard  of  the  French  People,”  from  confinement  in  the 
Luxembourg,  imprisonment  in  the  Conciergerie,  have  they 
now,  by  the  course  of  things,  arrived.  Fouquier-Tinville  must 
give  what  account  of  them  he  can. 

Undoubtedly  this  Trial  of  the  Girondins  is  the  greatest 
that  Fouquier  has  yet  had  to  do.  Twenty-two,  all  chief 
Republicans,  ranged  in  a  line  there ;  the  most  eloquent  in 
France  ;  Lawyers  too ;  not  without  friends  in  the  auditory. 
How  will  Tinville  prove  these  men  guilty  of  Royalism,  Fed¬ 
eralism,  Conspiracy  against  the  Republic  ?  Vergniaud’s  elo¬ 
quence  awakes  once  more;  “draws  tears,”  they  say.  And 
Journalists  report,  and  the  Trial  lengthens  itself  out  day 

1  Deux  Amis.  xi.  301. 


344  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

after  day ;  “  threatens  to  become  eternal/’  murmur  many. 
Jacobinism  and  Municipality  rise  to  the  aid  of  Fouquier. 
On  the  28th  of  the  month,  Hebert  and  others  come  in  depu¬ 
tation  to  inform  a  Patriot  Convention  that  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal  is  quite  u  shackled  by  Forms  of  Law ;  ”  that  a  Patriot 
Jury  ought  to  have  u  the  power  of  cutting  short,  of  terminer 
les  debats,  when  they  feel  themselves  convinced.”  Which 
pregnant  suggestion,  of  cutting  short,  passes  itself,  with  all 
despatch,  into  a  Decree. 

Accordingly,  at  ten  o’clock  on  the  night  of  the  30th  of 
October,  the  Twenty-two,  summoned  back  once  more,  receive 
this  information,  That  the  Jury  feeling  themselves  convinced 
have  cut  short,  have  brought  in  their  verdict ;  that  the  Accused 
are  found  guilty,  and  the  Sentence  on  one  and  all  of  them  is, 
Death  with  confiscation  of  goods. 

Loud  natural  clamor  rises  among  the  poor  Girondins  ; 
tumult  ;  which  can  only  be  repressed  by  the  gendarmes. 
Yalaze  stabs  himself  ;  falls  down  dead  on  the  spot.  The  rest, 
amid  loud  clamor  and  confusion,  are  driven  back  to  their 
Conciergerie ;  Lasource  exclaiming,  “  I  die  on  the  day  when 
the  People  have  lost  their  reason  ;  ye  will  die  when  they 
recover  it.” 1  Ho  help  !  Yielding  to  violence,  the  Doomed 
uplift  the  Hymn  of  the  Marseillese ;  return  singing  to  their 
dungeon. 

Riouffe,  who  was  their  Prison-mate  in  these  last  days,  has 
lovingly  recorded  what  death  they  made.  To  our  notions,  it 
is  not  an  edifying  death.  Gay  satirical  Pot-pourri  by  Ducos  ; 
rhymed  Scenes  of  Tragedy,  wherein  Barrere  and  Robespierre 
discourse  with  Satan  ;  death’s  eve  spent  in  “  singing  ”  and 
“  sallies  of  gayety,”  with  “  discourses  on  the  happiness  of 
peoples  :  ”  these  things,  and  the  like  of  these,  we  have  to 
accept  for  what  they  are  worth.  It  is  the  manner  in  which 
the  Girondins  make  their  Last  Supper.  Yalaze,  with  bloody 
breast,  sleeps  cold  in  death  ;  hears  not  the  singing.  Yergniaud 
has  his  dose  of  poison ;  but  it  is  not  enough  for  his  friends,  it 
is  enough  only  for  himself  ;  wherefore  he  flings  it  from  him  ; 

1  At) /xoad evovs  (hrSvros,  ’ATroKrevovcri  <re  ’Adrjvaioi,  •  *Av  /xavwcriv, 

e?ire,  tre  5’,  iav  crw(f>povw<Ti. — Plut.  Opp.  t.  iv.  p.  310,  ed.  Reiske,  1776. 


Chap.  VIII.  THE  TWENTY-TWO.  345 

Brum.  9]  Oct.  30. 

presides  at  this  Last  Supper  of  the  Girondins,  with  wild  corus¬ 
cations  of  eloquence,  with  song  and  mirth.  Poor  human  Will 
struggles  to  assert  itself ;  if  not  in  this  way,  then  in  that.1 

But  on  the  morrow  morning  all  Paris  is  out ;  such  a  crowd 
as  no  man  had  seen.  The  Death-carts,  Valaze’s  cold  corpse 
stretched  among  the  yet  living  Twenty-one,  roll  along.  Bare¬ 
headed,  hands  bound  ;  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  coat  flung  loosely 
round  the  neck :  so  fare  the  eloquent  of  France ;  bemurmured, 
beshouted.  To  the  shouts  of  Vive  la  Iiepublique ,  some  of  them 
keep  answering  with  counter-shouts  of  Vive  la  Iiepublique. 
Others,  as  Brissot,  sit  sunk  in  silence.  At  the  foot  of  the 
scaffold  they  again  strike  up,  with  appropriate  variations,  the 
Hymn  of  the  Marseillese.  Such  an  act  of  music ;  conceive  it 
well.  The  yet  Living  chant  there  ;  the  chorus  so  rapidly 
wearing  weak  !  Samson’s  axe  is  rapid ;  one  head  per  minute, 
or  little  less.  The  chorus  is  wearing  weak  ;  the  chorus  is 
worn  out ;  —  farewell  forevermore,  ye  Girondins.  Te-Deum 
Fauchet  has  become  silent  ;  Valaze’s  dead  head  is  lopped  : 
the  sickle  of  the  Guillotine  has  reaped  the  Girondins  all 
away.  “  The  eloquent,  the  young,  the  beautiful  and  brave  !  ” 
exclaims  Biouffe.  0  Death,  what  feast  is  toward  in  thy 
ghastly  Halls  ! 

Nor,  alas,  in  the  far  Bordeaux  region  will  Girondism  fare 
better.  In  caves  of  Saint-Emilion,  in  loft  and  cellar,  the 
weariest  months  roll  on  ;  apparel  worn,  purse  empty  ;  wintry 
November  come ;  under  Tallien  and  his  Guillotine,  all  hope 
now  gone.  Danger  drawing  ever  nigher,  difficulty  pressing 
ever  straiter,  they  determine  to  separate.  Not  unpathetic  the 
farewell  ;  tall  Barbaroux,  cheeriest  of  brave  men,  stoops  to 
clasp  his  Louvet  :  “  In  what  place  soever  thou  findest  my 
Mother,”  cries  he,  “  try  to  be  instead  of  a  son  to  her :  no  re¬ 
source  of  mine  but  I  will  share  with  thy  Wife,  should  chance 
ever  lead  me  where  she  is  ”  2 

Louvet  went  with  Guadet,  with  Salles  and  Yaladi ;  Barba¬ 
roux  with  Buzot  and  Petion.  Valadi  soon  went  southward,  on 
a  way  of  his  own.  The  two  friends  and  Louvet  had  a  miser* 

1  Me  moires  de  Riouffe  (in  Memoires  sur  les  Prisons,  Paris,  1823),  pp.  48-55. 

2  Louvet,  p.  213. 


346  TERROR.  Book  XVII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

able  day  and  night;  the  14th  of  the  November  month,  1793. 
Sunk  in  wet,  weariness  and  hunger,  they  knock,  on  the  mor¬ 
row,  for  help,  at  a  friend’s  country-house  ;  the  faint-hearted 
friend  refuses  to  admit  them.  They  stood  therefore  under 
trees,  in  the  pouring  rain.  Plying  desperate,  Louvet  there¬ 
upon  will  to  Paris.  He  sets  forth,  there  and  then,  splashing 
the  mud  on  each  side  of  him,  with  a  fresh  strength  gathered 
from  fury  or  frenzy.  He  passes  villages,  finding  “  the  sentry 
asleep  in  his  box  in  the  thick  rain ;  ”  he  is  gone,  before  the 
man  can  call  after  him.  He  bilks  Revolutionary  Committees  ; 
rides  in  carriers’  carts,  covered  carts  and  open ;  lies  hidden  in 
one,  under  knapsacks  and  cloaks  of  soldiers’  wives  on  the 
street  of  Orleans,  while  men  search  for  him ;  has  hair-breadth 
escapes  that  would  fill  three  romances  :  finally  he  gets  to 
Paris  to  his  fair  Helpmate ;  gets  to  Switzerland,  and  waits 
better  days. 

Poor  Guadet  and  Salles  were  both  taken,  ere  long;  they 
died  by  the  Guillotine  in  Bordeaux;  drums  beating  to  drown 
their  voice.  ^Valadi  also  is  caught,  and  guillotined.  Bar- 
baroux  and  his  two  comrades  weathered  it  longer,  into  the 
summer  of  1794 ;  but  not  long  enough.  One  July  morning, 
changing  their  hiding-place,  as  they  have  often  to  do,  “  about 
a  league  from  Saint-Emilion,  they  observe  a  great  crowd  of 
country-people  :  ”  doubtless  Jacobins  come  to  take  them  ? 
Barbaroux  draws  a  pistol,  shoots  himself  dead.  Alas,  and  it 
was  not  Jacobins  ;  it  was  harmless  villagers  going  to  a  village 
wake.  Two  days  afterwards,  Buzot  and  Petion  were  found  in 
a  Cornfield,  their  bodies  half-eaten  by  dogs.1 

Such  was  the  end  of  Girondism.  They  arose  to  regenerate 
Prance,  these  men ;  and  have  accomplished  this.  Alas,  what¬ 
ever  quarrel  we  had  with  them,  has  not  their  cruel  fate 
abolished  it  ?  Pity  only  survives.  So  many  excellent  souls 
of  heroes  sent  down  to  Hades  ;  they  themselves  given  as  a 
prey  of  dogs  and  all  manner  of  birds  !  But,  here  too,  the 
will  of  the  Supreme  Power  was  accomplished.  As  Vergniaud 
said  :  “  the  Revolution,  like  Saturn,  is  devouring  its  own 
children.” 

1  Recherches  Historiques  sur  les  Girondins  (in  Mgmoires  de  Buzot),  p.  107. 


BOOK  XVIII. 


TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAT. 

- 0 - 

CHAPTER  I. 

RUSHING  DOWN. 

We  are  now,  therefore,  got  to  that  black  precipitous  Abyss ; 
whither  all  things  have  long  been  tending ;  where,  having 
now  arrived  on  the  giddy  verge,  they  hurl  down,  in  confused 
ruin  ;  headlong,  pell-mell,  down,  down  ;  —  till  Sansculottism 
have  consummated  itself ;  and  in  this  wondrous  French  Ee vo¬ 
lution,  as  in  a  Doomsday,  a  World  have  been  rapidly,  if  not 
born  again,  yet  destroyed  and  engulfed.  Terror  has  long 
been  terrible :  but  to  the  actors  themselves  it  has  now  be¬ 
come  manifest  that  their  appointed  course  is  one  of  Terror ; 
and  they  say,  Be  it  so.  u  Que  la  Terreur  soit  a  Vordre  du 
jour.” 

So  many  centuries,  say  only  from  Hugh  Capet  down¬ 
wards,  had  been  adding  together,  century  transmitting  it 
with  increase  to  century,  the  sum  of  Wickedness,  of  False¬ 
hood,  Oppression  of  man  by  man.  Kings  were  sinners,  and 
Priests  were,  and  People.  Open  Scoundrels  rode  triumphant, 
bediademed,  becoroneted,  bemitred ;  or  the  still  fataler 
species  of  Secret-Scoundrels,  in  their  fair-sounding  formulas, 
speciosities,  respectabilities,  hollow  within :  the  race  of  Quacks 
was  grown  many  as  the  sands  of  the  sea.  Till  at  length 
such  a  sum  of  Quackery  had  accumulated  itself  as,  in  brief, 
the  Earth  and  the  Heavens  were  weary  of.  Slow  seemed  the 
Day  of  Settlement ;  coming  on,  all  imperceptible,  across 
the  bluster  and  fanfaronade  of  Courtierisms,  Conquering- 


348  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XYIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

Heroisms,  Most  Christian  Grand  Monarque- isms,  Well-beloved 
Pompadourisms :  yet  behold  it  was  always  coming ;  behold 
it  has  come,  suddenly,  unlooked  for  by  any  man !  The  har¬ 
vest  of  long  centuries  was  ripening  and  whitening  so  rapidly 
of  late ;  and  now  it  is  grown  white ,  and  is  reaped  rapidly, 
as  it  were,  in  one  day.  Reaped,  in  this  Reign  of  Terror; 
and  carried  home,  to  Hades  and  the  Pit!  —  Unhappy  Sons  of 
Adam :  it  is  ever  so ;  and  never  do  they  know  it,  nor  will 
they  know  it.  With  cheerfully  smoothed  countenances,  day 
after  day,  and  generation  after  generation,  they,  calling  cheer¬ 
fully  to  one  another,  Well-speed-ye,  are  at  work,  sowing  the 
wind.  And  yet,  as  God  lives,  they  shall  reap  the  whirlwind : 
no  other  thing,  we  say,  is  possible,  —  since  God  is  a  Truth, 
and  His  World  is  a  Truth. 

History,  however,  in  dealing  with  this  Reign  of  Terror, 
has  had  her  own  difficulties.  While  the  Phenomenon  con¬ 
tinued  in  its  primary  state,  as  mere  u  Horrors  of  the  French 
Revolution,”  there  was  abundance  to  be  said  and  shrieked. 
With  and  also  without  profit.  Heaven  knows,  there  were 
terrors  and  horrors  enough :  yet  that  was  not  all  the  Phe¬ 
nomenon  ;  nay,  more  properly,  that  was  not  the  Phenomenon 
at  all,  but  rather  was  the  shadow  of  it,  the  negative  part  of 
it.  And  now,  in  a  new  stage  of  the  business,  when  History, 
ceasing  to  shriek,  would  try  rather  to  include  under  her  old 
Forms  of  speech  or  speculation  this  new  amazing  Thing; 
that  so  some  accredited  scientific  Law  of  Nature  might  suf¬ 
fice  for  the  unexpected  Product  of  Nature,  and  History  might 
get  to  speak  of  it  articulately,  and  draw  inferences  and  profit 
from  it ;  in  this  new  stage,  History,  we  must  say,  babbles 
and  flounders  perhaps  in  a  still  painfuler  manner.  Take,  for 
example,  the  latest  Form  of  speech  we  have  seen  propounded 
on  the  subject  as  adequate  to  it,  almost  in  these  months,  by 
our  worthy  M.  Roux,  in  his  Histoire  Parlenientaire.  The 
latest  and  the  strangest :  that  the  French  Revolution  was  a 
deaddift  effort,  after  eighteen  hundred  years  of  preparation, 
to  realize  —  the  Christian  Religion  ! 1  Unity ,  Indivisibility , 

1  Hist.  Pari.  (Introd.),  i.  1  et  seqq. 


349 


gHAP.  I-  no  RUSHING  DOWN. 

Year  2]  1793. 

Brotherhood  or  Death ,  did  indeed  stand  printed  on  all  Houses 
of  the  Living;  also  on  Cemeteries,  or  Houses  of  the  Dead, 
stood  printed,  by  order  of  Procureur  Chaumette,  Here  is  Eternal 
Sleep : 1  but  a  Christian  Religion  realized  by  the  Guillotine 
and  Death-Eternal  “is  suspect  to  me/’  as  Robespierre  was 
wont  to  say,  “  m’est  suspected 

Alas,  no,  M.  Roux !  A  Gospel  of  Brotherhood,  not  accord¬ 
ing  to  any  of  the  Pour  old  Evangelists,  and  calling  on  men  to 
repent,  and  amend  each  his  own  wicked  existence,  that  they 
might  be  saved ;  but  a  Gospel  rather,  as  we  often  hint,  accord¬ 
ing  to  a  new  Fifth  Evangelist  Jean- Jacques,  calling  on  men 
to  amend  each  the  whole  world’s  wicked  existence,  and  be 
saved  by  making  the  Constitution.  A  thing  different  and 
distant  toto  coelo ,  as  they  say :  the  whole  breadth  of  the  sky, 
and  farther  if  possible !  —  It  is  thus,  however,  that  History, 
and  indeed  all  human  Speech  and  Reason  does  yet,  what 
Father  Adam  began  life  by  doing:  strive  to  name  the  new 
Things  it  sees  of  Nature’s  producing,  —  often  helplessly 
enough. 

But  what  if  History  were  to  admit,  for  once,  that  all  the 
Names  and  Theorems  yet  known  to  her  fall  short  ?  That 
this  grand  Product  of  Nature  was  even  grand,  and  new,  in 
that  it  came  not  to  range  itself  under  old  recorded  Laws  of 
Nature  at  all,  but  to  disclose  new  ones  ?  In  that  case,  His¬ 
tory,  renouncing  the  pretension  to  name  it  at  present,  will 
look  honestly  at  it,  and  name  what  she  can  of  it !  Any  ap¬ 
proximation  to  the  right  Name  has  value  :  were  the  right 
Name  itself  once  here,  the  Thing  is  known  henceforth;  the 
Thing  is  then  ours,  and  can  be  dealt  with. 

Now  surely  not  realization,  of  Christianity  or  of  aught 
earthly,  do  we  discern  in  this  Reign  of  Terror,  in  this  French 
Revolution  of  which  it  is  the  consummating.  Destruction 
rather  we  discern,  —  of  all  that  was  destructible.  It  is  as  if 
Twenty-five  Millions,  risen  at  length  into  the  Pythian  mood, 
had  stood  up  simultaneously  to  say,  with  a  sound  which  goes 
through  far  lands  and  times,  that  this  Untruth  of  an  Ex¬ 
istence  had  become  insupportable.  0  ye  Hypocrisies  and 

1  Deux  Amis,  xii.  78. 


350  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XYIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

Speciosities,  Royal  mantles,  Cardinal  plush-cloaks,  ye  Credos, 
Formulas,  Respectabilities,  fair-painted  Sepulchres  full  of  dead 
men’s  bones,  —  behold,  ye  appear  to  us  to  be  altogether  a 
Lie.  Yet  our  Life  is  not  a  Lie;  yet  our  Hunger  and  Misery 
is  not  a  Lie !  Behold  we  lift  up,  one  and  all,  our  Twenty- 
five  Million  right-hands ;  and  take  the  Heavens,  and  the 
Earth  and  also  the  Pit  of  Tophet  to  witness,  that  either  ye 
shall  be  abolished,  or  else  we  shall  be  abolished ! 

Ho  inconsiderable  Oath,  truly ;  forming,  as  has  been  often 
said,  the  most  remarkable  transaction  in  these  last  thousand 
years.  Wherefrom  likewise  there  follow,  and  will  follow, 
results.  The  fulfilment  of  this  Oath;  that  is  to  say,  the  black 
desperate  battle  of  Men  against  their  whole  Condition  and 
Environment,  —  a  battle,  alas,  withal,  against  the  Sin  and 
Darkness  that  was  in  themselves  as  in  others :  this  is  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  Transcendental  despair  was  the  purport 
of  it,  though  not  consciously  so.  False  hopes,  of  Fraternity, 
Political  Millennium,  and  what  not,  we  have  always  seen :  but 
the  unseen  heart  of  the  whole,  the  transcendental  despair, 
was  not  false ;  neither  has  it  been  of  no  effect.  Despair, 
pushed  far  enough,  completes  the  circle,  so  to  speak;  and 
becomes  a  kind  of  genuine  productive  hope  again. 

Doctrine  of  Fraternity,  out  of  old  Catholicism,  does,  it  is 
true,  very  strangely  in  the  vehicle  of  a  Jean- Jacques  Evangel, 
suddenly  plump  down  out  of  its  cloud-firmament;  and  from 
a  theorem  determine  to  make  itself  a  practice.  But  just  so 
do  all  creeds,  intentions,  customs,  knowledges,  thoughts  and 
things,  which  the  French  have,  suddenly  plump  down ;  Catholi¬ 
cism,  Classicism,  Sentimentalism,  Cannibalism :  all  isms  that 
make  up  Man  in  France  are  rushing  and  roaring  in  that  gulf ; 
and  the  theorem  has  become  a  practice,  and  whatsoever  cannot 
swim  sinks.  Hot  Evangelist  Jean-Jacques  alone;  there  is  not 
a  Village  Schoolmaster  but  has  contributed  his  quota :  do  we 
not  thou  one  another,  according  to  the  Free  Peoples  of  An¬ 
tiquity  ?  The  French  Patriot,  in  red  Phrygian  nightcap  of 
Liberty,  christens  his  poor  little  red  infant  Cato ;  —  Censor,  or 
else  of  Utica.  Gracchus  has  become  Baboeuf,  and  edits  news¬ 
papers  ;  Mutius  Scaevola,  Cordwainer  of  that  ilk,  presides  in 


351 


Chap.  I.  RUSHING  DOWN. 

Year  2]  1793. 

the  Section  Mutius-Scsevola :  and  in-  brief,  there  is  a  world 
wholly  jumbling  itself,  to  try  what  will  swim. 

Wherefore  we  will,  at  all  events,  call  this  Reign  of  Terror  a 
very  strange  one.  Dominant  Sansculottism  makes,  as  it  were, 
free  arena;  one  of  the  strangest  temporary  states  Humanity 
was  ever  seen  in.  A  nation  of  men,  full  of  wants  and  void  of 
habits !  The  old  habits  are  gone  to  wreck  because  they  were 
old :  men,  driven  forward  by  Necessity  and  fierce  Pythian 
Madness,  have,  on  the  spur  of  the  instant,  to  devise  for  the 
want  the  way  of  satisfying  it.  The  Wonted  tumbles  down ;  by 
imitation,  by  invention,  the  Unwonted  hastily  builds  itself  up. 
What  the  French  National  head  has  in  it  comes  out :  if  not  a 
great  result,  surely  one  of  the  strangest. 

Neither  shall  the  Reader  fancy  that  it  was  all  black,  this 
Reign  of  Terror  :  far  from  it.  How  many  hammermen  and 
squaremen,  bakers  and  brewers,  washers  and  wringers,  over 
this  France,  must  ply  their  old  daily  work,  let  the  Government 
be  one  of  Terror  or  one  of  Joy !  In  this  Paris  there  are 
twenty-three  Theatres  nightly  ;  some  count  as  many  as  Sixty 
Places  of  Dancing.1  The  Playwright  manufactures, — pieces 
of  a  strictly  Republican  character.  Ever  fresh  Novel-garbage, 
as  of  old,  fodders  the  Circulating  Libraries.2  The  “  Cesspool 
of  Agio  ”  now  in  a  time  of  Paper  Money,  works  with  a  vivacity 
unexampled,  unimagined ;  exhales  from  itself  “  sudden  for¬ 
tunes/7  like  Aladdin-Palaces  :  really  a  kind  of  miraculous 
Fata-Morganas,  since  you  can  live  in  them,  for  a  time.  Terror 
is  as  a  sable  ground,  on  which  the  most  variegated  of  scenes 
paints  itself.  In  startling  transitions,  in  colors  all  intensated, 
the  sublime,  the  ludicrous,  the  horrible  succeed  one  another ; 
or  rather,  in  crowding  tumult,  accompany  one  another. 

Here,  accordingly,  if  anywhere,  the  “  hundred  tongues/7 
which  the  old  Poets  often  clamor  for,  were  of  supreme  service  ! 
In  defect  of  any  such  organ  on  our  part,  let  the  Reader  stir 
up  his  own  imaginative  organ :  let  us  snatch  for  him  this  or 
the  other  significant  glimpse  of  things,  in  the  fittest  sequence 
we  can. 


1  Mercier,  ii.  124. 


2  Moniteur  of  these  months,  passim. 


352 


TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DEATH. 

In  the  early  days  of  November  there  is  one  transient  glimpse 
of  things  that  is  to  be  noted  :  the  last  transit  to  his  long  home 
of  Philippe  d’Orleans  Egalite.  Philippe  was  “  decreed  ac¬ 
cused/’  along  with  the  Girondins,  much  to  his  and  their  sur¬ 
prise  ;  but  not  tried  along  with  them.  They  are  doomed  and 
dead,  some  three  days,  when  Philippe,  after  his  long  half-year 
of  durance  at  Marseilles,  arrives  in  Paris.  It  is,  as  we  calcu¬ 
late,  the  third  of  November,  1793. 

On  which  same  day,  two  notable  Female  Prisoners  are  also 
put  in  ward  there  :  Dame  Dubarry  and  Josephine  Beauharnais. 
Dame  whilom  Countess  Dubarry,  unfortunate  female,  had  re¬ 
turned  from  London ;  they  snatched  her,  not  only  as  Ex-harlot 
of  a  whilom  Majesty,  and  therefore  suspect ;  but  as  having 
“  furnished  the  Emigrants  with  money.”  Contemporaneously 
with  whom  there  comes  the  wife  Beauharnais,  soon  to  be  the 
widow  :  she  that  is  Josephine  Tascher  Beauharnais  ;  that  shall 
be  Josephine  Empress  Buonaparte,  —  for  a  black  Divineress  of 
the  Tropics  prophesied  long  since  that  she  should  be  a  Queen 
and  more.  Likewise,  in  the  same  hours,  poor  Adam  Lux,  nigh 
turned  in  the  head,  who,  according  to  Forster,  “  has  taken  no 
food  these  three  weeks,”  marches  to  the  Guillotine  for  his 
Pamphlet  on  Charlotte  Corday  :  he  “  sprang  to  the  scaffold  ;  ” 
said  “  he  died  for  her  with  great  joy.”  Amid  such  fellow- 
travellers  does  Philippe  arrive.  For,  be  the  month  named 
Brumaire,  year  2  of  Liberty,  or  November,  year  1793  of  Slavery, 
the  Guillotine  goes  always,  Guillotine  va  toujours. 

Enough,  Philippe’s  indictment  is  soon  drawn,  his  jury  soon 
convinced.  He  finds  himself  made  guilty  of  Royalism,  Con¬ 
spiracy  and  much  else  ;  nay,  it  is  a  guilt  in  him  that  he  voted 
Louis’s  Death,  though  he  answers,  “  I  voted  in  my  soul  and 


DEATH. 


353 


Chap.  II. 

Brum.  16]  Nov.  6. 

conscience.”  The  doom  he  finds  is  death  forthwith;  this 
present  6th  dini  day  of  November  is  the  last  day  that  Philippe 
is  to  see.  Philippe,  says  Montgaillard,  thereupon  called  for 
breakfast :  sufficiency  of  “  oysters,  two  cutlets,  best  part  of  an 
excellent  bottle  of  claret ;  ”  and  consumed  the  same  with  ap¬ 
parent  relish.  A  Revolutionary  Judge,  or  some  official  Con¬ 
vention  Emissary,  then  arrived,  to  signify  that  he  might  still 
do  the  State  some  service  by  revealing  the  truth  about  a  plot 
or  two.  Philippe  answered  that,  on  him,  in  the  pass  things 
had  come  to,  the  State  had,  he  thought,  small  claim;  that 
nevertheless,  in  the  interest  of  Liberty,  he,  having  still  some 
leisure  on  his  hands,  was  willing,  were  a  reasonable  question 
asked  him,  to  give  a  reasonable  answer.  And  so,  says*  Mont¬ 
gaillard,  he  leant  his  elbow  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  conversed 
in  an  undertone,  with  great  seeming  composure,;  till  the  leisure 
was  done,  or  the  Emissary  went  his  ways. 

At  the  door  of  the  Conciergerie,  Philippe’s  attitude  was  erect 
and  easy,  almost  commanding.  It  is  five  years,  all  but  a  few 
days,  since  Philippe,  within  these  same  stone  walls,  stood  up 
with  an  air  of  graciosity,  and  asked  King  Louis,  “  Whether  it 
was  a  Eoyal  Session,  then,  or  a  Bed  of  Justice  ?  ”  0  Heaven ! 
—  Three  poor  blackguards  were  to  ride  and  die  with  him :  some 
say,  they  objected  to  such  company,  and  had  to  be  flung  in, 
neck  and  heels  ; 1  but  it  seems  not  true.  Objecting  or  not  ob¬ 
jecting,  the  gallows-vehicle  gets  under  way.  Philippe’s  dress 
is  remarked  for  its  elegance  ;  green  frock,  waistcoat  of  white 
pique,  yellow  buckskins,  boots  clear  as  Warren:  his  air,  as 
before,  entirely  composed,  impassive,  not  to  say  easy  and  Brum- 
mellean-polite.  Through  street  after  street ;  slowly,  amid  exe¬ 
crations  ;  —  past  the  Palais  Egalite,  whilom  Palais  Royal ! 
The  cruel  Populace  stopped  him  there,  some  minutes  :  Dame 
de  Buffon,  it  is  said,  looked  out  on  him,  in  Jezebel  head-tire; 
along  the  ashlar  Wall  there  ran  these  words  in  huge  tricolor 
print,  Republic  one  and  indivisible  ;  Liberty,  Equality, 
Eraternity  or  Death  :  National  Property.  Philippe’s  eyes 
flashed  hell-fire,  one  instant ;  but  the  next  instant  it  was  gone, 
and  he  sat  impassive,  Brummellean-polite.  On  the  scaffold, 

1  Forster,  ii.  628  ;  Montgaillard,  iv.  141-157. 
vol.  iv.  23 


354  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

Samson  was  for  drawing  off  his  boots :  “  Tush,”  said  Philippe, 
“they  will  come  better  off  after ;  let  us  have  done,  depechons - 
nous  !  ” 

So  Philippe  was  not  without  virtue,  then  ?  God  forbid 
that  there  should  be  any  living  man  without  it !  He  had  the 
virtue  to  keep  living  for  five-and-forty  years  ;  —  other  virtues 
perhaps  more  than  we  know  of.  But  probably  no  mortal  ever 
had  such  things  recorded  of  him :  such  facts,  and  also  such 
lies.  For  he  was  a  Jacobin  Prince  of  the  Blood ;  consider 
what  a  combination  !  Also,  unlike  any  Hero,  any  Borgia,  he 
lived  in  the  Age  of  Pamphlets.  Enough  for  us  :  Chaos  has 
reabsorbed  him ;  may  it  late  or  never  bear  his  like  again !  — 
Brave  young  Orleans  Egalite,  deprived  of  all,  only  not  de¬ 
prived  of  himself,  is  gone  to  Coire  in  the  Grisons,  under  the 
name  of  Corby,  to  teach  Mathematics.  The  Egalite  Family 
is  at  the  darkest  depths  of  the  Nadir. 

A  far  nobler  Victim  follows ;  one  who  will  claim  remem¬ 
brance  from  several  centuries:  Jeanne-Marie  Phlipon,  the 
Wife  of  Roland.  Queenly,  sublime  in  her  uncomplaining  sor¬ 
row,  seemed  she  to  Riouffe  in  her  Prison.  “  Something  more 
than  is  usually  found  in  the  looks  of  women  painted  itself,” 
says  Riouffe,1  “  in  those  large  black  eyes  of  hers,  full  of  ex¬ 
pression  and  sweetness.  She  spoke  to  me  often,  at  the  Grate : 
we  were  all  attentive  round  her,  in  a  sort  of  admiration  and 
astonishment ;  she  expressed  herself  with  a  purity,  with  a 
harmony  and  prosody  that  made  her  language  like  music,  of 
which  the  ear  could  never  have  enough.  Her  conversation 
was  serious,  not  cold ;  coming  from  the  mouth  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  it  was  frank  and  courageous  as  that  of  a.  great  man.” 
“  And  yet  her  maid  said  :  1  Before  you,  she  collects  her 
strength ;  but  in  her  own  room,  she  will  sit  three  hours 
sometimes  leaning  on  the  window,  and  weeping/  ”  She  has 
been  in  Prison,  liberated  once,  but  recaptured  the  same  hour, 
ever  since  the  first  of  June :  in  agitation  and  uncertainty ; 
which  has  gradually  settled  down  into  the  last  stern  certainty, 
that  of  death.  In  the  Abbaye  Prison,  she  occupied  Charlotte 
Corday’s  apartment.  Here  in  the  Conciergerie,  she  speaks 
1  Memoir es  ( Sur  les  Pi-isons,  i.),  pp.  55-57. 


Chap.  II. 

Brum.  18]  Nov.  8. 


DEATH. 


355 


with  Riouffe,  with  Ex-Minister  Claviere ;  calls  the  beheaded 
Twenty-two  “  Nos  amis,  our  Friends,”  —  whom  we  are  soon  to 
follow.  During  these  five  months,  those  Memoirs  of  hers  were 
written,  which  all  the  world  still  reads. 

But  now,  on  the  8th  of  November,  “clad  in  white,”  says 
Riouffe,  “  with  her  long  black  hair  hanging  down  to  her  gir¬ 
dle,”  she  is  gone  to  the  Judgment-bar.  She  returned  with  a 
quick  step  ;  lifted  her  finger,  to  signify  to  us  that  she  was 
doomed :  her  eyes  seemed  to  have  been  wet.  Fouquier-Tin- 
ville’s  questions  had  been  “  brutal ;  ”  offended  female  honor 
flung  them  back  on  him,  with  scorn,  not  without  tears.  And 
now,  short  preparation  soon  done,  she  too  shall  go  her  last 
road.  There  went  with  her  a  certain  Lamarche,  “  Director  of 
Assignat-printing ;  ”  whose  dejection  she  endeavored  to  cheer. 
Arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  she  asked  for  pen  and 
paper,  “to  write  the  strange  thoughts  that  were  rising  in 
her  :  ” 1  a  remarkable  request ;  which  was  refused.  Looking 
at  the  Statue  of  Liberty  which  stands  there,  she  says  bit¬ 
terly  :  “  0  Liberty,  what  things  are  done  in  thy  name  !  ”  For 
Lamarche’s  sake,  she  will  die  first ;  show  him  how  easy  it 
is  to  die  :  “  Contrary  to  the  order,”  said  Samson.  —  “  Pshaw, 
you  cannot  refuse  the  last  request  of  a  Lady ;  ”  and  Samson 
yielded. 

Noble  white  Vision,  with  its  high  queenly  face,  its  soft 
proud  eyes,  long  black  hair  flowing  down  to  the  girdle ;  and 
as  brave  a  heart  as  ever  beat  in  woman’s  bosom  !  Like  a 
white  Grecian  Statue,  serenely  complete,  she  shines  in  that 
black  wreck  of  things ;  —  long  memorable.  Honor  to  great 
Nature  who,  in  Paris  City,  in  the  Era  of  Noble  Sentiment 
and  Pompadourism,  can  make  a  Jeanne  Phlipon,  and  nourish 
her  to  clear  perennial  Womanhood,  though  but  on  Logics, 
Ency elope  dies,  and  the  Gospel  according  to  Jean- Jacques  ! 
Biography  will  long  remember  that  trait  of  asking  for  a  pen 
“to  write  the  strange  thoughts  that  were  rising  in  her.”  It 
is  as  a  little  light-beam,  shedding  softness,  and  a  kind  of 
sacredness,  over  all  that  preceded :  so  in  her  too  there  was  an 
TJnnamable;  she  too  was  a  Daughter  of  the  Infinite;  there 
1  Mtfmoires  de  Madame  Roland  (Introd.),  i.  68. 


356  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XYIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

were  mysteries  which  Philosophism  had  not  dreamt  of !  —  She 
left  long  written  counsels  to  her  little  Girl  ;  she  said  her  Hus¬ 
band  would  not  survive  her. 

Still  crueler  was  the  fate  of  poor  Bailly,  First  National  Presi¬ 
dent,  First  Mayor  of  Paris :  doomed  now  for  Royalism,  Fay- 
ettism ;  for  that  Red-Flag  Business  of  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  — 
one  may  say  in  general,  for  leaving  his  Astronomy  to  meddle 
with  Revolution.  It  is  the  10th  of  November,  1793,  a  cold 
bitter  drizzling  rain,  as  poor  Bailly  is  led  through  the  streets  ; 
howling  Populace  covering  him  with  curses,  with  mud ;  wav¬ 
ing  over  his  face  a  burning  or  smoking  mockery  of  a  Red 
Flag.  Silent,  unpitied,  sits  the  innocent  old  man.  Slow  far¬ 
ing  through  the  sleety  drizzle,  they  have  got  to  the  Champ- 
de-Mars  :  Not  there  !  vociferates  the  cursing  Populace ;  such 
Blood  ought  not  to  stain  an  Altar  of  the  Fatherland :  not 
there  ;  but  on  that  dung-heap  by  the  River-side  !  So  vocifer¬ 
ates  the  cursing  Populace  ;  Officiality  gives  ear  to  them.  The 
Guillotine  is  taken  down,  though  with  hands  numbed  by  the 
sleety  drizzle  ;  is  carried  to  the  River-side ;  is  there  set  up 
again,  with  slow  numbness  ;  pulse  after  pulse  still  counting 
itself  out  in  the  old  man’s  weary  heart.  For  hours  long; 
amid  curses  and  bitter  frost-rain !  “  Bailly,  thou  tremblest,” 

said  one.  “  Mon  ami ,  it  is  for  cold,”  said  Bailly,  “  c’est  de 
froid .”  Crueler  end  had  no  mortal.1 

Some  days  afterwards,  Roland,  hearing  the  news  of  what 
happened  on  the  8th,  embraces  his  kind  Friends  at  Rouen, 
leaves  their  kind  house  which  had  given  him  refuge ;  goes 
forth,  with  farewell  too  sad  for  tears.  On  the  morrow  morn¬ 
ing,  16th  of  the  month,  “  some  four  leagues  from  Rouen, 
Paris-ward,  near  Bourg-Baudoin,  in  M.  Normand’s  Avenue,” 
there  is  seen  sitting  leant  against  a  tree  the  figure  of  a  rig¬ 
orous  wrinkled  man ;  stiff  now  in  the  rigor  of  death ;  a  cane- 
sword  run  through  his  heart ;  and  at  his  feet  this  writing : 
“  Whoever  thou  art  that  findest  me  lying,  respect  my  re¬ 
mains  :  they  are  those  of  a  man  who  consecrated  all  his 
life  to  being  useful ;  and  who  has  died  as  he  lived,  virtuous 
and  honest.”  “  Not  fear,  but  indignation,  made  me  quit 

1  Vie  de  Bailly  (in  Memoires,  i.),  p.  29. 


DEATH. 


357 


Chap.  II. 

Brumaire]  November. 

my  retreat,  on  learning  that  my  Wife  had  been  murdered. 
I  wished  not  to  remain  longer  on  an  Earth  polluted  with 
crimes.” 1 

Barnave’s  appearance  at  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  was  of 
the  bravest  ;  but  it  could  not  stead  him.  They  have  sent  for 
him  from  Grenoble;  to  pay  the  common  smart.  Vain  is  elo¬ 
quence,  forensic  or  other,  against  the  dumb  Clotho-shears  of 
Tinville.  He  is  still  but  two-and-thirty,  this  Barnave,  and 
has  known  such  changes.  Short  while  ago,  we  saw  him  at  the 
top  of  Fortune’s  wheel,  his  word  a  law  to  all  Patriots :  and 
now  surely  he  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  wheel ;  in  stormful  alter¬ 
cation  with  a  Tinville  Tribunal,  which  is  dooming  him  to  die  ! 2 
And  Petion,  once  also  of  the  Extreme  Left,  and  named  Potion 
Virtue ,  where  is  he  ?  Civilly  dead ;  in  the  Caves  of  Saint- 
Emilion ;  to  be  devoured  of  dogs.  And  Robespierre,  who 
rode  along  with  him  on  the  shoulders  of  the  people,  is  in  Com¬ 
mittee  of  Salut ;  civilly  alive  :  not  to  live  always.  So  giddy- 
swift  whirls  and  spins  this  immeasurable  tormentum  of  a 
Revolution;  wild-booming;  not  to  be  followed  by  the  eye. 
Barnave,  on  the  Scaffold,  stamped  with  his  foot  ;  and  look¬ 
ing  upwards  was  heard  to  ejaculate,  “  This,  then,  is  my 
reward !  ” 

Deputy  Ex-Procureur  Manuel  is  already  gone ;  and  Deputy 
Osselin,  famed  also  in  August  and  September,  is  about  to  go : 
and  Rabaut,  discovered  treacherously  between  his  two  walls, 
and  the  Brother  of  Rabaut.  National  Deputies  not  a  few  ! 
And  Generals :  the  memory  of  General  Custine  cannot  be  de¬ 
fended  by  his  Son;  his  Son  is  already  guillotined.  Custine 
the  Ex-Noble  was  replaced  by  Houchard  the  Plebeian  :  he  too 
could  not  prosper  in  the  North ;  for  him  too  there  was  no 
mercy ;  he  has  perished  in  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  after 
attempting  suicide  in  Prison.  And  Generals  Biron,  Beauhar- 
nais,  Brunet,  whatsoever  General  prospers  not ;  tough  old 
Luckner,  with  his  eyes  grown  rheumy  ;  Alsacian  Westermann, 
valiant  and  diligent  in  La  Vendee  :  none  of  them  can ,  as  the 
Psalmist  sings,  his  soul  from  death  deliver. 

1  Memoires  de  Madame  Roland  (Introd.),  i.  88. 

2  Forster,  ii.  629. 


358  TERROIl  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

How  busy  are  the  Revolutionary  Committees  :  Sections  with 
their  Forty  Halfpence  a  day  !  Arrestment  on  arrestment  falls 
quick,  continual;  followed  by  death.  Ex-Minister  Claviere 
has  killed  himself  in  Prison.  Ex-Minister  Lebrun,  seized  in  a 
hayloft,  under  the  disguise  of  a  working-man,  is  instantly  con¬ 
ducted  to  death.1  Nay,  withal,  is  it  not  what  Barrere  calls 
“  coining  money  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolution  ”  ?  For  always 
the  “  property  of  the  guilty,  if  property  he  have,”  is  confiscated. 
To  avoid  accidents,  we  even  make  a  Law  that  suicide  shall 
not  defraud  us ;  that  a  criminal  who  kills  himself  does  not  the 
less  incur  forfeiture  of  goods.  Let  the  guilty  tremble,  there¬ 
fore,  and  the  suspect,  and  the  rich,  and  in  a  word  all  manner 
of  Culottic  men  !  Luxembourg  Palace,  once  Monsieur’s,  has 
become  a  huge  loathsome  Prison ;  Chantilly  Palace  too,  once 
Conde’s  :  —  And  their  Landlords  are  at  Blankenberg,  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  Rhine.  In  Paris  are  now  some  Twelve 
Prisons ;  in  France  some  Forty-four  Thousand ;  thitherward, 
thick  as  brown  leaves  in  Autumn,  rustle  and  travel  the  sus¬ 
pect:  shaken  down  by  Revolutionary  Committees,  they  are 
swept  thitherward,  as  into  their  storehouse,  —  to  be  consumed 
by  Samson  and  Tinville.  “  The  Guillotine  goes  not  ill,  La 
Guillotine  ne  va  pas  mal .” 


- o  - 

CHAPTER  III. 

DESTRUCTION. 

The  suspect  may  well  tremble  ;  but  how  much  more  the 
open  rebels;  —  the  Girondin  Cities  of  the  South!  Revolu¬ 
tionary  Army  is  gone  forth,  under  Ronsin  the  Playwright ; 
six  thousand  strong ;  “  in  red  nightcap,  in  tricolor  waistcoat, 
in  black-shag  trousers,  black-shag  spencer,  with  enormous  mus- 
tachios,  enormous  sabre,  —  in  carmagnole  complete  *  and 
has  portable  guillotines.  Representative  Carrier  has  got  to 
Nantes,  by  the  edge  of  blazing  La  Vendee,  which  Rossignol 

1  Moniteur,  11,  30  Decembre,  1793;  Lou  vet,  p.  287. 

2  See  Louvet,  p.  301. 


Chap.  III.  DESTRUCTION.  359 

Bruin  .-Frim.]  Nov.-Dee 

lias  literally  set  on  fire :  Carrier  will  try  what  captives  you 
make ;  what  accomplices  they  have,  Royalist  or  Girondin :  his 
guillotine  goes  always,  va  toujours ;  and  his  wool-capped 
“  Company  of  Marat.”  Little  children  are  guillotined,  and 
aged  men.  Swift  as  the  machine  is,  it  will  not  serve ;  the 
Headsman  and  all  his  valets  sink,  worn  down  with  work  ;  de¬ 
clare  that  the  human  muscles  can  no  more.1  Whereupon  you 
must  try  fusillading ;  to  which  perhaps  still  frightfuler  meth¬ 
ods  may  succeed. 

In  Brest,  to  like  purpose,  rules  J ean-Bon  Saint-Andre ;  with 
an  Army  of  Red  Nightcaps.  In  Bordeaux  rules  Tallien,  with 
his  Isabeau  and  henchmen ;  Guadets,  Cussys,  Salleses,  many 
fall ;  the  bloody  Pike  and  Nightcap  bearing  supreme  sway ; 
the  Guillotine  coining  money.  Bristly  fox-haired  Tallien, 
once  Able  Editor,  still  young  in  years,  is  now  become  most 
gloomy,  potent ;  a  Pluto  on  Earth,  and  has  the  keys  of  Tar¬ 
tarus.  One  remarks,  however,  that  a  certain  Senhorina  Caba- 
rus,  or  call  her  rather  Senhora  and  wedded  not  yet  widowed 
Dame  de  Fontenai ,  brown  beautiful  woman,  daughter  of  Caba- 
rus  the  Spanish  Merchant,  —  has  softened  the  red  bristly 
countenance ;  pleading  for  herself  and  friends  ;  and  prevail¬ 
ing.  The  keys  of  Tartarus,  or  any  kind  of  power,  are  some¬ 
thing  to  a  woman ;  gloomy  Pluto  himself  is  not  insensible  to 
love.  Like  a  new  Proserpine,  she,  by  this  red  gloomy  Dis,  is 
gathered  ;  and,  they  say,  softens  his  stone  heart  a  little. 

Maignet,  at  Orange  in  the  South  ;  Lebon,  at  Arras  in  the 
North,  become  world’s  wonders.  Jacobin  Popular  Tribunal, 
with  its  National  Representative,  perhaps  where  Girondin 
Popular  Tribunal  had  lately  been,  rises  here  and  rises  there  ; 
wheresoever  needed.  Pouches,  Maignets,  Barrases,  Frerons 
scour  the  Southern  Departments  ;  like  reapers,  with  their  guil¬ 
lotine-sickle.  Many  are  the  laborers,  great  is  the  harvest. 
By  the  hundred  and  the  thousand,  men’s  lives  are  cropt ;  cast 
like  brands  into  the  burning. 

Marseilles  is  taken,  and  put  under  martial  law  :  lo,  at  Mar¬ 
seilles,  what  one  besmutted  red-bearded  corn-ear  is  this  which 
they  cut;  —  one  gross  Man,  we  mean,  with  copper-studded 

1  Deux  Amis ,  xii.  249-251. 


360  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

face ;  plenteous  beard,  or  beard-stubble,  of  a  tile-color  ?  By 
Nemesis  and  the  Fatal  Sisters,  it  is  Jourdan  Coupe-tete ! 
Him  they  have  clutched,  in  these  martial-law  districts ;  him 
too,  with  their  “  national  razor/’  their  rasoir  national ,  they 
sternly  shave  away.  Low  now  is  Jourdan  the  Headsman’s 
own  head  ;  —  low  as  Deshuttes’s  and  Yarigny’s,  which  he  sent 
on  pikes,  in  the  Insurrection  of  Women  !  No  more  shall  he, 
as  a  copper  Portent,  be  seen  gyrating  through  the  Cities  of 
the  South ;  no  more  sit  judging,  with  pipes  and  brandy,  in  the 
Ice-tower  of  Avignon.  The  all-hiding  Earth  has  received  him, 
the  bloated  Tilebeard :  may  we  never  look  upon  his  like  again ! 
—  Jourdan  one  names;  the  other  Hundreds  are  not  named. 
Alas,  they,  like  confused  fagots,  lie  massed  together  for  us ; 
counted  by  the  cart-load :  and  yet  not  an  individual  fagot- 
twig  of  them  but  had  a  Life  and  History ;  and  was  cut,  not 
without  pangs  as  when  a  Kaiser  dies  ! 

Least  of  all  cities  can  Lyons  escape.  Lyons,  which  we  saw 
in  dread  sun-blaze,  that  Autumn  night  when  the  Powder-tower 
sprang  aloft,  was  clearly  verging  towards  a  sad  end.  Inevita¬ 
ble  :  what  could  desperate  valor  and  Precy  do ;  Dubois-Crance, 
deaf  as  Destiny,  stern  as  Doom,  capturing  their  “  redoubts  of 
cotton-bags ;  ”  hemming  them  in,  ever  closer,  with  his  Artillery- 
lava  ?  Never  would  that  ci-devant  D’Autichamp  arrive  ;  never 
any  help  from  Blankenberg.  The  Lyons  Jacobins  were  hidden 
in  cellars  ;  the  Girondin  Municipality  waxed  pale,  in  famine, 
treason  and  red  fire.  Precy  drew  his  sword,  and  some  Fifteen 
Hundred  with  him ;  sprang  to  saddle,  to  cut  their  way  to 
Switzerland.  They  cut  fiercely ;  and  were  fiercely  cut,  and 
cut  down  ;  not  hundreds,  hardly  units  of  them  ever  saw  Switz¬ 
erland.1  Lyons,  on  the  9th  of  October,  surrenders  at  discre¬ 
tion  ;  it  is  become  a  devoted  Town.  Abbe  Lamourette,  now 
Bishop  Lamourette,  whilom  Legislator,  he  of  the  old  Baiser- 
Lamourette  or  Delilah-Kiss,  is  seized  here ;  is  sent  to  Paris 
to  be  guillotined  :  “  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,”  they  say, 
when  Tinville  intimated  his  death-sentence  to  him ;  and  died 
as  an  eloquent  Constitutional  Bishop.  But  woe  now  to  all 

1  Deux  Amis,  xi.  145. 


Chap.  Ill  DESTRUCTION.  361 

BrumaireJ  November. 

Bishops,  Priests,  Aristocrats  and  Federalists  that  are  in 
Lyons  !  The  manes  of  Chalier  are  to  be  appeased ;  the  Re¬ 
public,  maddened  to  the  Sibylline  pitch,  has  bared  her  right 
arm.  Behold !  Representative  Fouche,  it  is  Fouche  of  Nantes, 
a  name  to  become  well  known  j  he  with  a  Patriot  company 
goes  duly,  in  wondrous  Procession,  to  raise  the  corpse  of 
Chalier.  An  Ass  housed  in  Priest’s  cloak,  with  a  mitre  on 
his  head,  and  trailing  the  Mass-Books,  some  say  the  very 
Bible,  at  its  tail,  paces  through  L}^ons  streets  :  escorted  by 
multitudinous  Patriotism,  by  clangor  as  of  the  Pit ;  towards 
the  grave  of  Martyr  Chalier.  The  body  is  dug  up,  and  burnt : 
the  ashes  are  collected  in  an  Urn ;  to  be  worshipped  of  Paris 
Patriotism.  The  Holy  Books  were  part  of  the  funeral  pile  j 
their  ashes  are  scattered  to  the  wind.  Amid  cries  of  “  Ven¬ 
geance  !  Vengeance!”  —  which,  writes  Fouche,  shall  be  sat¬ 
isfied.1 

Lyons  in  fact  is  a  Town  to  be  abolished ;  not  Lyons  hence¬ 
forth,  but  “  Commune  Ajfranchie,  Township  Freed  :  ”  the  very 
name  of  it  shall  perish.  It  is  to  be  rased,  this  once  great 
City,  if  Jacobinism  prophesy  right ;  and  a  Pillar  to  be  erected 
on  the  ruins,  with  this  Inscription,  Lyons  rebelled  against  the 
Republic;  Lyons  is  no  more.  Fouche,  Couthon,  Collot,  Con¬ 
vention  Representatives  succeed  one  another :  there  is  work 
for  the  hangman ;  work  for  the  hammerman,  not  in  building. 
The  very  Houses  of  Aristocrats,  we  say,  are  doomed.  Para¬ 
lytic  Couthon,  borne  in  a  chair,  taps  on  the  wall,  with  emblem¬ 
atic  mallet,  saying,  uLa  Loi  te  frappe ,  The  Law  strikes  thee ;  ” 
masons,  with  wedge  and  crowbar,  begin  demolition.  Crash 
of  downfall,  dim  ruin  and  dust-clouds  fly  in  the  winter  wind. 
Had  Lyons  been  of  soft  stuff,  it  had  all  vanished  in  those 
weeks,  and  the  Jacobin  prophecy  had  been  fulfilled.  But 
Towns  are  not  built  of  soap-froth ;  Lyons  Town  is  built  of 
stone.  Lyons,  though  it  rebelled  against  the  Republic,  is  to 
this  day. 

Neither  have  the  Lyons  Girondins  all  one  neck,  that  you 
could  despatch  it  at  one  swoop.  Revolutionary  Tribunal  here, 
and  Military  Commission,  guillotining,  fusillading,  do  what 
1  Moniteur  (du  17  Novembre,  1793),  &c. 


362  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

they  can :  the  kennels  of  the  Place  des  Terreaux  run  red ; 
mangled  corpses  roll  down  the  Rhone.  Collot-d’Herbois,  they 
say,  was  once  hissed  on  the  Lyons  stage  :  but  with  what  sibi¬ 
lation,  of  world-catcall  or  hoarse  Tartarean  Trumpet,  will  ye 
hiss  him  now,  in  this  his  new  character  of  Convention  Repre¬ 
sentative,  —  not  to  be  repeated  !  Two  hundred  and  nine  men 
are  marched  forth  over  the  River,  to  be  shot  in  mass,  by  mus¬ 
ket  and  cannon,  in  the  Promenade  of  the  Brotteaux.  It  is  the 
second  of  such  scenes  ;  the  first  was  of  some  seventy.  The 
corpses  of  the  first  were  flung  into  the  Rhone,  but  the  Rhone 
stranded  some  ;  so  these  now,  of  the  second  lot,  are  to  be 
buried  on  land.  Their  one  long  grave  is  dug ;  they  stand 
ranked,  by  the  loose  mould-ridge ;  the  younger  of  them  sing¬ 
ing  the  Marseillaise.  Jacobin  National  Guards  give  fire  ;  but 
have  again  to  give  fire,  and  again  ;  and  to  take  the  bayonet 
and  the  spade,  for  though  the  doomed  all  fall,  they  do  not  all 
die  ;  —  and  it  becomes  a  butchery  too  horrible  for  speech.  So 
that  the  very  Nationals,  as  they  fire,  turn  away  their  faces. 
Collot,  snatching  the  musket  from  one  such  National,  and 
levelling  it  with  unmoved  countenance,  says,  “  It  is  thus  a 
Republican  ought  to  fire.” 

This  is  the  second  Fusillade,  and  happily  the  last :  it  is 
found  too  hideous  ;  even  inconvenient.  There  were  two  hun¬ 
dred  and  nine  marched  out ;  one  escaped  at  the  end  of  the 
Bridge  :  yet  behold,  when  you  count  the  corpses,  they  are  two 
hundred  and  ten.  Rede  us  this  riddle,  0  Collot  ?  After  long 
guessing,  it  is  called  to  mind  that  two  individuals,  here  in  the 
Brotteaux  ground,  did  attempt  to  leave  the  rank,  protesting 
with  agony  that  they  were  not  condemned  men,  that  they 
were  Police  Commissaries  :  which  two  we  repulsed,  and  dis¬ 
believed,  and  shot  with  the  rest ! 1  Such  is  the  vengeance 
of  an  enraged  Republic.  Surely  this,  according  to  Barrere’s 
phrase,  is  Justice  “  under  rough  forms,  sous  des  formes  acerbes” 
But  the  Republic,  as  Fouche  says,  must  “  march  to  Liberty  over 
corpses.”  Or  again,  as  Barrere  has  it :  “  None  but  the  dead 
do  not  come  back,  II  n’y  a  que  les  morts  qui  ne  reviennent  pas 
Terror  hovers  far  and  wide  :  “  the  Guillotine  goes  not  ill.” 

1  Deux  Amis,  xii.  251-262. 


DESTRUCTION. 


Chap.  III. 

Frimaire]  December. 


363 


But  before  quitting  those  Southern  regions,  over  which  His¬ 
tory  can  cast  only  glances  from  aloft,  she  will  alight  for  a 
moment,  and  look  fixedly  at  one  point :  the  Siege  of  Toulon. 
Much  battering  and  bombarding,  heating  of  balls  in  furnaces 
or  farm-houses,  serving  of  artillery  well  and  ill,  attacking  of 
Ollioules  Passes,  Forts  Malbosquet,  there  has  been  :  as  yet  to 
small  purpose.  We  have  had  General  Cartaux  here,  a  whilom 
Painter  elevated  in  the  troubles  of  Marseilles  ;  General  Dop- 
pet,  a  whilom  Medical  man  elevated  in  the  troubles  of  Pied¬ 
mont,  who,  under  Crance,  took  Lyons,  but  cannot  take  Toulon. 
Finally  we  have  General  Dugommier,  a  pupil  of  Washington. 
Convention  Bepresentans  also  we  have  had ;  Barrases,  Sali- 
cettis,  Robespierres  the  Younger  :  —  also  an  Artillery  Chef  de 
brigade ,  of  extreme  diligence,  who  often  takes  his  nap  of  sleep 
among  the  guns  ;  a  short,  taciturn,  olive-complexioned  young 
man,  not  unknown  to  us,  by  name  Buonaparte  ;  one  of  the 
best  Artillery-officers  yet  met  with.  And  still  Toulon  is  not 
taken.  It  is  the  fourth  month  now ;  December,  in  slave- 
style  ;  Frostarious  or  Frimaire ,  in  mew-style  :  and  still  their 
cursed  Bed-Blue  Flag  flies  tliere.  They  are  provisioned  from 
the  Sea ;  they  have  seized  all  heights,  felling  wood,  and  forti¬ 
fying  themselves  ;  like  the  cony,  they  have  built  their  nest  in 
the  rocks. 

Meanwhile  Frostarious  is  not  yet  become  Snoivoits  or  Nivose , 
when  a  Council  of  War  is  called ;  Instructions  have  just  ar¬ 
rived  from  Government  and  Salut  Public.  Carnot,  in  Salut 
Public ,  has  sent  us  a  plan  of  siege :  on  which  plan  General 
Dugommier  has  this  criticism  to  make,  Commissioner  Salicetti 
has  that ;  and  criticisms  and  plans  are  very  various  ;  when  that 
young  Artillery-Officer  ventures  to  speak ;  the  same  whom  we 
saw  snatching  sleep  among  the  guns,  who  has  emerged  several 
times  in  this  History, — the  name  of  him  Napoleon  Buona¬ 
parte.  It  is  his  humble  opinion,  for  he  has  been  gliding  about 
with  spy-glasses,  with  thoughts,  That  a  certain  Fort  l’Eguil- 
lette  can  be  clutched,  as  with  lion-spring,  on  the  sudden ; 
wherefrom,  were  it  once  ours,  the  very  heart  of  Toulon  might 
be  battered;  the  English  Lines  were,  so  to  speak,  turned  in¬ 
side  out,  and  Hood  and  our  Natural  Enemies  must  next  day 


864  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIIT. 

1793  [Year  2. 

either  put  to  sea,  or  be  burnt  to  ashes.  Commissioners  arch 
their  eyebrows,  with  negatory  sniff :  who  is  this  young  gentle¬ 
man  with  more  wit  than  we  all  ?  Brave  veteran  Dugommier, 
however,  thinks  the  idea  worth  a  word ;  questions  the  young 
gentleman ;  becomes  convinced ;  and  there  is  for  issue,  Try  it. 

On  the  taciturn  bronze-countenance  therefore,  things  being 
now  all  ready,  there  sits  a  grimmer  gravity  than  ever,  com¬ 
pressing  a  hotter  central-fire  than  ever.  Yonder,  thou  seest, 
is  Fort  l’Eguillette ;  a  desperate  lion-spring,  yet  a  possible 
one ;  this  day  to  be  tried  !  —  Tried  it  is ;  and  found  good. 
By  stratagem  and  valor,  stealing  through  ravines,  plunging 
fiery  through  the  fire-tempest,  Fort  l’Eguillette  is  clutched  at, 
is  carried ;  the  smoke  having  cleared,  we  see  the  Tricolor  fly 
on  it ;  the  bronze-complexioned  young  man  was  right.  Next 
morning,  Hood,  finding  the  interior  of  his  lines  exposed,  his 
defences  turned  inside  out,  makes  for  his  shipping.  Taking 
such  Royalists  as  wished  it  on  board  with  him,  he  weighs 
anchor ;  on  this  19th  of  December,  1793,  Toulon  is  once  more 
the  Republic’s  ! 

Cannonading  has  ceased  at  Toulon ;  and  now  the  guillotin¬ 
ing  and  fusillading  may  begin.  Civil  horrors,  truly  :  but  at 
least  that  infamy  of  an  English  domination  is  purged  away. 
Let  there  be  Civic  Feast  universally  over  France :  so  reports 
Barrere,  or  Painter  David ;  and  the  Convention  assist  in  a 
body.1  Nay,  it  is  said,  these  infamous  English  (with  an  at¬ 
tention  rather  to  their  own  interests  than  to  ours)  set  fire  to 
our  store-houses,  arsenals,  war-ships  in  Toulon  Harbor,  before 
weighing ;  some  score  of  brave  war-ships,  the  only  ones  we  now 
had !  However,  it  did  not  prosper,  though  the  flame  spread 
far  and  high ;  some  two  ships  were  burned,  not  more  ;  the 
very  galley-slaves  ran  with  buckets  to  quench.  These  same 
proud  Ships,  Ship  V  Orient  and  the  rest,  have  to  carry  this 
same  young  Man  to  Egypt  first :  not  yet  can  they  be  changed 
to  ashes,  or  to  Sea-Nymphs ;  not  yet  to  sky-rockets,  0  ship 
V  Orient ;  nor  become  the  prey  of  England,  —  before  their 
time ! 

And  so,  over  France  universally,  there  is  Civic  Feast  and 
1  Moniteur,  1793.,  Nos.  101  (31  Deeembre),  195,  196,  198,  &c. 


DESTRUCTION. 


365 


Chap.  III. 

Friin.  24]  Dec.  2. 

high-tide  :  and  Toulon  sees  fusillading,  grape-shotting  in  mass, 
as  Lyons  saw  ;  and  “  death  is  poured  out  in  great  floods,  vomie 
a  grands  flots  ;  ”  and  twelve  thousand  Masons  are  requisitioned 
from  the  neighboring  country,  to  raze  Toulon  from  the  face  of 
the  Earth.  For  it  is  to  be  razed,  so  reports  Barrere ;  all  but 
the  National  Shipping  Establishments ;  and  to  be  called  hence¬ 
forth  not  Toulon,  but  Port  of  the,  Mountain.  .  There  in  black 
death-cloud  we  must  leave  it ;  —  hoping  only  that  Toulon  too 
is  built  of  stone  ;  that  perhaps  even  twelve  thousand  Masons 
cannot  pull  it  down,  till  the  fit  pass. 

One  begins  to  be  sick  of  “  death  vomited  in  great  floods.” 
Nevertheless,  hearest  thou  not,  0  Reader  (for  the  sound  reaches 
through  centuries),  in  the  dead  December  and  January  nights, 
over  Nantes  Town,  —  confused  noises,  as  of  musketry  and 
tumult,  as  of  rage  and  lamentation;  mingling  with  the  ever¬ 
lasting  moan  of  the  Loire  waters  there  ?  Nantes  Town  is 
sunk  in  sleep ;  but  Rejoresentant  Carrier  is  not  sleeping,  the 
wool-capped  Company  of  Marat  is  not  sleeping.  Why  un¬ 
moors  that  flat-bottomed  craft,  that  gabarre  ;  about  eleven  at 
night ;  with  Ninety  Priests  under  hatches  ?  They  are  going 
to  Belle  Isle  ?  In  the  middle  of  the  Loire  stream,  on  signal 
given,  the  gabarre  is  scuttled;  she  sinks  with  all  her  cargo. 
“ Sentence  of  Deportation,”  writes  Carrier,  “was  executed 
vertically .”  The  Ninety  Priests,  with  their  gabarre-coffin,  lie 
deep !  It  is  the  first  of  the  Noyades ,  what  we  may  call  Drown - 
ages ,  of  Carrier  ;  which  have  become  famous  forever. 

Guillotining  there  was  at  Nantes,  till  the  Headsman  sank 
worn  out :  then  fusillading  “  in  the  Plain  of  Saint-Mauve ;  ” 
little  children  fusilladed,  and  women  with  children  at  the 
breast ;  children  and  women,  by  the  hundred  and  twenty ;  and 
by  the  five  hundred,  so  hot  is  La  Vendee  :  till  the  very  Jaco¬ 
bins  grew  sick,  and  all  but  the  Company  of  Marat  cried,  Hold ! 
Wherefore  now  we  have  got  Noyading ;  and  on  the  24th  night 
of  Frostarious,  year  2,  which  is  14th  of  December,  1793,  we 
have  a  second  Noyade  ;  consisting  of  “a  hundred  and  thirty- 
eight  persons.” 1 

Or  why  waste  a  gabarre,  sinking  it  with  them  ?  Fling  them 
1  Deux  Amis,  xii.  266-272 ;  Moniteur,  du  2  Janvier,  1794. 


866  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

out  j  fling  them  out,  with  their  hands  tied :  pour  a  continual 
hail  of  lead  over  all  the  space,  till  the  last  struggler  of  them 
be  sunk  !  Unsound  sleepers  of  Nantes,  and  the  Sea-Villages 
thereabouts,  hear  the  musketry  amid  the  night-winds  ;  wonder 
what  the  meaning  of  it  is.  And  women  were  in  that  gabarre  ; 
whom  the  Red  Nightcaps  were  stripping  naked ;  who  begged, 
in  their  agony,  that  their  smocks  might  not  be  stript  from 
them.  And  young  children  were  thrown  in,  their  mothers 
vainly  pleading  :  “  Wolflings,”  answered  the  Company  of 
Marat,  “  who  would  grow  to  be  wolves.” 

By  degrees,  daylight  itself  witnesses  Noyades  :  women  and 
men  are  tied  together,  feet  and  feet,  hands  and  hands ;  and 
flung  in :  this  they  call  Mariage  Republicctin,  Republican  Mar¬ 
riage.  Cruel  is  the  panther  of  the  woods,  the  she-bear  be¬ 
reaved  of  her  whelps  :  but  there  is  in  man  a  hatred  crueler 
than  that.  Dumb,  out  of  suffering  now,  as  pale  swoln 
corpses,  the  victims  tumble  confusedly  seaward  along  the 
Loire  stream ;  the  tide  rolling  them  back :  clouds  of  ravens 
darken  the  River ;  wolves  prowl  on  the  shoal-places  :  Carrier 
writes,  “  Quel  torrent  revolutionnaire ,  What  a  torrent  of  Revo¬ 
lution  !  ”  For  the  man  is  rabid ;  and  the  Time  is  rabid.  These 
are  the  Noyades  of  Carrier ;  twenty-five  by  the  tale,  for  what 
is  done  in  darkness  comes  to  be  investigated  in  sunlight ; 1  not 
to  be  “forgotten  for  centuries.  — We  will  turn  to  another  aspect 
of  the  Consummation  of  Sansculottism ;  leaving  this  as  the 
blackest. 

But  indeed  men  are  all  rabid ;  as  the  Time  is.  Representa¬ 
tive  Lebon,  at  Arras,  dashes  his  sword  into  the  blood  flowing 
from  the  Guillotine  ;  exclaims,  “  How  I  like  it !  ”  Mothers, 
they  say,  by  his  orders,  have  to  stand  by  while  the  Guillotine 
devours  their  children :  a  band  of  music  is  stationed  near ;  and, 
at  the  fall  of  every  head,  strikes  up  its  Ca-ira .2  In  the  Burgh 
of  Bedouin,  in  the  Orange  region,  the  Liberty-tree  has  been 
cut  down  overnight.  Representative  Maignet,  at  Orange, 
hears  of  it ;  burns  Bedouin  Burgh  to  the  last  dog-hutch ;  guil¬ 
lotines  the  inhabitants,  or  drives  them  into  the  caves  and 

1  Proces  de  Carrier  (4  tomes,  Paris,  1795). 

2  Les  Horreurs  des  Prisons  d’ Arras  (Paris,  1823). 


Chap.  IV.  CARMAGNOLE  COMPLETE.  367 

Brum.  20]  Nov.  10. 

hills.1  Republic  One  and  Indivisible !  She  is  the  newest 
Birtli  of  Nature’s  waste  inorganic  Deep,  which  men  name 
Orcus,  Chaos,  primeval  Night  ;  and  knows  one  law,  that 
of  self-preservation.  Tigresse  Nationale :  meddle  not  with  a 
whisker  of  her !  Swift-rending  is  her  stroke ;  look  what  a 
paw  she  spreads ;  —  pity  has  not  entered  into  her  heart. 

Prudhomme,  the  dull-blustering  Printer  and  Able  Editor, 
as  yet  a  Jacobin  Editor,  will  become  a  renegade  one,  and 
publish  large  volumes,  on  these  matters,  Crimes  of  the  Revo¬ 
lution  ;  adding  innumerable  lies  withal,  as  if  the  truth  were 
not  sufficient.  We,  for  our  part,  find  it  more  edifying  to 
know,  one  good  time,  that  this  Republic  and  National  Tigress 
is  a  New-Birth;  a  Fact  of  Nature  among  Formulas,  in  an 
Age  of  Formulas  ;  and  to  look,  oftenest  in  silence,  how  the 
so  genuine  Nature-Fact  will  demean  itself  among  these. 
For  the  Formulas  are  partly  genuine,  partly  delusive,  sup¬ 
posititious  :  wTe  call  them,  in  the  language  of  metaphor,  regu¬ 
lated  modelled  shapes  ;  some  of  which  have  bodies  and  life 
still  in  them;  most  of  which,  according  to  a  German  Writer, 
have  only  emptiness,  “glass  eyes  glaring  on  you  with  a 
ghastly  affectation  of  life,  and  in  their  interior  unclean  ac¬ 
cumulation  of  beetles  and  spiders  !  ”  But  the  Fact,  let  all 
men  observe,  is  a  genuine  and  sincere  one ;  the  sincerest  of 
Facts  ;  terrible  in  its  sincerity,  as  very  Death.  Whatsoever 
is  equally  sincere  may  front  it,  and  beard  it ;  but  whatsoever 
is  not  ?  — 

- « - . 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CARMAGNOLE  COMPLETE. 

Simultaneously  with  this  Tophet-black  aspect,  there  un¬ 
folds  itself  another  aspect,  which  one  may  call  a  Tophet-red 
aspect,  the  Destruction  of  the  Catholic  Religion ;  and  indeed, 
for  the  time  being,  of  Religion  itself.  We  saw  Romme’s  New 
Calendar  establish  its  Tenth  Day  of  Rest ;  and  asked,  what 

1  Montgaillard,  iv.  200. 


368  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

would  become  of  the  Christian  Sabbath?  The  Calendar  is 
hardly  a  month  old,  till  all  this  is  set  at  rest.  Very  singular, 
as  Mercier  observes  :  last  Corpus-  Christi  Day,  1792,  the  whole 
world,  and  Sovereign  Authority  itself,  walked  in  religious 
gala,  with  a  quite  devout  air  ;  —  Butcher  Legendre,  supposed 
to  be  irreverent,  was  like  to  be  massacred  in  his  Gig,  as  the 
thing  went  by.  A  Gallican  Hierarchy,  and  Church,  and 
Church  Formulas  seemed  to  flourish,  a  little  brown-leaved 
or  so,  but  not  browner  than  of  late  years  or  decades ;  to 
flourish  far  and  wide,  in  the  sympathies  of  an  unsophisti¬ 
cated  People ;  defying  Philosophism,  Legislature  and  the 
Encyclopedic.  Far  and  wide,  alas,  like  a  brown-leaved  Val- 
lombrosa:  which  waits  but  one  whirl-blast  of  the  November 
•wind,  and  in  an  hour  stands  bare!  Since  that  Corpus- Christi 
Day,  Brunswick  has  come,  and  the  Emigrants,  and  La  Yen- 
dee,  and  eighteen  months  of  Time :  to  all  flourishing,  espe¬ 
cially  to  brown-leaved  flourishing,  there  comes,  were  it  never 
so  slowly,  an  end. 

On  the  7th  of  November,  a  certain  Citoyen  Parens,  Cu¬ 
rate  of  Boissise-le-Bertrand,  writes  to  the  Convention  that  he 
has  all  his  life  been  preaching  a  lie,  and  is  grown  weary  of 
doing  it;  wherefore  he  will  now  lay  down  his  Curacy  and 
stipend,  and  begs  that  an  august  Convention  would  give 
him  something  else  to  live  upon.  u  Mention  honorable shall 
we  give  him?  Or  “ reference  to  Committee  of  Finances”? 
Hardly  is  this  got  decided,  when  goose  Gobel,  Constitutional 
Bishop  of  Paris,  with  his  Chapter,  with  Municipal  and  De¬ 
partmental  escort  in  red  nightcaps,  makes  his  appearance,  to 
do  as  Parens  has  done.  Goose  Gobel  will  now  acknowledge 
“  no  Religion  but  Liberty ;  ”  therefore  he  doffs  his  Priest-gear, 
and  receives  the  Fraternal  embrace.  To  the  joy  of  Depart¬ 
mental  Momoro,  of  Municipal  Chaumettes  and  Heberts,  of 
Vincent  and  the  Revolutionary  Army !  Chaumette  asks, 
Ought  there  not,  in  these  circumstances,  to  be  among  our 
intercalary  Days  Sans-breeches,  a  Feast  of  Reason  ?  1  Proper 
surely !  Let  Atheist  Marechal,  Lalande,  and  little  Atheist 
Naigeon  rejoice ;  let  Clootz,  Speaker  of  Mankind,  present  to 
1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  17  Brumaire  (7th  November),  1793. 


Chap.  IV.  CARMAGNOLE  COMPLETE.  369 

Brum.  20]  Nov.  10. 

the  Convention  his  Evidences  of  the  Mahometan  Religion ,  “  a 
work  evincing  the  nullity  of  all  Religions/’  —  with  thanks. 
There  shall  be  Universal  Republic  now,  thinks  Clootz ;  and 
“  one  God  only,  Le  Peuple.” 

The  French  Nation  is  of  gregarious  imitative  nature ;  it 
needed  but  a  fugle-motion  in  this  matter ;  and  goose  Gobel, 
driven  by  Municipality  and  force  of  circumstances,  has  given 
one.  What  Cure  will  be  behind  him  of  Boissise  ;  what  Bishop 
behind  him  of  Paris  ?  Bishop  Gregoire,  indeed,  courageously 
declines;  to  the  sound  of  “We  force  no  one;  let  Gregoire 
consult  his  conscience  ;  ”  but  Protestant  and  Romish  by  the 
hundred  volunteer  and  assent.  From  far  and  near,  all 
through  November  into  December,  till  the  work  is  accom¬ 
plished,  come  Letters  of  renegation,  come  Curates  who  “are 
learning  to  be  Carpenters,”  Curates  with  their  new-wedded 
Nuns :  has  not  the  day  of  Reason  dawned,  very  swiftly, 
and  become  noon  ?  From  sequestered  Townships  come  Ad¬ 
dresses,  stating  plainly,  though  in  Patois  dialect,  That  “  they 
will  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  black  animal  called  Curay, 
animal  noir  appele  Cur  ay  P  1 

Above  all  things,  there  come  Patriotic  Gifts,  of  Church- 
furniture.  The  remnant  of  bells,  except  for  tocsin,  descend 
from  their  belfries,  into  the  National  melting-pot  to  make 
cannon.  Censers  and  all  sacred  vessels  are  beaten  broad ; 
of  silver,  they  are  fit  for  the  poverty-stricken  Mint ;  of 
pewter,  let  them  become  bullets,  to  shoot  the  “enemies  du 
genre  humain P  Dalmatics  of  plush  make  breeches  for  him 
who  had  none ;  linen  albs  will  clip  into  shirts  for  the  De¬ 
fenders  of  the  Country :  old-clothesmen,  J ew  or  Heathen, 
drive  the  briskest  trade.  Chalier’s  Ass-Procession,  at  Lyons, 
was  but  a  type  of  what  went  on,  in  those  same  days,  in  all 
Towns.  In  all  Towns  and  Townships  as  quick  as  the  guil¬ 
lotine  may  go,  so  quick  goes  the  axe  and  the  wrench:  sa.- 
cristies,  lutrins,  altar-rails  are  pulled  down ;  the  Mass-Books 
torn  into  cartridge-papers :  men  dance  the  Carmagnole  all 
night  about  the  bonfire.  All  highways  jingle  with  metallic 
Priest-tackle,  beaten  broad ;  sent  to  the  Convention,  to  the 

1  Analyse  da  Moniteur  (Paris,  1801),  ii.  280. 

24 


VOL.  IV. 


370  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

poverty-stricken  Mint.  Good  Sainte-Genevieve’s  Chasse  is 
let  down  :  alas,  to  be  burst  open,  this  time,  and  burnt  on  the 
Place  de  Greve.  Saint  Louis’s  Shirt  is  burnt ;  —  might  not 
a  Defender  of  the  Country  have  had  it  ?  At  Saint-Denis 
Town,  no  longer  Saint-Denis  but  Franciade,  Patriotism  has 
been  down  among  the  Tombs,  rummaging ;  the  Revolutionary 
Army  has  taken  spoil.  This,  accordingly,  is  what  the  streets 
of  Paris  saw :  — 

.  “  Most  of  these  persons  were  still  drunk,  with  the  brandy 
they  had  swallowed  out  of  chalices  ;  —  eating  mackerel  on 
the  patenas !  Mounted  on  Asses,  which  were  housed  with 
Priests’  cloaks,  they  reined  them  with  Priests’  stoles ;  they 
held  clutched  with  the  same  hand  communion-cup  and  sacred 
wafer.  They  stopped  at  the  doors  of  Dramshops  ;  held  out 
ciboriums :  and  the  landlord,  stoup  in  hand,  had  to  fill  them 
thrice.  Next  came  Mules  high-laden  with  crosses,  chandeliers, 
censers,  holy- water  vessels,  hyssops ;  —  recalling  to  mind  the 
Priests  of  Cybele,  whose  panniers,  filled  with  the  instruments 
of  their  worship,  served  at  once  as  store-house,  sacristy  and 
temple.  In  such  equipage  did  these  profaners  advance  to¬ 
wards  the  Convention.  They  enter  there,  in  an  immense 
train,  ranged  in  two  rows ;  all  masked  like  mummers  in  fan¬ 
tastic  sacerdotal  vestments ;  bearing  on  hand-barrows  their 
heaped  plunder,  —  ciboriums,  suns,  candelabras,  plates  of  gold 
and  silver.”  1 

The  Address  we  do  not  give  ;  for  indeed  it  was  in  strophes, 
sung  viva  voce,  with  all  the  parts ;  Danton  glooming  consider¬ 
ably,  in  his  place ;  and  demanding  that  there  be  prose  and 
decency  in  future.2  Nevertheless  the  captors  of  such  spolia 
opima  crave,  not  untouched  with  liquor,  permission  to  dance 
the  Carmagnole  also  on  the  spot :  whereto  an  exhilarated  Con¬ 
vention  cannot  but  accede.  Nay  “  several  Members,”  continues 
the  exaggerative  Mercier,  who  was  not  there  to  witness,  being 
in  Limbo  now,  as  one  of  Duperret’s  Seventy-three ,  “  several 
Members,  quitting  their  curule  chairs,  took  the  hand  of  girls 
flaunting  in  Priests’  vestures,  and  danced  the  Carmagnole  along 

1  Mercier,  iv.  134.  See  Momteur,  Seance  du  10  Novembre. 

2  See  also  Moniteur,  Seance  du  26  Novembre. 


CARMAGNOLE  COMPLETE. 


Chap.  IV. 


371 


Brum.  20]  Nov.  10. 

with  them.”  Such  Old-Hallowtide  have  they,  in  this  year, 
once  named  of  Grace  1793. 


Out  of  which  strange  fall  of  Formulas,  tumbling  there  in 
confused  welter,  betrampled  by  the  Patriotic  dance,  is  it  not 
passing  strange  to  see  a  new  Formula  arise  ?  For  the  human 
tongue  is  not  adequate  to  speak  what  “  triviality  run  dis¬ 
tracted”  there  is  in  human  nature.  Black  Mumbo-Jumbo  of 
the  woods,  and  most  Indian  Wau-waus,  one  can  understand : 
but  this  of  Procureur  Anaxagoras ,  whilom  John-Peter,  Chau- 
mette  ?  We  will  say  only  :  Man  is  a  born  idol-worshipper, 
siy/i£-worshipper,  so  sensuous-imaginative  is  he ;  and  also  par¬ 
takes  much  of  the  nature  of  the  ape. 

For  the  same  day,  while  this  brave  Carmagnole-dance  has 
hardly  jigged  itself  out,  there  arrive  Procureur  Chaumette  and 
Municipals  and  Departmentals,  and  with  them  the  strangest 
freightage:  a  New..  Religion !  Demoiselle  Candeille,  of  the 
Opera ;  a  woman  fair  to  look  upon,  when  well  rouged ;  she, 
borne  on  palanquin  shoulder-high ;  with  red  woollen  nightcap ; 
in  azure  mantle  ;  garlanded  with  oak ;  holding  in  her  Land  th# 
Pike  of  the  Jupiter -Peujple,  sails  in  :  heralded  by  white  young 
women  girt  in  tricolor.  Let  the  world  consider  it  !  This, 
0  National  Convention  wonder  of  the  universe,  is  our  New 
Divinity ;  Goddess  of  Reason ,  worthy,  and  alone  worthy  of 
revering.  Her  henceforth  we  adore.  Nay  were  it  too  much 
to  ask  of  an  august  National  Representation  that  it  also  went 
with  us  to  the  ci-devant  Cathedral  called  of  Notre-Dame,  and 
executed  a  few  strophes  in  worship  of  her  ? 

President  and  Secretaries  give  Goddess  Candeille,  borne  at 
due  height  round  their  platform,  successively  the  Fraternal 
kiss  ;  whereupon  she,  by  decree,  sails  to  the  right  hand  of  the 
President  and  there  alights.  And  now,  after  due  pause  and 
flourishes  of  oratory,  the  Convention,  gathering  its  limbs,  does 
get  under  way  in  the  required  procession  towards  Notre-Dame ; 
—  Reason,  again  in  her  litter,  sitting  in  the  van  of  them,  borne, 
as  one  judges,  by  men  in  the  Roman  costume ;  escorted  by 
wind-music,  red  nightcaps,  and  the  madness  of  the  world. 
And  so,  straightway,  Reason  taking  seat  on  the  high-altar  of 


372  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

Notre-Dame,  tlie  requisite  worship  or  quasi-worship  is,  say  the 
Newspapers,  executed;  National  Convention  chanting  “the 
Hymn  to  Liberty ,  words  by  Chenier,  music  by  Gossec.”  It  is 
the  first  of  the  Feasts  of  Reason;  first  communion-service  of 
the  New  Religion  of  Chaumette. 

“The  corresponding  Festival  in  the  Church  of  Saint-Eus- 
tache,”  says  Mercier,  “  offered  the  spectacle  of  a  great  tavern. 
The  interior  of  the  choir  represented  a  landscape  decorated 
with  cottages  and  boskets  of  trees.  Round  the  choir  stood 
tables  overloaded  with  bottles,  with  sausages,  pork-puddings, 
pastries  and  other  meats.  The  guests  flowed  in  and  out 
through  all  doors  :  whosoever  presented  himself  took  part  of 
the  good  things  :  children  of  eight,  girls  as  well  as  boys,  put 
hand  to  plate,  in  sign  of  Liberty  j  they  drank  also  of  the  bot¬ 
tles,  and  their  prompt  intoxication  created  laughter.  Reason 
sat  in  azure  mantle  aloft,  in  §  serene  manner ;  Cannoneers, 
pipe  in  mouth,  serving  her  as  acolytes.  And  out  of  doors,” 
continues  the  exaggerative  man,  “  were  mad  multitudes  danc¬ 
ing  round  the  bonfire  of  Chapel-balustrades,  of  Priests’  and 
Canons’  stalls ;  and  the  dancers,  —  I  exaggerate  nothing,  — the 
dancers  nigh  bare  of  breeches,  neck  and  breast  naked,  stock¬ 
ings  down,  went  whirling  and  spinning,  like  those  Dust-vor¬ 
texes,  forerunners  of  Tempest  and  Destruction.”  1  At  Saint 
Gervais  Church,  again,  there  was  a  terrible  “smell  of  her¬ 
rings  ;  ”  Section  or  Municipality  having  provided  no  food,  no 
condiment,  but  left  it  to  chance.  Other  mysteries,  seemingly 
of  a  Cabiric  or  even  Paphian  character,  we  leave  under  the 
Veil,  which  appropriately  stretches  itself  “  along  the  pillars  of 
the  aisles,”  —  not  to  be  lifted  aside  by  the  hand  of  History. 

But  there  is  one  thing  we  should  like  almost  better  to  under¬ 
stand  than  any  other  :  what  Reason  herself  thought  of  it,  all 
the  while.  What  articulate  words  poor  Mrs.  Momoro,  for  ex¬ 
ample,  uttered  ;  when  she  had  become  ungoddessed  again,  and 
the  Bibliopolist  and  she  sat  quiet  at  home,  at  supper  ?  For 
he  was  an  earnest  man,  Bookseller  Momoro ;  and  had  notions 
of  Agrarian  Law.  Mrs.  Momoro,  it  is  admitted,  made  one  of 
the  best  Goddesses  of  Reason  ;  though  her  teeth  were  a  little 

1  Mercier,  iv.  127-146. 


Chap.  TV.  CARMAGNOLE  COMPLETE.  373 

lirum.  20.]  Nov.  10. 

defective.  —  And  now  if  the  Reader  will  represent  to  himself 
that  such  visible  Adoration  of  Reason  went  on  u  all  over  the 
Republic,”  through  these  November  and  December  weeks,  till 
the  Church  woodwork  was  burnt  out,  and  the  business  other¬ 
wise  completed,  he  will  perhaps  feel  sufficiently  what  an  ador¬ 
ing  Republic  it  was,  and  without  reluctance  quit  this  part  of 
the  subject. 

Such  gifts  of  Church-spoil  are  chiefly  the  work  of  the  Armee 
Revolutionnaire ;  raised,  as  we  said,  some  time  ago.  It  is  an 
army  with  portable  guillotine :  commanded  by  Playwright 
Ronsin  in  terrible  mustachios ;  and  even  by  some  uncertain 
shadow  of  Usher  Maillard,  the  old  Bastille  Hero,  Leader  of 
the  Menads,  September  Man  in  Gray  !  Clerk  Vincent  of  the 
War-Office,  one  of  Pache’s  old  Clerks,  u  with  a  head  heated  by 
the  ancient  orators,”  had  a  main  hand  in  the  appointments,  at 
least  in  the  staff-appointments. 

But  of  the  marchings  and  retreatings  of  these  Six  Thousand 
no  Xenophon  exists.  Nothing,  but  an  inarticulate  hum,  of 
cursing  and  sooty  frenzy,  surviving  dubious  in  the  memory  of 
ages  !  They  scour  the  country  round  Paris ;  seeking  Prison¬ 
ers  ;  raising  Requisitions  ;  seeing  that  Edicts  are  executed,  that 
the  Farmers  have  thrashed  sufficiently;  lowering  Church-bells 
or  metallic  Virgins.  Detachments  shoot  forth  dim,  towards 
remote  parts  of  France  ;  nay  new  Provincial  Revolutionary 
Armies  rise  dim,  here  and  there,  as  Carrier’s  Company  of 
Marat,  as  Tallien’s  Bordeaux  Troop;  like  sympathetic  clouds 
in  an  atmosphere  all  electric.  Ronsin,  they  say,  admitted,  in 
candid  moments,  that  his  troops  were  the  elixir  of  the  Rascal¬ 
ity  of  the  Earth.  One  sees  them  drawn  up  in  market-places  ; 
travel-splashed,  rough-bearded,  in  carmagnole  complete :  the 
first  exploit  is  to  prostrate  what  Royal  or  Ecclesiastical  monu¬ 
ment,  crucifix  or  the  like,  there  may  be :  to  plant  a  cannon  at 
the  steeple  ;  fetch  down  the  bell  without  climbing  for  it,  bell 
and  belfry  together.  This,  however,  it  is  said,  depends  some¬ 
what  on  the  size  of  the  town  :  if  the  town  contains  much 
population,  and  these  perhaps  of  a  dubious  choleric  aspect,  the 
Revolutionary  Army  will  do  its  work  gently,  by  ladder  and 


3T4  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

wrench ;  nay  perhaps  will  take  its  billet  without  work  at  all ; 
and,  refreshing  itself  with  a  little  liquor  and  sleep,  pass  on  to 
the  next  stage.1  Pipe  in  cheek,  sabre  on  thigh  ;  in  carmagnole 
complete  ! 

Such  things  have  been  ;  and  may  again  be.  Charles  Second 
sent  out  his  Highland  Host  over  the  Western  Scotch  Whigs : 
Jamaica  Planters  got  Dogs  from  the  Spanish  Main  to  hunt 
their  Maroons  with :  Prance  too  is  bescoured  with  a  Devil’s 
•Pack,  the  baying  of  which,  at  this  distance  of  half  a  century, 
still  sounds  in  the  mind’s  ear. 


- - O - . 

CHAPTER  Y. 

LIKE  A  THUNDER-CLOUD. 

But  the  grand  and  indeed  substantially  primary  and  generic 
aspect  of  the  Consummation  of  Terror  remains  still  to  be 
looked  at;  nay  blinkard  History  has  for  most  part  all  but 
overlooked  this  aspect,  the  soul  of  the  whole  ;  that  which 
makes  it  terrible  to  the  Enemies  of  Prance.  Let  Despotism 
and  Cimmerian  Coalitions  consider.  All  French  men  and 
French  things  are  in  a  State  of  Requisition ;  Fourteen  Armies 
are  got  on  foot ;  Patriotism,  with  all  that  it  has  of  faculty 
in  heart  or  in  head,  in  soul  or  body  or  breeches-pocket,  is 
rushing  to  the  Frontiers,  to  prevail  or  die !  Busy  sits  Carnot, 
in  Salut  Public ;  busy,  for  his  share,  in  11  organizing  victory.” 
Hot  swifter  pulses  that  Guillotine,  in  dread  systole-diastole 
in  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  than  smites  the  Sword  of 
Patriotism,  smiting  Cimmeria  back  to  its  own  borders,  from 
the  sacred  soil. 

In  fact,  the  Government  is  what  we  can  call  Revolutionary ; 
and  some  men  are  “  a  la  hauteur ,”  on  a  level  with  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  ;  and  others  are  not  a  la  hauteur ,  —  so  much  the 
worse  for  them.  But  the  Anarchy,  we  may  say,  has  organized 
itself :  Society  is  literally  overset ;  its  old  forces  working  with 

1  Deux  Amis,  xii.  62-65. 


Chap.  V .  LIKE  A  THUNDER-CLOUD.  375 

Brum.]  Nov. 

mad  activity,  but  in  tlie  inverse  order  ;  destructive  and  self¬ 
destructive. 

Curious  to  see  how  all  still  refers  itself  to  some  head  and 
fountain ;  not  even  an  Anarchy  but  must  have  a  centre  to 
revolve  round.  It  is  now  some  six  months  since  the  Commit¬ 
tee  of  Salut  Public  came  into  existence ;  some  three  months 
since  Danton  proposed  that  all  power  should  be  given  it,  and 
“  a  sum  of  fifty  millions,”  and  the  “  Government  be  declared 
Revolutionary.”  He  himself,  since  that  day,  would  take  no 
hand  in  it,  though  again  and  again  solicited ;  but  sits  private 
in  his  place  on  the  Mountain.  Since  that  day,  the  Nine,  or 
if  they  should  even  rise  to  Twelve,  have  become  permanent, 
always  re-elected  when  their  term  runs  out;  Salut  Public , 
Surete  Generale  have  assumed  their  ulterior  form  and  mode 
of  operating. 

Committee  of  Public  Salvation,  as  supreme;  of  General 
Surety,  as  subaltern :  these,  like  a  Lesser  and  Greater  Coun¬ 
cil,  most  harmonious  hitherto,  have  become  the  centre  of  all 
things.  They  ride  this  Whirlwind;  they,  raised  by  force  of 
circumstances,  insensibly,  very  strangely,  thither  to  that  dread 
height ;  —  and  guide  it,  and  seem  to  guide  it.  Stranger  set 
of  Cloud-Compellers  the  Earth  never  saw.  A  Robespierre, 
a  Billaud,  a  Collot,  Couthon,  Saint- Just ;  not  to  mention  still 
meaner  Amars,  Yadiers,  in  Surete,  Generale :  these  are  your 
Cloud-Compellers.  Small  intellectual  talent  is  necessary :  in¬ 
deed  where  among  them,  except  in  the  head  of  Carnot,  busiQd 
organizing  victory,  would  you  find  any  ?  The  talent  is  one 
of  instinct  rather.  It  is  that  of  divining  aright  what  this 
great  dumb  Whirlwind  wishes  and  wills  ;  that  of  willing, 
with  more  frenzy  than  any  one,  what  all  the  world  wills.  To 
stand  at  no  obstacles  ;  to  heed  no  considerations,  human  or 
divine ;  to  know  well  that,  of  divine  or  human,  there  is  one 
thing  needful,  Triumph  of  tha  Republic,  Destruction  of  the 
Enemies  of  the  Republic !  With  this  one  spiritual  endow¬ 
ment,  and  so  few  others,  it  is  strange  to  see  how  a  dumb 
inarticulately  storming  Whirlwind  of  things  puts,  as  it  were, 
its  reins  into  your  hand,  and  invites  and  compels  you  to  be 
leader  of  it. 


376  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793  [Year  2. 

Hard  by  sits  a  Municipality  of  Paris ;  all  in  red  nightcaps 
since  the  fourth  of  November  last;  a  set  of  men  fully  “ on  a 
level  with  circumstances,”  or  even  beyond  it.  Sleek  Mayor 
Pache,  studious  to  be  safe  in  the  middle  ;  Chaumettes,  Heberts, 
Yarlets,  and  Henriot  their  great  Commandant;  not  to  speak 
of  Vincent  the  War-clerk,  of  Momoros,  Dobsents  and  such  like  : 
all  intent  to  have  Churches  plundered,  to  have  Reason  adored, 
Suspects  cut  down,  and  the  Revolution  triumph.  Perhaps 
carrying  the  matter  too  far  ?  Danton  was  heard  to  grumble 
at  the  civic  strophes ;  and  to  recommend  prose  and  decency. 
Robespierre  also  grumbles  that,  in  overturning  Superstition, 
we  did  not  mean  to  make  a  religion  of  Atheism.  In  fact, 
your  Chaumette  and  Company  constitute  a  kind  of  Hyper- 
Jacobinism,  or  rabid  “  Faction  des  Enrages which  has 
given  orthodox  Patriotism  some  umbrage,  of  late  months.  To 
“  know  a  Suspect  on  the  streets ;  ”  what  is  this  but  bringing 
the  Law  of  the  Suspect  itself  into  ill  odor  ?  Men  half-frantic, 
men  zealous  overmuch, — they  toil  there,  in  their  red  night¬ 
caps,  restlessly,  rapidly,  accomplishing  what  of  Life  is  allotted 
them. 

And  the  Forty-four  Thousand  other  Townships,  each  with 
Revolutionary  Committee,  based  on  J acobin  Daughter  Society ; 
enlightened  by  the  spirit  of  Jacobinism;  quickened  by  the 
Forty  Sous  a  day  !  —  The  French  Constitution  spurned  always 
at  anything  like  Two  Chambers ;  and  yet,  behold,  has  it  not 
verily  got  Two  Chambers  ?  National  Convention,  elected,  for 
one  ;  Mother  of  Patriotism,  self-elected,  for  another  !  Mother 
of  Patriotism  has  her  Debates  reported  in  the  Moniteur ,  as 
important  state-procedures ;  which  indisputably  they  are.  A 
Second  Chamber  of  Legislature  we  call  this  Mother  Society ;  — 
if  perhaps  it  were  not  rather  comparable  to  that  old  Scotch 
Body  named  Lords  of  the  Articles ,  without  whose  origination, 
and  signal  given,  the  so-called  Parliament  could  introduce  no 
bill,  could  do  no  work  ?  Robespierre  himself,  whose  words  are 
a  law,  opens  his  incorruptible  lips  copiously  in  the  Jacobins 
Hall.  Smaller  Council  of  Salut  Public ,  Greater  Council  of 
Surete  Generale,  all  active  Parties,  come  here  to  plead ;  to 
shape  beforehand  what  decision  they  must  arrive  at,  what 


Chap.  Y.  LIKE  A  THUNDER-CLOUD.  877 

Brum.]  Nov. 

destiny  they  have  to  expect.  Now  if  a  question  arose,  Which 
of  those  Two  Chambers,  Convention,  or  Lords  of  the  Articles, 
was  the  stronger  ?  Happily  they  as  yet  go  hand  in  hand. 

As  for  the  National  Convention,  truly  it  has  become  a  most 
composed  Body.  Quenched  now  the  old  effervescence ;  the 
Seventy-three  locked  in  ward  ;  once  noisy  Friends  of  the 
Girondins  sunk  all  into  silent  men  of  the  Plain,  called  even 
.“  Frogs  of  the  Marsh,”  Crapauds  du  Marais !  Addresses 
come,  Revolutionary  Church-plunder  comes ;  Deputations, 
with  prose  or  strophes :  these  the  Convention  receives.  But 
beyond  this,  the  Convention  has  one  thing  mainly  to  do :  to 
listen  what  Salut  Public  proposes,  and  say,  Yea. 

Bazire  followed  by  Chabot,  with  some  impetuosity,  declared, 
one  morning,  that  this  was  not  the  way  of  a  Free  Assembly. 
“  There  ought  to  be  an  Opposition  side,  a  Cote  Droit,”  cried 
Chabot :  “  if  none  else  will  form  it,  I  will.  People  say  to  me, 
You  will  all  get  guillotined  in  your  turn,  first  you  and  Bazire, 
then  Danton,  then  Robespierre  himself.”  1  So  spake  the  Dis¬ 
frocked,  with  a  loud  voice :  next  week,  Bazire  and  he  lie  in 
the  Abbaye ;  wending,  one  may  fear,  towards  Tinville  and  the 
Axe;  and  “people  say  to  me”  —  what  seems  to  be  proving 
true  !  Bazire’s  blood  was  all  inflamed  with  Revolution  Fever ; 
with  coffee  and  spasmodic  dreams.2  Chabot,  again,  how  happy 
with  his  rich  Jew- Austrian  wife,  late  Fraulein  Frev  !  But  he 
lies  in  Prison ;  and  his  two  Jew- Austrian  Brothers-in-Law, 
the  Bankers  Frey,  lie  with  him ;  waiting  the  urn  of  doom. 
Let  a  National  Convention,  therefore,  take  warning,  and  know 
its  function.  Let  the  Convention,  all  as  one  man,  set  its 
shoulder  to  the  Avork ;  not  Avith  bursts  of  Parliamentary  elo¬ 
quence,  but  in  quite  other  and  serviceabler  ways  ! 

Convention  Commissioners,  what  we  ought  to  call  Repre¬ 
sentatives,  u  Representans  on  mission,”  fly,  like  the  Herald 
Mercury,  to  all  points  of  the  Territory  ;  carrying  your  be¬ 
hests  far  and  wide.  In  their  “  round  hat,  plumed  Avith  tri¬ 
color  feathers,  girt  with  flowing  tricolor  taffeta ;  in  close 
frock,  tricolor  sash,  SAvord  and  jack-boots,”  these  men  are 

1  D&bats,  (lu  10  Novembre,  1793. 

2  Dictionnaire  des  TIommes  Marquans,  i.  115. 


878  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Boo*  AVII1 

1793  [Year  2. 

powerfuler  than  King  or  Kaiser.  They  say  to  whomso 
they  meet,  Do ;  and  he  must  do  it :  all  men’s  goods  are  at 
their  disposal ;  for  France  is  as  one  huge  City  in  Siege. 
They  smite  with  Requisitions  and  Forced-loan;  they  have 
the  power  of  life  and  death.  Saint- Just  and  Lebas  order 
the  rich  classes  of  Strasburg  to  “strip  off  their  shoes,”  and 
send  them  to  the  Armies,  where  as  many  as  “  ten  thousand 
pairs  ”  are  needed.  Also,  that  within  four-and-twenty  hours, 
“  a  thousand  beds  ”  be  got  ready  : 1  wrapt  in  matting,  and  sent 
under  way.  For  the  time  presses  !  —  Like  swift  bolts,  issu¬ 
ing  from  the  fuliginous  Olympus  of  Salut  Public ,  rush  these 
men,  oftenest  in  pairs ;  scatter  your  thunder-orders  over 
France ;  make  France  one  enormous  Revolutionary  thunder¬ 
cloud. 

-  o - 

4  CHARTER  VI. 

DO  THY  DUTY. 

Accordingly,  alongside  of  these  bonfires  of  Church-balus¬ 
trades,  and  sounds  of  fusillading  and  noyading,  there  rise 
quite  another  sort  of  fires  and  sounds :  Smithy-fires  and 
Proof-volleys  for  the  manufacture  of  arms. 

Cut  off  from  Sweden  and  the  world,  the  Republic  must 
learn  to  make  steel  for  itself ;  and,  by  aid  of  Chemists,  she 
has  learnt  it.  Towns  that  knew  only  iron,  now  know  steel : 
from  their  new  dungeons  at  Chantilly,  Aristocrats  may  hear 
the  rustle  of  our  new  steel  furnace  there.  Do  not  bells 
transmute  themselves  into  cannon ;  iron  stanchions  into  the 
white-weapon  (arme  blanche ),  by  sword- cutlery  ?  The  wheels 
of  Langres  scream,  amid  their  sputtering  fire-halo  ;  grinding 
mere  swords.  The  stithies  of  Charleville  ring  with  gun¬ 
making.  What  say  we,  Charleville  ?  Two  hundred  and 
fifty-eight  Forges  stand  in  the  open  spaces  of  Paris  itself ; 
a  hundred  and  forty  of  them  in  the  Esplanade  of  the  Inva- 
lides,  fifty -four  in  the  Luxembourg  Garden :  so  many  Forges 

1  Moniteur,  du  27  Novembre,  1793. 


DO  THY  DUTY. 


379 


Chap.  VI. 

Year  2]  1793-94. 

stand;  grim  Smiths  beating  and  forging  at  lock  and  barrel 
there.  The  Clockmakers  have  come,  requisitioned,  to  do 
the  touch-holes,  the  hard-solder  and  file-work.  Five  great 
Barges  swing  at  anchor  on  the  Seine  Stream,  loud  with 
boring;  the  great  press-drills  grating  harsh  thunder  to  the 
general  ear  and  heart.  And  deft  Stock-makers  do  gouge 
and  rasp ;  and  all  men  bestir  themselves,  according  to  their 
cunning: — in  the  language  of  hope,  it  is  reckoned  that  “a 
thousand  finished  muskets  can  be  delivered  daily.”  1  Chem¬ 
ists  of  the  Republic  have  taught  us  miracles  of  swift  tan¬ 
ning;2  the  cordwainer  bores  and  stitches; — not  of  “wood  and 
pasteboard,”  or  he  shall  answer  it  to  Tinville !  The  women 
sew  tents  and  coats,  the  children  scrape  surgeon’s-lint,  the 
old  men  sit  in  the  market-places ;  able  men  are  on  march ; 
all  men  in  requisition :  from  Town  to  Town  flutters,  on  the 
Heaven’s  winds,  this  Banner,  The  French  People  risen 
against  Tyrants. 

All  which  is  well.  But  now  arises  the  question :  What 
is  to  be  done  for  saltpetre  ?  Interrupted  Commerce  and  the 
English  Navy  shut  us  out  from  saltpetre  ;  and  without  salt¬ 
petre  there  is  no  gunpowder.  Republican  Science  again  sits 
meditative ;  discovers  that  saltpetre  exists  here  and  there, 
though  in  attenuated  quantity ;  that  old  plaster  of  walls  holds 
a  sprinkling  of  it ;  —  that  the  earth  of  the  Paris  Cellars  holds 
a  sprinkling  of  it,  diffused  through  the  common  rubbish ;  that 
were  these  dug  up  and  washed,  saltpetre  might  be  had. 
Whereupon,  swiftly,  see !  the  Citoyens,  with  upshoved  bonnet 
rouge ,  or  with  doffed  bonnet,  and  hair  toil-wetted ;  digging 
fiercely,  each  in  his  own  cellar,  for  saltpetre.  The  Earth-heap 
rises  at  every  door  ;  the  Citoyennes  with  hod  and  bucket 
carrying  it  up ;  the  Citoyens,  pith  in  every  muscle,  shovelling 
and  digging :  for  life  and  saltpetre.  Dig,  my  braves ;  and 
right  well  speed  ye !  What  of  saltpetre  is  essential  the  Re¬ 
public  shall  not  want. 

Consummation  of  Sansculottism  has  many  aspects  and 
tints :  but  the  brightest  tint,  really  of  a  solar  or  stellar 
1  Choix  des  Rapports,  xiii.  189.  2  lb.  xv.  360. 


380  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793-94  [Year  2. 

brightness,  is  this  which  the  Armies  give  it.  That  same 
fervor  of  Jacobinism,  which  internally  fills  France  with 
hatreds,  suspicions,  scaffolds  and  Reason-worship,  does,  on 
the  Frontiers,  show  itself  as  a  glorious  Pro  pati'ia  mori.  Ever 
since  Dumouriez’s  defection,  three  Convention  Representa¬ 
tives  attend  every  General.  Committee  of  Salut  has  sent 
them  ;  often  with  this  Laconic  order  only :  “  Do  thy  duty, 
Pais  ton  devoir.”  .  It  is  strange,  under  what  impediments  the 
fire  of  Jacobinism,  like  other  such  fires,  will  burn.  These 
Soldiers  have  shoes  of  wood  and  pasteboard,  or  go  booted  in 
hay-ropes,  in  dead  of  winter  ;  they  skewer  a  bast  mat  round 
their  shoulders,  and  are  destitute  of  most  things.  What  then  ? 
It  is  for  Rights  of  Frenchhood,  of  Manhood,  that  they  fight : 
the  unquenchable  spirit,  here  as  elsewhere,  works  miracles. 
“  With  steel  and  bread,”  says  the  Convention  Representative, 
“one  may  get  to  China.”  The  Generals  go  fast  to  the  guil¬ 
lotine  ;  justly  and  unjustly.  From  which  what  inference  ? 
This,  among  others:  That  ill-success  is  death;  that  in  victory 
alone  is  life  !  To  conquer  or  die  is  no  theatrical  palabra,  in 
these  circumstances,  but  a  practical  truth  and  necessity.  All 
Girondism,  Halfness,  Compromise  is  swept  away.  Forward, 
ye  Soldiers  of  the  Republic,  captain  and  man  !  Dash,  with 
your  Gaelic  impetuosity,  on  Austria,  England,  Prussia,  Spain, 
Sardinia;  Pitt,  Cobourg,  York,  and  the  Devil  and  the  World  ! 
Behind  us  is  but  the  Guillotine  ;  before  us  is  Victory,  Apotheo¬ 
sis  and  Millennium  without  end ! 

See,  accordingly,  on  all  Frontiers,  how  the  Sons  of  Night, 
astonished  after  short  triumph,  do  recoil ;  —  the  Sons  of  the 
Republic  flying  at  them,  with  wild  Ca-ira  or  Marseillese 
Aux  armes,  with  the  temper  of  cat-o'-mountain,  or  demon 
incarnate ;  which  no  Son  of  Night  can  stand  !  Spain,  which 
came  bursting  through  the  Pyrenees,  rustling  with  Bourbon 
banners,  and  went  conquering  here  and  there  for  a  season, 
falters  at  such  cat-o’-mountain  welcome  ;  draws  itself  in 
again ;  too  happy  now  were  the  Pyrenees  impassable.  Not 
only  does  Dugommier,  conqueror  of  Toulon,  drive  Spain  back ; 
he  invades  Spain.  General  Dugommier  invades  it  by  the  East¬ 
ern  Pyrenees  ;  General  Muller  shall  invade  it  by  the  Western. 


Chap.  VI.  DO  THY  DUTY.  381 

Year  2]  1793-94. 

Shall,  that  is  the  word :  Committee  of  Salut  Public  has  said 
it ;  Representative  Cavaignac,  on  mission  there,  must  see  it 
done.  Impossible  !  cries  Miiller.  —  Infallible  !  answers  Ca- 
vaignac.  Difficulty,  impossibility,  is  to  no  purpose.  “  The 
Committee  is  deaf  on  that  side  of  its  head,”  answers  Cavaignac, 
“  n’entend  pas  de  cette  oreille  la.  How  many  wantest  thou  of 
men,  of  horses,  cannons  ?  Thou  shalt  have  them.  Conquer¬ 
ors,  conquered  or  hanged,  forward  we  must.”  1  Which  things 
also,  even  as  the  Representatives  spake  them,  were  done.  The 
Spring  of  the  new  Year  sees  Spain  invaded :  and  redoubts  are 
carried,  and  Passes  and  Heights  of  the  most  scarped  descrip¬ 
tion  ;  Spanish  Pield-officerism  struck  mute  at  such  cat-o’- 
mountain  spirit,  the  cannon  forgetting  to  fire.2  Swept  are  the 
Pyrenees ;  Town  after  Town  flies  open,  burst  by  terror  or 
the  petard.  In  the  course  of  another  year,  Spain  will  crave 
Peace  ;•  acknowledge  its  sins  and  the  Republic ;  nay,  in  Madrid, 
there  will  be  joy  as  for  a  victory,  that  even  Peace  is  got. 

Pew  things,  we  repeat,  can  be  notabler  than  these  Conven¬ 
tion  Representatives,  with  their  power  more  than  kingly. 
Hay  at  bottom  are  they  not  kings,  Able-men,  of  a  sort ;  chosen 
from  the  Seven  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  French  Kings  ;  with 
this  order,  Do  thy  duty  ?  Representative  Levasseur,  of  small 
stature,  by  trade  a  mere  pacific  Surgeon-Accoucheur,  has 
mutinies  to  quell ;  mad  hosts  (mad  at  the  Doom  of  Custine) 
bellowing  far  and  wide ;  he  alone  amid  them,  the  one  small 
Representative,  —  small,  but  as  hard  as  flint,  which  also  car¬ 
ries  fire  in  it !  So  too,  at  Hondschooten,  far  in  the  afternoon, 
he  declares  that  the  Battle  is  not  lost ;  that  it  must  be  gained ; 
and  fights,  himself,  with  his  own  obstetric  hand  ;  —  horse 
shot  under  him,  or  say  on  foot,  “  up  to  the  haunches  in  tide¬ 
water;”  cutting  stoccado  and  passado  there,  in  defiance  of 
Water,  Earth,  Air  and  Fire,  the  choleric  little  Representative 
that  he  was  !  Whereby,  as  natural,  Royal  Highness  of  YYrk 

1  There  is,  in  Prudhomme,  an  atrocity  a  la  Captain-Kirk  reported  of  this 
Cavaignac;  which  has  been  copied  into  dictionaries  of  Homines  Mar  quarts,  of 
Biographie  Universelle,  &c. ;  which  not  only  has  no  truth  in  it,  but,  much  more 
singular,  is  still  capable  of  being  proved  to  have  none. 

2  Deux  Amis,  xiii.  205-230 ;  Toulongeon,  &c. 


382  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1793-94  [Year  2. 

had  to  withdraw,  —  occasionally  at  full  gallop  ;  like  to  he 
swallowed  by  the  tide  :  and  his  Siege  of  Dunkirk  became  a 
dream,  realizing  only  much  loss  of  beautiful  siege-artillery  and 
of  brave  lives.1 

General  Houchard,  it  would  appear,  stood  behind  a  hedge 
on  this  Hondschooten  occasion ;  wherefore  they  have  since 
guillotined  him.  A  new  General  Jourdan,  late  Sergeant  Jour- 
dan,  commands  in  his  stead  :  he,  in  long-winded  Battles  of 
Watigny,  “  murderous  artillery-fire  mingling  itself  with  sound 
of  Revolutionary  battle-hymns,”  forces  Austria  behind  the 
Sambre  again  ;  has  hopes  of  purging  the  soil  of  Liberty. 
With  hard  wrestling,  with  artillerying  and  ga-ira- ing,  it  shall 
be  done.  In  the  course  of  a  new  Summer,  Valenciennes  will 
see  itself  beleaguered  ;  Conde  beleaguered  ;  whatsoever  is  yet 
in  the  hands  of  Austria  beleaguered  and  bombarded :  nay,  by 
Convention  Decree,  we  even  summon  them  all  “  either  to  sur¬ 
render  in  twenty-four  hours,  or  else  be  put  to  the  sword ;  ”  — 
a  high  saying,  which,  though  it  remains  unfulfilled,  may  show 
what  spirit  one  is  of. 

Representative  Drouet,  as  an  Old-dragoon,  could  fight  by  a 
kind  of  second  nature  :  but  he  was  unlucky.  Him,  in  a  night- 
foray  at  Maubeuge,  the  Austrians  took  alive,  in  October  last. 
They  stript  him  almost  naked,  he  says  ;  making  a  show  of 
him,  as  King-taker  of  Varennes.  They  flung  him  into  carts  ; 
sent  him  far  into  the  interior  of  Cimmeria,  to  “  a  Fortress 
called  Spitzberg  ”  on  the  Danube  River ;  and  left  him  there,  at 
an  elevation  of  perhaps  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  to  his  own 
bitter  reflections.  Reflections  ;  and  also  devices  !  For  the 
indomitable  Old- dragoon  constructs  wing-machinery,  of  Paper- 
kite  ;  saws  window-bars  ;  determines  to  fly  down.  He  will 
seize  a  boat,  will  follow  the  River’s  course ;  land  somewhere  in 
Crim  Tartary,  in  the  Black-Sea  or  Constantinople  region :  a  la 
Sindbad  !  Authentic  History,  accordingly,  looking  far  into 
Cimmeria,  discerns  dimly  a  phenomenon.  In  the  dead  night- 
watches,  the  Spitzberg  sentry  is  near  fainting  with  terror  :  — 
Is  it  a  huge  vague  Portent  descending  through  the  night-air  ? 
It  is  a  huge  Rational  Representative  Old-dragoon,  descending 

1  Levasseur,  Memoires,  ii.  c.  2-7. 


DO  THY  DUTY. 


383 


Chap.  YI. 
Year  2]  1794. 


by  Paper-kite ;  too  rapidly,  alas  !  For  Drouet  bad  taken  with 
him  11  a  small  provision-store,  twenty  pounds  weight  or 
thereby ;  ”  which  proved  accelerative  :  so  he  fell,  fracturing 
his  leg ;  and  lay  there,  moaning,  till  day  dawned,  till  you 
could  discern  clearly  that  he  was  not  a  Portent  but  a  Kepre- 
sentative.1 

Or  see  Saint- Just,  in  the  Lines  of  Weissembourg,  though 
physically  of  a  timid  apprehensive  nature,  how  he  charges 
with  his  “  Alsacian  Peasants  armed  hastily  ”  for  the  nonce ; 
the  solemn  face  of  him  blazing  into  flame ;  his  black  hair  and 
tricolor  hat-taffeta  flowing  in  the  breeze  !  These  our  Lines  of 
Weissembourg  were  indeed  forced,  and  Prussia  and  the  Emi¬ 
grants  rolled  through:  but  we  re-force  the  Lines  of  Weissem¬ 
bourg;  and  Prussia  and  the  Emigrants  roll  back  again  still 
faster,  —  hurled  with  bayonet-charges  and  fiery  ga-ira-ing. 

Ci-devant  Sergeant  Pichegru,  ci-devant  Sergeant  Hoche,  risen 
now  to  be  Generals,  have  done  wonders  here.  Tall  Pichegru 
was  meant  for  the  Church ;  was  Teacher  of  Mathematics  once, 
in  Brienne  School,  —  his  remarkablest  Pupil  there  was  the 
Boy  Napoleon  Buonaparte.  He  then,  not  in  the  sweetest 
humor,  enlisted,  exchanging  ferula  for  musket ;  and  had  got 
the  length  of  the  halberd,  beyond  which  nothing  could  be 
hoped ;  when  the  Bastille  barriers  falling  made  passage  for 
him,  and  he  is  here.  Hoche  bore  a  hand  at  the  literal  over¬ 
turn  of  the  Bastille ;  he  was,  as  we  saw,  a  Sergeant  of  the 
Gardes  Franganses,  spending  his  pay  in  rushlights  and  cheap 
editions  of  books.  How  the  Mountains  are  burst,  and  many 
an  Enceladus  is  disimprisoned  ;  and  Captains  founding  on 
Pour  parchments  of  Nobility  are  blown  with  their  parchments 
across  the  Rhine,  into  Lunar  Limbo  ! 


What  high  feats  of  arms,  therefore,  were  done  in  these 
Fourteen  Armies ;  and  how,  for  love  of  Liberty  and  hope  of 
Promotion,  low-born  valor  cut  its  desperate  way  to  Generalship  ; 
and,  from  the  central  Carnot  in  Salict  Public  to  the  outmost 
drummer  on  the  Frontiers,  men  strove  for  their  Republic,  let 
Headers  fancy.  The  snows  of  Winter,  the  flowers  of  Summer 
1  His  Narrative  (iu  Deux  Amis,  xiv.  177-186). 


384  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

2794  [Year  2. 

continue  to  be  stained  with  warlike  blood.  Gaelic  impetuosity 
mounts  ever  higher  with  victory ;  spirit  of  Jacobinism  weds 
itself  to  national  vanity :  the  Soldiers  of  the  Republic  are 
becoming,  as  we  prophesied,  very  Sons  of  Fire.  Barefooted, 
barebacked :  but  with  bread  and  iron  you  can  get  to  China ! 
It  is  one  Nation  against  the  whole  world;  but  the  Nation  has 
that  within  her  which  the  whole  world  will  not  conquer. 
Cimmeria,  astonished,  recoils  faster  or  slower;  all  round  the 
Republic  there  rises  fiery,  as  it  were,  a  magic  ring  of  musket- 
volleying  and  qa-ira- ing.  Majesty  of  Prussia,  as  Majesty  of 
Spain,  will  by  and  by  acknowledge  his  sins  and  the  Republic ; 
and  make  a  Peace  of  Bale. 

Foreign  Commerce,  Colonies,  Factories  in  the  East  and  in 
the  West,  are  fallen  or  falling  into  the  hands  of  sea-ruling 
Pitt,  enemy  of  human  nature.  Nevertheless  what  sound  is 
this  that  we  hear,  on  the  first  of  June,  1794;  sound  as  of  war- 
thunder  borne  from  the  Ocean  too,  of  tone  most  piercing  ? 
War-tliunder  from  off  the  Brest  waters:  Villaret-Joyeuse  and 
English  Howe,  after  long  manoeuvring,  have  ranked  them¬ 
selves  there ;  and  are  belching  fire.  The  enemies  of  human 
nature  are  on  their  own  element ;  cannot  be  conquered ;  cannot 
be  kept  from  conquering.  Twelve  hours  of  raging  cannonade ; 
sun  now  sinking  westward  through  the  battle-smoke :  six 
French  Ships  taken,  the  Battle  lost ;  what  Ship  soever  can 
still  sail,  making  off !  But  how  is  it,  then,  with  that  Vengeur 
Ship,  she  neither  strikes  nor  makes  off  ?  She  is  lamed,  she 
cannot  make  off  ;  strike  she  will  not.  Fire  rakes  her  fore  and 
aft  from  victorious  enemies ;  the  Vengeur  is  sinking.  Strong 
are  ye,  Tyrants  of  the  sea ;  yet  we  also,  are  we  weak  ?  Lo  ! 
all  flags,  streamers,  jacks,  every  rag  of  tricolor  that  will  yet 
run  on  rope,  fly  rustling  aloft :  the  whole  crew  crowds  to  the 
upper  deck  ;  and  with  universal  soul-maddening  yell,  shouts 
Vive  la  Republique ,  —  sinking,  sinking.  She  staggers,  she 
lurches,  her  last  drunk  whirl ;  Ocean  yawns  abysmal :  down 
rushes  the  Vengeur ,  carrying  Vive  la  Republique  along  with 
her,  unconquerable,  into  Eternity.1  Let  foreign  Despots  think 

1  Compare  Barrere  ( Choix  des  Rappoi-ts,  xvi.  416-421) ;  Lord  Howe  ( An¬ 
nual  Registtr  of  1794,  p.  86),  &c. 


FLAME-PICTURE. 


385 


Chap.  YIT. 

Year  2]  1794. 

of  that.  There  is  an  Unconquerable  in  man,  when  he  stands 
on  his  Rights  of  Man :  let  Despots  and  Slaves  and  all  people 
know  this,  and  only  them  that  stand  on  the  Wrongs  of  Man 
tremble  to  know  it.  —  So  has  History  written,  nothing  doubt¬ 
ing,  of  the  sunk  Vengeur. 

—  Reader  !  Mendez  Pinto,  Munchausen,  Cagliostro,  Psal- 
manazar  have  been  great ;  but  they  are  not  the  greatest.  0 
Barrere,  Barrere,  Anacreon  of  the  Guillotine  !  must  inquisitive 
pictorial  History,  in  a  new  edition,  ask  again,  “  How  is  it  with 
the  Vengeur  ,”  in  this  its  glorious  suicidal  sinking;  and,  with 
resentful  brush,  dash  a  bend-sinister  of  contumelious  lamp¬ 
black  through  thee  and  it  ?  Alas,  alas !  The  Vengeur ,  after 
fighting  bravely,  did  sink  altogether  as  other  ships  do,  her 
captain  and  above  two  hundred  of  her  crew  escaping  gladly  in 
British  boats ;  and  this  same  enormous  inspiring  Feat,  and 
rumor  “  of  sound  most  piercing,”  turns  out  to  be  an  enormous 
inspiring  Non-entity,  extant  nowhere  save,  as  falsehood,  in 
the  brain  of  Barrere !  Actually  so.1  Founded,  like  the  World 
itself,  on  Nothing ;  proved  by  Convention  Report,  by  solemn 
Convention  Decree  and  Decrees,  and  wooden  “ Model  of  the 
Vengeur believed,  be  wept,  besung  by  the  whole  French 
People  to  this  hour,  it  may  be  regarded  as  Barrere’s  master¬ 
piece  ;  the  largest,  most  inspiring  piece  of  blague  manufactured, 
for  some  centuries,  by  any  man  or  nation.  As  such,  and  not 
otherwise,  be  it  henceforth  memorable. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FLAME-PICTURE. 

In  this  manner,  mad-blazing  with  flame  of  all  imaginable 
tints,  from  the  red  of  Tophet  to  the  stellar-bright,  blazes  off 
this  Consummation  of  Sansculottism. 

But  the  hundredth  part  of  the  things  that  were  done,  and 
the  thousandth  part  of  the  things  that  were  projected  and 

1  Carlyle’s  Miscellanies,  §  Sinking  of  the  Vengeur. 

25 


VOL.  IV. 


386  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1794  [Year  2. 

decreed  to  be  done,  would  tire  the  tongue  of  History.  Statue 
of  the  Peujple  Souverain ,  high  as  Strasburg  Steeple ;  which 
shall  fling  its  shadow  from  the  Pont  Neuf  over  Jardin  Na¬ 
tional  and  Convention  Hall ;  —  enormous,  in  Painter  David’s 
Head  !  With  other  the  like  enormous  Statues  not  a  few : 
realized  in  paper  Decree.  For,  indeed,  the  Statue  of  Liberty 
herself  is  still  but  Plaster,  in  the  Place  de  la  Revolution. 
Then  Equalization  of  Weights  and  Measures,  with  decimal 
division ;  Institutions,  of  Music  and  of  much  else ;  Institute 
in  general ;  School  of  Arts,  School  of  Mars,  Eleves  de  la  Patrie , 
Normal  Schools:  amid  such  Gun-boring,  Altar-burning,'  Salt¬ 
petre-digging,  and  miraculous  improvements  in  Tannery  ! 

What,  for  example,  is  this  that  Engineer  Chappe  is  doing, 
in  the  Park  of  Vincennes  ?  In  the  Park  of  Vincennes ;  and 
onwards,  they  say,  in  the  Park  of  Lepelletier  Saint-Fargeau 
the  assassinated  Deputy ;  and  still  onwards  to  the  Heights  of 
Ecouen  and  farther,  he  has  scaffolding  set  up,  has  posts  driven 
in ;  wooden  arms  with  elbow-joints  are  jerking  and  fugling  in 
the  air,  in  the  most  ^apid  mysterious  manner !  Citoyens  ran 
up,  suspicious.  Yes,  0  Citoyens,  we  are  signalling :  it  is  a 
device  this,  worthy  of  the  Republic ;  a  thing  for  what  we  will 
call  Far-writing  without  the  aid  of  post-bags  ;  in  Greek  it  shall 
be  named  Telegraph.  —  Telegraphe  sacre  !  answers  Citoyenism : 
For  writing  to  Traitors,  to  Austria  ?  —  and  tears  it  down. 
Chappe  had  to  escape,  and  get  a  new  Legislative  Decree. 
Nevertheless  he  has  accomplished  it,  the  indefatigable  Chappe  : 
this  his  Far-writer,  with  its  wooden  arms  and  elbow-joints,  can 
intelligibly  signal ;  and  lines  of  them  are  set  up,  to  the  North 
Frontiers  and  elsewhither.  On  an  Autumn  evening  of  the 
Year  Two,  Far-writer  having  just  written  that  Conde  Town 
has  surrendered  to  us,  we  send  from  the  Tuileries  Convention- 
Hall  this  response  in  the  shape  of  Decree :  “  The  name  of 
Conde  is  changed  to  Nord-Libre ,  North-Free.  The  Army  of . 
the  North  ceases  not  to  merit  well  of  the  country.”  —  To  the 
admiration  of  men  !  For  lo,  in  some  half-hour,  while  the  Con¬ 
vention  yet  debates,  there  arrives  this  new  answer :  “  I  inform 
thee,  je  t’annonce ,  Citizen  President,  that  the  Decree  of  Con¬ 
vention,  ordering  change  of  the  name  Conde  into  North-Free  ; 


Chap.  VII.  FLAME-PICTURE.  387 

Messidor  3]  June  20. 

and  the  other,  declaring  that  the  Army  of  the  North  ceases 
not  to  merit  well  of  the  country ;  are  transmitted  and  acknowl¬ 
edged  by  Telegraph.  I  have  instructed  my  Officer  at  Lille  to 
forward  them  to  North-Free  by  express.  Signed,  Chappe.”  1 

Or  see,  over  Fleurus  in  the  Netherlands,  where  General 
Jourdan,  having  now  swept  the  soil  of  Liberty,  and  advanced 
thus  far,  is  just  about  to  light,  and  sweep  or  be  swept,  hangs 
there  not  in  the  Heaven’s  Vault  some  Prodigy,  seen  by  Aus¬ 
trian  eyes  and  spy-glasses  :  in  the  similitude  of  an  enormous 
Wind-bag,  with  netting  and  enormous  Saucer  depending  from 
it?  A  Jove’s  Balance,  0  ye  Austrian  spy-glasses?  One  sau¬ 
cer  scale  of  a  Jove’s  Balance  ;  your  poor  Austrian  scale  hav¬ 
ing  kicked  itself  quite  aloft,  out  of  sight  ?  By  Heaven, 
answer  the  spy-glasses,  it  is  a  Montgolfier,  a  Balloon,  and  they 
are  making  signals  !  Austrian  cannon-battery  barks  at  this 
Montgolfier;  harmless  as  dog  at  the  Moon:  the  Montgolfier 
makes  its  signals;  detects  what  Austrian  ambuscade  there 
may  be,  and  descends  at  its  ease.2  —  What  will  not  these 
devils  incarnate  contrive  ? 

On  the  whole,  is  it  not,  0  Reader,  one  of  the  strangest 
Flame-Pictures  that  ever  painted  itself ;  flaming  off  there,  on 
its  ground  of  Guillotine-black  ?  And  the  nightly  Theatres  are 
Twenty-three ;  and  the  Salons  de  danse  are  Sixty ;  full  of 
mere  J^galite,  Fraternite  and  Carmagnole.  And  Section  Com¬ 
mittee-rooms  are  Forty-eight ;  redolent  of  tobacco  and  brandy  : 
vigorous  with  twenty-pence  a  day,  coercing  the  Suspect.  And 
the  Houses  of  Arrest  are  Twelve,  for  Paris  alone  ;  crowded 
and  even  crammed.  And  at  all  turns,  you  need  your  “  Certifi¬ 
cate  of  Civism ;  ”  be  it  for  going  out,  or  for  coming  in ;  nay 
without  it  you  cannot,  for  money,  get  your  daily  ounces  of 
bread.  Dusky  red-capped  Bakers’-queues ;  wagging  them¬ 
selves  ;  not  in  silence  !  For  we  still  live  by  Maximum,  in  all 
things  ;  waited  on  by  these  two,  Scarcity  and  Confusion.  The 
faces  of  men  are  darkened  with  suspicion ;  with  suspecting,  or 
being  suspect.  The  streets  lie  unswept ;  the  ways  unmended. 

1  Choix  des  Rapports,  xv.  378,  384. 

2  26th  June,  1794  (see  Rapport  de  Guyton-Morveau  sur  les  Aerostats,  in 
Moniteur  du  6  Vendemiaire,  An  2). 


388  TERROR  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  DAY.  Book  XVIII. 

1794  [Year  2. 

Law  has  shut  her  Books ;  speaks  little,  save  impromptu, 
through  the  throat  of  Tinville.  Crimes  go  unpunished  ;  not 
crimes  against  the  Revolution.1  “  The  number  of  foundling 
children,”  as  some  compute,  “  is  doubled.” 

How  silent  now  sits  Royalism  ;  sits  all  Aristocratism ;  Re¬ 
spectability  that  kept  its  Gig!  The  honor  now,  and  the 
safety,  is  to  Poverty,  not  to  Wealth.  Your  Citizen,  who 
would  be  fashionable,  walks  abroad,  with  his  Wife  on  his  arm, 
in  red  wool  nightcap,  black-shag  spencer,  and  carmagnole  com¬ 
plete.  Aristocratism  crouches  low,  in  what  shelter  is  still 
left ;  submitting  to  all  requisitions,  vexations ;  too  happy  to 
escape  with  life.  Ghastly  chateaus  stare  on  you  by  the  way- 
side;  disroofed,  dis windowed ;  which  the  National  House- 
broker  is  peeling  for  the  lead  and  ashlar.  The  old  tenants 
hover  disconsolate,  over  the  Rhine  with  Conde  ;  a  spectacle  to 
men.  Ci-devant  Seigneur,  exquisite  in  palate,  will  become  an 
exquisite  Restaurateur  Cook  in  Hamburg ;  Ci-devant  Madame, 
exquisite  in  dress,  a  successful  Marchande  des  Modes  in  Lon¬ 
don.  In  Newgate  Street,  you  meet  M.  le  Marquis,  with  a 
rough  deal  on  his  shoulder,  adze  and  jack-plane  under  arm  ;  he 
has  taken  to  the  joiner  trade ;  it  being  necessary  to  live  ( faut 
vivre ).2  —  Higher  than  all  Frenchmen  the  domestic  Stock¬ 
jobber  flourishes,  —  in  a  day  of  Paper-money.  The  Farmer 
also  flourishes  :  “  Farmers’  houses,”  says  Mercier,  “  have  be¬ 
come  like  Pawnbrokers’  shops ;  ”  all  manner  of  furniture, 
apparel,  vessels  of  gold  and  silver  accumulate  themselves 
there  :  bread  is  precious.  The  Farmer’s  rent  is  Paper-money, 
and  he  alone  of  men  has  bread  :  Farmer  is  better  than  Land¬ 
lord,  and  will  himself  become  Landlord. 

And  daily,  we  say,  like  a  black  SjDectre,  silently  through 
that  Life-tumult,  passes  the  Revolution  Cart ;  writing  on  the 
walls  its  Mene,  Mexe,  Thou  art  weighed ,  and  found  wanting  ! 
A  Spectre  with  which  one  has  grown  familiar.  Men  have 
adjusted  themselves  :  complaint  issues  not  from  that  Death- 
tumbril.  Weak  women  and  ci-devants,  their  plumage  and 

1  Mercier,  v.  25  ;  Deux  Amis,  xii.  142-199. 

2  See  Deux  Amis,  xv.  189-192  •  M&noires  de  Genlis ;  Founders  of  the  French 
Republic,  &c.  &c. 


Chap.  VII.  FLAME-PICTURE.  389 

Year  2]  1794. 

finery  all  tarnished,  sit  there ;  with  a  silent  gaze,  as  if  looking 
into  the  Infinite  Black.  The  once  light  lip  wears  a  curl  of 
irony,  uttering  no  word ;  and  the  Tumbril  fares  along.  They 
may  be  guilty  before  Heaven,  or  not ;  they  are  guilty,  we  sup¬ 
pose,  before  the  Revolution.  Then,  does  not  the  Republic 
“coin  money”  of  them,  with  its  great  axe?  Red  Nightcaps 
howl  dire  approval :  the  rest  of  Paris  looks  on  ;  if  with  a  sigh, 
that  is  much :  Fellow-creatures  whom  sighing  cannot  help  ; 
whom  black  Necessity  and  Tinville  have  clutched. 

One  other  thing,  or  rather  two  other  things,  we  will  still 
mention  ;  and  no  more  :  The  Blonde  Perukes  ;  the  Tannery  at 
Meudon.  Great  talk  is  of  these  Perruques  blondes :  0  Reader, 
they  are  made  from  the  Heads  of  Guillotined  women  !  The 
locks  of  a  Duchess,  in  this  way,  may  come  to  cover  the  scalp 
of  a  Cordwainer;  her  blonde  German  Frankism  his  black 
Gaelic  poll,  if  it  be  bald.  Or  they  may  be  worn  affectionately, 
as  relics  ;  rendering  one  suspect  ?  1  Citizens  use  them,  not 
without  mockery ;  of  a  rather  cannibal  sort. 

Still  deeper  into  one’s  heart  goes  that  Tannery  at  Meu¬ 
don  ;  not  mentioned  among  the  other  miracles  of  tanning ! 
“  At  Meudon,”  says  Montgaillard  with  considerable  calmness, 
“  there  was  a  Tannery  of  Human  Skins ;  such  of  the  Guillo¬ 
tined  as  seemed  worth  flaying  :  of  which  perfectly  good  wash- 
leather  was  made ;  ”  for  breeches,  and  other  uses.  The  skin 
of  the  men,  he  remarks,  was  superior  in  toughness  (eonsistance) 
and  quality  to  shamoy ;  that  of  the  women  was  good  for  al¬ 
most  nothing,  being  so  soft  in  texture  ! 2  —  History  looking 
back  over  Cannibalism,  through  Purchas’s  Pilgrims  and  all 
early  and  late  Records,  will  perhaps  find  no  terrestrial  Canni¬ 
balism  of  a  sort,  on  the  whole,  so  detestable.  It  is  a  manu¬ 
factured,  soft-feeling,  quietly  elegant  sort ;  a  sort  jperjide ! 
Alas,  then,  is  man’s  civilization  only  a  wrappage,  through 
which  the  savage  nature  of  him  can  still  burst,  infernal  as 
ever  ?  Nature  still  makes  him  ;  and  has  an  Infernal  in  her  as 
well  as  a  celestial. 


1  Mercier,  ii.  134. 


2  Montgaillard,  iv.  290. 


BOOK  XIX. 


THERMIDOR. 

- — 

»  y 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  GODS  ARE  ATHIRST. 

Wiiat,  then,  is  this  Thing  called  La  Revolution ,  which,  like 
an  Angel  of  Death,  hangs  over  France,  noyading,  fusillading, 
fighting,  gun-boring,  tanning  human  skins  ?  La  Revolution  is 
but  so  many  Alphabetic  Letters  ;  a  thing  nowhere  to  be  laid 
hands  on,  to  be  clapt  under  lock  and  key :  where  is  it  ?  what 
is  it  ?  It  is  the  Madness  that  dwells  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
In  this  man  it  is,  and  in  that  man ;  as  a  rage  or  as  a  terror, 
it  is  in  all  men.  Invisible,  impalpable ;  and  yet  no  black 
Azrael,  with  wings  spread  over  half  a  continent,  with  sword 
sweeping  from  sea  to  sea,  could  be  a  truer  Reality. 

To  explain,  what  is  called  explaining,  the  march  of  this 
Revolutionary  Government,  be  no  task  of  ours.  Man  cannot 
explain  it.  A  paralytic  Couthon,  asking  in  the  Jacobins, 
“What  hast  thou  done  to  be  hanged  if  Counter-Revolution 
should  arrive  ?  ”  a  sombre  Saint- Just,  not  yet  six-and-twenty, 
declaring  that  “  for  Revolutionists  there  is  no  rest  but  in  the 
tomb ;  ”  a  sea-green  Robespierre  converted  into  vinegar  and 
gall ;  much  more  an  Amar  and  Vadier,  a  Collot  and  Billaud : 
to  inquire  what  thoughts,  predetermination  or  prevision,  might 
be  in  the  head  of  these  men  !  Record  of  their  thought  remains 
not ;  Death  and  Darkness  have  swept  it  out  utterly.  Nay,  if 
we  even  had  their  thought,  all  that  they  could  have  articu¬ 
lately  spoken  to  us,  how  insignificant  a  fraction  were  that  of 
the  Thing  which  realized  itself,  which  decreed  itself,  on  signal 


Chap.  I.  THE  GODS  AEE  ATHIEST.  891 

Ventose]  March. 

given  by  them !  As  has  been  said  more  than  once,  this  Bevo- 
lutionary  Government  is  not  a  self-conscious  but  a  blind  fatal 
one.  Each  man,  enveloped  in  his  ambient-atmosphere  of  rev¬ 
olutionary  fanatic  Madness,  rushes  on,  impelled  and  impel¬ 
ling;  and  has  become  a  blind  brute  Force;  no  rest  for  him 
but  in  the  grave  !  Darkness  and  the  mystery  of  horrid  cru¬ 
elty  cover  it  for  us,  in  History ;  as  they  did  in  Nature.  The 
chaotic  Thunder-cloud,  with  its  pitchy  black,  and  its  tumult 
of  dazzling  jagged  fire,  in  a  world  all  electric  :  thou  wilt  not 
undertake  to  show  how  that  comported  itself,  —  what  the 
secrets  of  its  dark  womb  were ;  from  what  sources,  with  what 
specialties,  the  lightning  it  held  did,  in  confused  brightness 
of  terror,  strike  forth,  destructive  and  self-destructive,  till  it 
ended  ?  Like  a  Blackness  naturally  of  Erebus,  which  by  will 
of  Providence  had  for  once  mounted  itself  into  dominion  and 
the  Azure :  is  not  this  properly  the  nature  of  Sanseulottism 
consummating  itself  ?  Of  which  Erebus  Blackness  be  it 
enough  to  discern  that  this  and  the  other  dazzling  fire-bolt, 
dazzling  fire-torrent,  does  by  small  Volition  and  great  Neces¬ 
sity,  verily  issue,  —  in  such  and  such  succession  ;  destructive 
so  and  so,  self-destructive  so  and  so  :  till  it  end. 

Boyalism  is  extinct ;  “  sunk,”  as  they  say,  “  in  the  mud  of 
the  Loire  ;  ”  Bepublicanism  dominates  without  and  within : 
what,  therefore,  on  the  15th  day  of  March,  1794,  is  this  ? 
Arrestment,  sudden  really  as  a  bolt  out  of  the  Blue,  has  hit 
strange  victims :  Hebert  Pere  Duchesne,  Bibliopolist  Momoro, 
Clerk  Vincent,  General  Bonsin ;  high  Cordelier  Patriots,  red- 
capped  Magistrates  of  Paris,  Worshippers  of  Beason,  Com¬ 
manders  of  Bevolutionary  Army !  Eight  short  days  ago,  their 
Cordelier  Club  was  loud,  and  louder  than  ever,  with  Patriot 
denunciations.  Hebert  Pere  Duchesne  had  “  held  his  tongue 
and  his  heart  these  two  months,  at  sight  of  Moderates,  Crypto- 
Aristocrats,  Camilles,  Scelerats  in  the  Convention  itself :  but 
could  not  do  it  any  longer  ;  would,  if  other  remedy  were  not, 
invoke  the  sacred  right  of  Insurrection.”  So  spake  Hebert 
in  Cordelier  Session ;  with  vivats,  till  the  roofs  rang  again.1 

1  Moniteur,  du  17  Ventose  (7th  March),  1794. 


392 


TIIERMIDOR. 


;ix. 

17i>4  L  ir  2. 

Eight  short  days  ago ;  and  now  already !  They  rub  their 
eyes :  it  is  no  dream ;  they  find  themselves  in  the  Luxem¬ 
bourg.  Goose  Gobel  too ;  and  they  that  burnt  Churches ! 
Chaumette  himself,  potent  Procureur,  Agent  National  as  they 
now  call  it,  who  could  “  recognize  the  Suspect  by  the  very  face 
of  them,”  he  lingers  but  three  days ;  on  the  third  day  he  too 
is  hurled  in.  Most  chopf alien,  blue,  enters  the  National  Agent 
this  Limbo  whither  he  has  sent  so  many.  Prisoners  crowd 
round,  gibing  and  jeering;  “Sublime  National  Agent,”  says 
one,  “  in  virtue  of  thy  immortal  Proclamation,  lo  there  !  I 
am  suspect,  thou  art  suspect,  he  is  suspect,  we  are  suspect,  ye 
are  suspect,  they  are  suspect !  ” 

The  meaning  of  these  things  ?  Meaning !  It  is  a  Plot ; 
Plot  of  the  most  extensive  ramifications ;  which,  however, 
Barrere  holds  the  threads  of.  Such  Church-burning  and  scan¬ 
dalous  masquerades  of  Atheism,  fit  to  make  the  Revolution 
odious  :  where  indeed  could  they  originate  but  in  the  gold  of 
Pitt?  Pitt  indubitably,  as  Preternatural  Insight  will  teach 
one,  did  hire  this  faction  of  Enrages,  to  play  their  fantastic 
tricks  ;  to  roar  in  their  Cordeliers  Club  about  Moderatism  ; 
to  print  their  Pere  Duchesne ;  worship  sky-blue  Reason  in 
red  nightcap  ;  rob  Altars,  —  and  bring  the  spoil  to  us  ! 

Still  more  indubitable,  visible  to  the  mere  bodily  sight,  is 
this  :  that  the  Cordeliers  Club  sits  pale,  with  anger  and  ter¬ 
ror  ;  and  has  “  veiled  the  Rights  of  Man,”  —  without  effect. 
Likewise  that  the  Jacobins  are  in  considerable  confusion; 
busy  “purging  themselves,  s’epurant ,”  as  in  times  of  Plot 
and  public  Calamity  they  have  repeatedly  had  to  do.  Not 
even  Camille  Desmoulins  but  has  given  offence :  nay  there 
have  risen  murmurs  against  Danton  himself ;  though  he  bel¬ 
lowed  them  down,  and  Robespierre  finished  the  matter  by 
“embracing  him  in  the  Tribune.” 

Whom  shall  the  Republic  and  a  jealous  Mother  Society 
trust  ?  In  these  times  of  temptation,  of  Preternatural  In¬ 
sight  !  For  there  are  Pactions  of  the  Stranger,  “  de  V etranger” 
Factions  of  Moderates,  of  Enraged ;  all  manner  of  Factions  : 
we  walk  in  a  world  of  Plots  ;  strings  universally  spread,  of 
deadly  gins  and  fall-traps,  baited  by  the  gold  of  Pitt !  Clootz, 


Chap.  I.  THE  GODS  ARE  ATHIRST.  393 

Ventose]  March. 

Speaker  of  Mankind  so  called,  with,  his  Evidences  of  Mahome¬ 
tan  Religion ,  and  babble  of  Universal  Republic,  him  an  in¬ 
corruptible  Robespierre  has  purged  away.  Baron  Clootz,  and 
Paine  rebellious  Reedleman  lie,  these  two  months,  in  the  Lux¬ 
embourg;  limbs  of  the  Faction  de  Vetranger.  Representative 
Phelippeaux  is  purged  out :  he  came  back  from  La  Vendee 
with  an  ill  report  in  his  mouth  against  rogue  Rossignol,  and 
our  method  of  warfare  there.  Recant  it,  O  Phelippeaux,  we 
entreat  thee !  Phelippeaux  will  not  recant ;  and  is  purged 
out.  Representative  Fabre  d’Eglantine,  famed  Nomenclator 
of  Romme’s  Calendar,  is  purged  out;  nay,  is  cast  into  the 
Luxembourg :  accused  of  Legislative  Swindling  “  in  regard  to 
moneys  of  the  India  Company.”  There  with  his  Chabots, 
Bazires,  guilty  of  the  like,  let  Fabre  wait  his  destiny.  And 
Westermann  friend  of  Danton,  he  who  led  the  Marseillese  on 
the  Tenth  of  August,  and  fought  well  in  La  Vendee,  but  spoke 
not  well  of  rogue  Rossignol,  is  purged  out.  Lucky,  if  he  too 
go  not  to  the  Luxembourg.  And  your  Prolys,  Guzmans,  of 
the  Faction  of  the  Stranger,  they  have  gone ;  Pereyra,  though 
he  fled,  is  gone,  “  taken  in  the  disguise  of  a  Tavern  Cook.” 
I  am  suspect,  thou  art  suspect,  he  is  suspect !  — 

The  great  heart  of  Danton  is  weary  of  it.  Danton  is  gone 
to  native  Arcis,  for  a  little  breathing-time  of  peace  :  Away, 
black  Arachne-webs,  thou  world  of  Fury,  Terror  and  Suspicion ; 
welcome,  thou  everlasting  Mother,  with  thy  spring  greenness, 
thy  kind  household  loves  and  memories ;  true  art  thou,  were 
all  else  untrue  !  The  great  Titan  walks  silent,  by  the  banks  of 
the  murmuring  Aube,  in  young  native  haunts  that  knew  him 
when  a  boy  ;  wonders  what  the  end  of  these  things  may  be. 

But  strangest  of  all,  Camille  Desmoulins  is  purged  out. 
Couthon  gave  as  a  test  in  regard  to  Jacobin  purgation  the 
question,  “  What  hast  thou  done  to  be  hanged  if  Counter 
Revolution  should  arrive  ?  ”  Yet  Camille,  who  could  so  well 
answer  this  question,  is  purged  out !  The  truth  is,  Camille, 
early  in  December  last,  began  publishing  a  new  Journal,  or 
Series  of  Pamphlets,  entitled  the  Vieux  Cordelier ,  Old  Corde¬ 
lier.  Camille,  not  afraid  at  one  time  to  “  embrace  Liberty  on 
a  heap  of  dead  bodies,”  begins  to  ask  now,  Whether  among 


394  THEKMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

so  many  arresting  and  punishing  Committees,  there  ought  not 
to  be  a  “ Committee  of  Mercy”?  Saint- Just,  he  observes,  is 
an  extremely  solemn  young  Republican,  who  “  carries  his  head 
as  if  it  were  a  Saint- Sacrement,”  adorable  Hostie,  or  divine 
Real-Presence  !  Sharply  enough,  this  old  Cordelier  —  Danton 
and  he  were  of  the  earliest  primary  Cordeliers  —  shoots  his 
glittering  war-shafts  into  your  new  Cordeliers,  your  Heberts, 
Momoros,  with  their  brawling  brutalities  and  despicabilities ; 
say,  as  the  Sun-god  (for  poor  Camille  is  a  Poet)  shot  into  that 
Python  Serpent  sprung  of  mud. 

Whereat,  as  was  natural,  the  Hebertist  Python  did  hiss  and 
writhe  amazingly ;  and  threaten  “  sacred  right  of  Insurrec¬ 
tion  ;  ”  —  and,  as  we  saw,  get  cast  into  Prison.  Nay,  with  all 
the  old  wit,  dexterity  and  light  graceful  poignancy,  Camille, 
translating  “  out  of  Tacitus ,  from  the  Reign  of  Tiberius,” 
pricks  into  the  Laic  of  the  Susjiect  itself ;  making  it  odious ! 
Twice,  in  the  Decade,  his  wild  Leaves  issue  ;  full  of  wit,  nay 
of  humor,  of  harmonious  ingenuity  and  insight,  —  one  of  the 
strangest  phenomena  of  that  dark  time  ;  and  smite,  in  their 
wild-sparkling  way,  at  various  monstrosities,  Saint-Sacrament 
heads,  and  Juggernaut  idols,  in  a  rather  reckless  manner.  To 
the  great  joy  of  Josephine  Beauharnais,  and  the  other  Five 
Thousand  and  odd  Suspect,  who  fill  the  Twelve  Houses  of 
Arrest ;  on  whom  a  ray  of  hope  dawns  !  Robespierre,  at  first 
approbatory,  knew  not  at  last  what  to  think ;  then  thought, 
with  his  Jacobins,  that  Camille  must  be  expelled.  A  man  of 
true  Revolutionary  spirit,  this  Camille  ;  but  with  the  unwisest 
sallies ;  whom  Aristocrats  and  Moderates  have  the  art  to 
corrupt !  Jacobinism  is  in  uttermost  crisis  and  struggle  ;  en¬ 
meshed  wholly  in  plots,  corruptibilities,  neck-gins  and  baited 
fall-traps  of  Pitt  ennemi  du  genre  humain.  Camille’s  First 
Number  begins  with  “0  Pitt !  ”  —  his  last  is  dated  15  Pluviose, 
Year  2,  3d  February,  1794;  and  ends  with  these  words  of 
Montezuma’s,  u  Les  dieuxont  soif,  The  gods  are  athirst.” 


Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Hebertists  lie  in  Prison  only  some 
nine  days.  On  the  24th  of  March,  therefore,  the  Revolution 
Tumbrils  carry  through  that  Life-tumult  a  new  cargo :  Hebert 


Chap.  I.  THE  GODS  ARE  ATHIRST.  395 

Germ.  4]  March  24. 

Vincent,  Momoro,  Ronsin,  Nineteen  of  them  in  all ;  with 
whom,  curious  enough,  sits  Clootz  Speaker  of  Mankind.  They 
have  been  massed  swiftly  into  a  lump,  this  miscellany  of  Non¬ 
descripts  ;  and  travel  now  their  last  road.  No  help.  They 
too  “must  look  through  the  little  window;  ”  they  too  “must 
sneeze  into  the  sack/’  eternuer  dans  le  sac ;  as  they  have  done 
to  others,  so  is  it  done  to  them.  Sainte- Guillotine,  meseems, 
is  worse  than  the  old  Saints  of  Superstition  ;  a  man-devouring 
Saint  ?  Clootz,  still  with  an  air  of  polished  sarcasm,  endeavors 
to  jest,  to  offer  cheering  “arguments  of  Materialism;”  he  re¬ 
quested  to  be  executed  last,  “  in  order  to  establish  certain  prin¬ 
ciples,”  —  which  hitherto,  I  think,  Philosophy  has  got  no  good 
of.  General  Ronsin  too,  he  still  looks  forth  with  some  air  of 
defiance,  eye  of  command  :  the  rest  are  sunk  in  a  stony  paleness 
of  despair.  Momoro,  poor  Bibliopolist,  no  Agrarian  Law  yet 
realized,  —  they  might  as  well  have  hanged  thee  at  Evreux, 
twenty  months  ago,  when  Girondin  Buzot  hindered  them. 
Hebert  Pere  Duchesne  shall  never  in  this  world  rise  in  sacred 
right  of  insurrection ;  he  sits  there  low  enough,  head  sunk 
on  breast;  Red  Nightcaps  shouting  round  him,  in  frightful 
parody  of  his  Newspaper  Articles,  “  Grand  choler  of  the  Pere 
Duchesne  !  ”  Thus  perish  they  ;  the  sack  receives  all  their 
heads.  Through  some  section  of  History,  Nineteen  spectre- 
chimeras  shall  flit,  squeaking  and  gibbering ;  till  Oblivion  swal¬ 
low  them. 

In  the  course  of  a  week,  the  Revolutionary  Army  itself  is 
disbanded  ;  the  General  having  become  spectral.  This  Paction 
of  Rabids,  therefore,  is  also  purged  from  the  Republican  soil ; 
here  also  the  baited  fall-traps  of  that  Pitt  have  been  wrenched 
up  harmless  ;  and  anew  there  is  joy  over  a  Plot  Discovered. 
The  Revolution,  then,  is  verily  devouring  its  own  children  ? 
All  Anarchy,  by  the  nature  of  it,  is  not  only  destructive  but 
self-destructive. 


896 


THEKMIDOR. 


Book  XIX. 
1794  [Year  2. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DANTON,  NO  WEAKNESS. 

Danton  meanwhile  has  been  pressingly  sent  for  from  Arcis  : 
he  must  return  instantly,  cried  Camille,  cried  Phelippeaux  and 
Eriends,  who  scented  danger  in  the  wind.  Danger  enough !  . 
A  Danton,  a  Robespierre,  chief-products  of  a  victorious  Revo¬ 
lution,  are  now  arrived  in  immediate  front  of  one  another ; 
must  ascertain  how  they  will  live  together,  rule  together.  One 
conceives  easily  the  deep  mutual  incompatibility  that  divided 
these  two :  with  what  terror  of  feminine  hatred  the  poor  sea- 
green  Formula  looked  at  the  monstrous  colossal  Reality,  and 
grew  greener  to  behold  him ;  —  the  Reality,  again,  struggling 
to  think  no  ill  of  a  chief  product  of  the  Revolution ;  yet  feel¬ 
ing  at  bottom  that  such  chief  product  was  little  other  than  a 
chief  wind-bag,  blown  large  by  Popular  air ;  not  a  man,  with 
the  heart  of  a  man,  but  a  poor  spasmodic  incorruptible  pedant, 
with  a  logic-formula  instead  of  heart ;  of  Jesuit  or  Methodist- 
Parson  nature  ;  full  of  sincere-cant,  incorruptibility,  of  viru¬ 
lence,  poltroonery ;  barren  as  the  east-wind  !  Two  such  chief 
products  are  too  much  for  one  Revolution. 

Friends,  trembling  at  the  results  of  a  quarrel  on  their  part, 
brought  them  to  meet.  “  It  is  right,”  said  Danton,  swrallowing 
much  indignation,  “  to  repress  the  Royalists :  but  we  should 
not  strike  except  where  it  is  useful  to  the  Republic  ;  we  should 
not  confound  the  innocent  and  the  guilty.”  —  “  And  who  told 
you,”  replied  Robespierre  with  a  poisonous  look,  “that  one 
innocent  person  had  perished  ?  ”  —  “  Quoi ’,”  said  Danton,  turn¬ 
ing  round  to  Friend  Paris  self-named  Fabricius,  Juryman  in 
the  Revolutionary  Tribunal :  “  Quoi,  not  one  innocent  ?  What 
sayest  thou  of  it,  Fabricius  ?”  1  —  Friends,  Westermann,  this 
Paris  and  others  urged  him  to  show  himself,  to  ascend  the 

1  Biographie  des  Ministres ,  §  Danton. 


chap.  II.  DANTON,  NO  WEAKNESS.  397 

Germ.  11]  March  31.  ’ 

Tribune  and  act.  The  man  Danton  was  not  prone  to  show 
himself ;  to  act,  or  uproar  for  his  own  safety.  A  man  of  care¬ 
less,  large,  hoping  nature ;  a  large  nature  that  could  rest :  he 
would  sit  whole  hours,  they  say,  hearing  Camille  talk,  and  liked 
nothing  so  well.  Friends  urged  him  to  fly ;  his  Wife  urged 
him  :  “  Whither  fly  ?  ”  answered  he  :  “  If  freed  France  cast  me 
out,  there  are  only  dungeons  for  me  elsewhere.  One  carries 
not  his  country  with  him  at  the  sole  of  his  shoe  !  ”  The  man 
Danton  sat  still.  Nor  even  the  arrestment  of  Friend  Herault, 
a  member  of  Salut,  yet  arrested  by  Salut,  can  rouse  Danton.  — 
On  the  night  of  the  30th  of  March  Juryman  Paris  came  rushing 
in  ;  haste  looking  through  his  eyes  :  A  clerk  of  the  Salut  Com¬ 
mittee  had  told  him  Danton’s  warrant  was  made  out,  he  is  to 
be  arrested  this  very  night !  Entreaties  there  are  and  trepida¬ 
tion,  of  poor  Wife,  of  Paris  and  Friends :  Danton  sat  silent 
for  a  while  ;  then  answered,  “  Its  rt oseraient,  They  dare  not ;  ” 
and  would  take  no  measures.  Murmuring  “They  dare  not,” 
he  goes  to  sleep  as  usual. 

And  yet,  on  the  morrow  morning,  strange  rumor  spreads 
over  Paris  City :  Danton,  Camille,  Phelippeaux,  Lacroix  have 
been  arrested  overnight !  It  is  verily  so  :  the  corridors  of 
the  Luxembourg  were  all  crowded,  Prisoners  crowding  forth 
to  see  this  giant  of  the  Revolution  enter  among  them. 
“  Messieurs,”  said  Danton  politely,  “  I  hoped  soon  to  have  got 
you  all  out  of  this  :  but  here  I  am  myself ;  and  one  sees  not 
where  it  will  end.”  —  Rumor  may  spread  over  Paris  :  the  Con¬ 
vention  clusters  itself  into  groups;  wide-eyed,  whispering 
“  Danton  arrested  !  ”  Who,  then,  is  safe  ?  Legendre,  mounting 
the  Tribune,  utters,  at  his  own  peril,  a  feeble  word  for  him ; 
moving  that  he  be  heard  at  that  Bar  before  indictment ;  but 
Robespierre  frowns  him  down :  “  Did  you  hear  Chabot  or 
Bazire  ?  Would  you  have  two  weights  and  measures?” 
Legendre  cowers  low:  Danton,  like  the  others,  must  take 
his  doom. 

Danton’s  Prison-thoughts  were  curious  to  have ;  but  are 
not  given  in  any  quantity :  indeed  few  such  remarkable  men 
have  been  left  so  obscure  to  us  as  this  Titan  of  the  Revolution. 
Lie  was  heard  to  ejaculate:  “This  time  twelvemonth,  I  was 


398 


TIIERMIDOR. 


Book  XIX. 
1794  [Year  2. 

moving  the  creation  of  that  same  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 
I  crave  pardon  for  it  of  God  and  man.  They  are  all  Brothers 
Cain ;  Brissot  would  have  had  me  guillotined  as  Robespierre 
now  will.  I  leave  the  whole  business  in  a  frightful  welter 
(gdchis  epouvantable )  :  not  one  of  them  understands  anything 
of  government.  Robespierre  will  follow  me ;  I  drag  down 
Robespierre.  Oh,  it  were  better  to  be  a  poor  fisherman  than 
to  meddle  with  governing  of  men.”  —  Camille’s  young  beauti¬ 
ful  Wife,  who  had  made  him  rich  not  in  money  alone,  hovers 
round  the  Luxembourg,  like  a  disembodied  spirit,  day  and 
night.  Camille’s  stolen  letters  to  her  still  exist ;  stained  with 
the  mark  of  his  tears.1  “I  carry  my  head  like  a  Saint-Sacra¬ 
ment  ?”  so  Saint- Just  was  heard  to  mutter  :  “  perhaps  he  will 
carry  his  like  a  Saint-Denis.” 

Unhappy  Danton,  thou  still  unhappier  light  Camille,  once 
light  Procureur  de  la  Lanterne ,  ye  also  have  arrived,  then,  at 
the  Bourne  of  Creation,  where,  like  Ulysses  Polytlas  at  the 
limit  and  utmost  Gades  of  his  voyage,  gazing  into  that  dim 
Waste  beyond  Creation,  a  man  does  see  the  Shade  of  his 
Mother ,  pale,  ineffectual ;  —  and  days  when  his  Mother  nursed 
and  wrapped  him  are  all  too  sternly  contrasted  with  this  day  ! 
Danton,  Camille,  Herault,  Westermann,  and  the  others,  very 
strangely  massed  up  with  Bazires,  Swindler  Chabots,  Fabre 
d’Eglantines,  Banker  Freys,  a  most  motley  Batch,  “  Foumee  ” 
as  such  things  will  be  called,  stand  ranked  at  the  Bar  of  Tin- 
ville.  It  is  the  2d  of  April,  1794.  Danton  has  had  but  three 
days  to  lie  in  Prison ;  for  the  time  presses. 

What  is  your  name  ?  place  of  abode  ?  and  the  like,  Fou- 
quier  asks  ;  according  to  formality.  “  My  name  is  Danton,” 
answers  he  ;  “  a  name  tolerably  known  in  the  Revolution  :  my 
abode  will  soon  be  Annihilation  ( dans  le  Neant )  ;  but  I  shall 
live  in  the  Pantheon  of  History.”  A  man  will  endeavor  to  say 
something  forcible,  be  it  by  nature  or  not !  Herault  mentions 
epigrammatically  that  he  “  sat  in  this  Hall,  and  was  detested 
of  Parlementeers.”  Camille  makes  answer,  “My  age  is  that 
of  the  bon  Sansculotte  Jesus  ;  an  age  fatal  to  Revolutionists.” 

1  Aper^us  sur  Camille  Desmoulins  (in  Vieux  Cordelier,  Paris,  1825),  pp.  1-29. 


Chap.  II.  DANTON,  NO  WEAKNESS.  399 

Germ.  13]  April  2. 

0  Camille,  Camille !  And  yet  in  that  Divine  Transaction,  let 
us  say,  there  did  lie,  among  other  things,  the  fatalest  Reproof 
ever  uttered  here  below  to  Worldly  Right-honorableness  ;  “  the 
highest  fact,”  so  devout  Novalis  calls  it,  “ in  the  Rights  of 
Man.”  Camille’s  real  age,  it  would  seem,  is  thirty-four.  Dan- 
ton  is  one  year  older. 

Some  five  months  ago,  the  Trial  of  the  Twenty-two  Giron- 
dins  was  the  greatest  that  Fouquier  had  then  done.  But  here 
is  a  still  greater  to  do  ;  a  thing  which  tasks  the  whole  faculty 
of  Fouquier  ;  which  makes  the  very  heart  of  him  waver.  For 
it  is  the  voice  of  Danton  that  reverberates  now  from  these 
domes  ;  in  passionate  words,  piercing  with  their  wild  sincerity, 
winged  with  wrath.  Your  best  Witnesses  he  shivers  into  ruin 
at  one  stroke.  He  demands  that  the  Committee-men  them¬ 
selves  come  as  Witnesses,  as  Accusers ;  he  “  will  cover  them 
with  ignominy.”  He  raises  his  huge  stature,  he  shakes  his 
huge  black  head,  fire  flashes  from  the  eyes  of  him,  —  piercing 
to  all  Republican  hearts :  so  that  the  very  Galleries,  though 
we  filled  them  by  ticket,  murmur  sympathy ;  and  are  like  to 
burst  down  and  raise  the  People,  and  deliver  him !  He  com¬ 
plains  loudly  that  he  is  classed  with  Chabots,  with  swindling 
Stockjobbers  ;  that  his  Indictment  is  a  list  of  platitudes  and 
horrors.  “ Danton  hidden  on  the  10th  of  August?”  rever¬ 
berates  he,  with  the  roar  of  a  lion  in  the  toils  :  “  where  are  the 
men  that  had  to  press  Danton  to  show  himself,  that  day  ? 
Where  are  these  high-gifted  souls  of  whom  he  borrowed 
energy  ?  Let  them  appear,  these  Accusers  of  mine  :  I  have 
all  the  clearness  of  my  self-possession  when  I  demand  them. 
I  will  unmask  the  three  shallow  scoundrels,”  les  trois  plats 
coquins ,  Saint-Just,  Couthon,  Lebas,  “  who  fawn  on  Robes¬ 
pierre,  and  lead  him  towards  his  destruction.  Let  them  pro¬ 
duce  themselves  here ;  I  will  plunge  them  into  Nothingness,  out 
of  which  they  ought  never  to  have  risen.”  The  agitated  Presi¬ 
dent  agitates  his  bell ;  enjoins  calmness,  in  a  vehement  man¬ 
ner  :  “  What  is  it  to  thee  how  I  defend  myself  ?  ”  cries  the 
other  :  “  the  right  of  dooming  me  is  thine  always.  The  voice 
of  a  man  speaking  for  his  honor  and  his  life  may  well  drown 
the  jingling  of  thy  bell !  ”  Thus  Danton,  higher  and  higher ; 


400  .  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

till  the  lion-voice  of  him  “  dies  away  in  his  throat :  ”  speech 
will  not  utter  what  is  in  that  man.  The  Galleries  murmur 
ominously ;  the  first  day’s  Session  is  over. 

O  Tinville,  President  Herman,  what  will  ye  do  ?  They 
have  two  days  more  of  it,  by  strictest  Revolutionary  Law. 
The  Galleries  already  murmur.  If  this  Danton  were  to  burst 
your  mesh-work  !  — Very  curious  indeed  to  consider.  It  turns 
on  a  hair :  and  what  a  hoity-toity  were  there,  Justice  and 
Culprit  changing  places ;  and  the  whole  History  of  France 
running  changed  !  For  in  France  there  is  this  Danton  only 
that  could  still  try  to  govern  France.  He  only,  the  wild  amor¬ 
phous  Titan  ;  —  and  perhaps  that  other  olive-complexioned  in¬ 
dividual,  the  Artillery-Officer  at  Toulon,  whom  we  left  pushing 
his  fortune  in  the  South  ? 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  matters  looking  not  bet¬ 
ter  but  worse  and  worse,  Fouquier  and  Herman,  distraction 
in  their  aspect,  rush  over  to  Salut  Public.  What  is  to  be 
done  ?  Salut  Public  rapidly  concocts  a  new  Decree  ;  whereby 
if  men  “  insult  Justice,”  they  may  be  “  thrown  out  of  the 
Debates.”  For  indeed,  withal,  is  there  not  “  a  Plot  in  the 
Luxembourg  Prison  ?  ”  Ci-devant  General  Dillon,  and  others 
of  the  Suspect,  plotting  with  Camille’s  Wife  to  distribute 
assignats  ;  to  force  the  Prisons,  overset  the  Republic  ?  Citi¬ 
zen  Laflotte,  himself  Suspect  but  desiring  enfranchisement, 
has  reported  said  Plot  for  us  :  —  a  report  that  may  bear  fruit ! 
Enough,  on  the  morrow  morning,  an  obedient  Convention 
passes  this  Decree.  Salut  rushes  off  with  it  to  the  aid  of 
Tinville,  reduced  now  almost  to  extremities.  And  so,  Hors  de 
Debats,  Out  of  the  Debates,  ye  insolents  !  Policemen,  do  your 
duty  !  In  such  manner,  with  a  dead-lift  effort,  Salut,  Tin¬ 
ville,  Herman,  Leroi  Dix-Aout,  and  all  stanch  jurymen  setting 
heart  and  shoulder  to  it,  the  Jury  becomes  “  sufficiently  in¬ 
structed  ;  ”  Sentence  is  passed,  is  sent  by  an  Official,  and  torn 
and  trampled  on  :  Death  this  day.  It  is  the  5th  of  April,  1794. 
Camille’s  poor  Wife  may  cease  hovering  about  this  Prison. 
Nay  let  her  kiss  her  poor  children;  and  prepare  to  enter  it, 
and  to  follow  !  — 

Danton  carried  a  high  look  in  the  Death-cart.  Not  so 


THE  TUMBRILS. 


401 


Chap.  III. 
Germinal]  April. 


Camille  :  it  is  but  one  week,  and  all  is  so  topsy-turvied ;  angel 
Wife  left  weeping ;  love,  riches,  revolutionary  fame,  left  all 
at  the  Prison-gate  ;  carnivorous  Rabble  now  howling  round. 
Palpable,  and  yet  incredible  ;  like  a  madman’s  dream.  Ca¬ 
mille  struggles  and  writhes  ;  his  shoulders  shuffle  the  loose 
coat  off  them,  which  hangs  knotted,  the  hands  tied :  “  Calm, 
my  friend,”  said  Danton ;  “  heed  not  that  vile  canaille  (laissez 
la  cette  vile  canaille)”  At  the  foot  of  the  Scaffold,  Danton 
was  heard  to  ejaculate  :  “0  my  Wife,  my  well-beloved,  I  shall 
never  see  thee  more,  then  !  ”  —  but,  interrupting  himself  : 
“  Danton,  no  weakness  !  ”  He  said  to  Herault  Sechelles  step¬ 
ping  forward  to  embrace  him  :  “  Our  heads  will  meet  there” 
in  the  Headsman’s  sack.  His  last  words  were  to  Samson  the 
Headsman  himself  :  “  Thou  wilt  show  my  head  to  the  people ; 
it  is  worth  showing.” 

So  passes,  like  a  gigantic  mass  of  valor,  ostentation,  fury, 
affection  and  wild  revolutionary  force  and  manhood,  this  Dan¬ 
ton,  to  his  unknown  home.  He  was  of  Arcis-sur-Aube  ;  born 
of  “  good  farmer-people  ”  there.  He  had  many  sins  ;  but  one 
worst  sin  he  had  not,  that  of  Cant.  Ho  hollow  Formalist, 
deceptive  and  self-deceptive,  ghastly  to  the  natural  sense,  was 
this  ;  but  a  very  Man :  with  all  his  dross  he  was  a  Man ;  fiery- 
real,  from  the  great  fire-bosom  of  Nature  herself.  He  saved 
France  from  Brunswick ;  he  walked  straight  his  own  wild  road, 
whither  it  led  him.  He  may  live  for  some  generations  in  the 
memory  of  men. 


CHAPTER  III. 

» 

THE  TUMBRILS. 

Next  week,  it  is  still  but  the  10th  of  April,  there  comes  a 
new  Nineteen  ;  Chaumette,  Gobel,  Hebert’s  Widow,  the  Widow 
of  Camille  :  these  also  roll  their  fated  journey ;  black  Death 
devours  them.  Mean  Hebert’s  Widow  was  weeping,  Camille’s 
Widow  tried  to  speak  comfort  to  her.  0  ye  kind  Heavens, 
azure,  beautiful,  eternal  behind  your  tempests  and  Time-clouds, 
vol.  iv.  26 


402  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

is  there  not  pity  in  store  for  all !  Gobel,  it  seems,  was  re¬ 
pentant  ;  he  begged  absolution  of  a  Priest ;  died  as  a  Gobel 
best  could.  For  Anaxagoras  Chaumette,  the  sleek  head  now 
stripped  of  its  bonnet  rouge ,  what  hope  is  there  ?  Unless  Death 
were  “  an  eternal  sleep  ”  ?  Wretched  Anaxagoras,  God  shall 
judge  thee,  not  I. 

Hebert,  therefore,  is  gone,  and  the  Hebertists  ;  they  that 
robbed  Churches,  and  adored  blue  Reason  in  red  nightcap. 
Great  Danton,  and  the  Dantonists  ;  they  also  are  gone.  Down 
to  the  catacombs  ;  they  are  become  silent  men  !  Let  no  Paris 
Municipality,  no  Sect  or  Party  of  this  hue  or  that,  resist  the 
will  of  Robespierre  and  Salut.  Mayor  Pache,  not  prompt 
enough  in  denouncing  these  Pitt  Plots,  may  congratulate  about 
them  now.  Never  so  heartily  ;  it  skills  not !  His  course  like¬ 
wise  is  to  the  Luxembourg.  We  appoint  one  Fleuriot-Lescot 
Interim-Mayor  in  his  stead :  an  “  architect  from  Belgium,” 
they  say,  this  Fleuriot ;  he  is  a  man  one  can  depend  on.  Our 
new  Agent-National  is  Payan,  lately  Juryman ;  whose  cynosure 
also  is  Robespierre. 

Thus  then,  we  perceive,  this  confusedly  electric  Erebus-cloud 
of  Revolutionary  Government  has  altered  its  shape  somewhat. 
Two  masses,  or  wings,  belonging  to  it ;  an  over-electric  mass 
of  Cordelier  Rabids,  and  an  under-electric  of  Dantonist  Mod¬ 
erates  and  Clemency-men,  —  these  two  masses,  shooting  bolts 
at  one  another,  so  to  speak,  have  annihilated  one  another. 
For  the  Erebus-cloud,  as  we  often  remark,  is  of  suicidal  na¬ 
ture  ;  and,  in  jagged  irregularity,  darts  its  lightning  withal 
into  itself.  But  now  these  two  discrepant  masses  being  mutu¬ 
ally  annihilated,  it  is  as  if  the  Erebus-cloud  had  got  to  internal 
composure  ;  and  did  only  pour  its  hell-fire  lightning  on  the 
World  that  lay  under  it.  In  plain  words,  Terror  of  the  Guillo¬ 
tine  was  never  terrible  till  now.  Systole,  diastole,  swift  and 
ever  swifter  goes  the  Axe  of  Samson.  Indictments  cease  by 
degrees  to  have  so  much  as  plausibility  :  Fouquier  chooses 
from  the  Twelve  Houses  of  Arrest  what  he  calls  Batches, 
u  Fournees,”  a  score  or  more  at  a  time  ;  his  Jurymen  are 
charged  to  make  feu  de  file,  file-firing  till  the  ground  be  clear. 
Citizen  Laflotte’s  report  of  Plot  in  the  Luxembourg  is  verily 


Chap.  III.  THE  TUMBRILS.  403 

Flor.  3]  April  22. 

bearing  fruit !  If  no  speakable  charge  exist  against  a  man,  or 
Batch  of  men,  Fouquier  has  always  this :  a  Plot  in  the  Prison. 
Swift  and  ever  swifter  goes  Samson  ;  up,  finally,  to  threescore 
and  more  at  a  Batch.  It  is  the  high-day  of  Death  :  none  but 
the  Dead  return  not. 

0  dusky  D’Esprem4nil,  what  a  day  is  this  the  22d  of  April, 
thy  last  day  !  The  Palais  Hall  here  is  the  same  stone  Hall, 
where  thou,  five  years  ago,  stoodest  perorating,  amid  endless 
pathos  of  rebellious  Parlement,  in  the  gray  of  the  morning ; 
bound  to  march  with  D’Agoust  to  the  Isles  of  Hieres.  The 
stones  are  the  same  stones  :  but  the  rest,  Men,  Rebellion,  Pa¬ 
thos,  Peroration,  see,  it  has  all  fled,  like  a  gibbering  troop  of 
ghosts,  like  the  phantasms  of  a  dying  brain.  With  D’Espr4- 
menil,  in  the  same  line  of  Tumbrils,  goes  the  mournfulest 
medley.  Chapelier  goes,  ci-devant  popular  President  of  the 
Constituent ;  whom  the  Menads  and  Maillard  met  in  his  car¬ 
riage,  on  the  Versailles  Road.  Thouret  likewise,  ci-devant 
President,  father  of  Constitutional  Law-acts ;  he  whom  we 
heard  saying,  long  since,  with  a  loud  voice,  “The  Constituent 
Assembly  has  fulfilled  its  mission  !  ”  And  the  noble  old  Male- 
sherbes,  who  defended  Louis  and  could  not  speak,  like  a 
gray  old  rock  dissolving  into  sudden  water :  he  journeys  here 
now,  with  his  kindred,  daughters,  sons  and  grandsons,  his  La- 
moignons,  Chateaubriands ;  silent,  towards  Death. — One  young 
Chateaubriand  alone  is  wandering  amid  the  Natchez,  by  the 
roar  of  Niagara  Falls,  the  moan  of  endless  forests  :  Welcome 
thou  great  Nature,  savage,  but  not  false,  not  unkind,  unmoth- 
erly  ;  no  Formula  thou,  or  rabid  jangle  of  Hypothesis,  Parlia¬ 
mentary  Eloquence,  Constitution-building  and  the  G-uillotine ; 
speak  thou  to  me,  0  Mother,  and  sing  my  sick  heart  thy  mystic 
everlasting  lullaby-song,  and  let  all  the  rest  be  far  !  — 

Another  row  of  Tumbrils  we  must  notice :  that  which  holds 
Elizabeth,  the  Sister  of  Louis.  Her  Trial  was  like  the  rest ; 
for  Plots,  for  Plots.  She  was  among  the  kindliest,  most 
innocent  of  women.  There  sat  with  her,  amid  four-and-twenty 
others,  a  once  timorous  Marchioness  de  Crussol;  courageous 
now;  expressing  towards  her  the  liveliest  loyalty.  At  the 
foot  of  the  Scaffold,  Elizabeth  with  tears  in  her  eyes  thanked 


404  THERMIDOK.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

this  Marchioness ;  said  she  was  grieved  she  could  not  reward 
her.  “Ah,  Madame,  would  your  Royal  Highness  deign  to 
embrace  me,  my  wishes  were  complete!”  —  “Right  willingly, 
Marquise  de  Crussol,  and  with  my  whole  heart.” 1  Thus 
they :  at  the  foot  of  the  Scaffold.  The  Royal  Family  is  now 
reduced  to  two  :  a  girl  and  a  little  boy.  The  boy,  once  named 
Dauphin,  was  taken  from  his  Mother  while  she  yet  lived;  and 
given  to  one  Simon,  by  trade  a  Cordwainer,  on  service  then 
about  the  Temple-Prison,  to  bring  him  up  in  principles  of 
Sansculottism.  Simon  taught  him  to  drink,  to  swear,  to  sing 
the  carmagnole.  Simon  is  now  gone  to  the  Municipality  :  and 
the  poor  boy,  hidden  in  a  tower  of  the  Temple,  from  which  in 
his  fright  and  bewilderment  and  early  decrepitude  he  wishes 
not  to  stir  out,  lies  perishing,  “his  shirt  not  changed  for  six 
months  ;  ”  amid  squalor  and  darkness,  lamentably,2  —  so  as 
none  but  poor  Factory  Children  and  the  like  are  wont  to 
perish,  and  not  be  lamented ! 

The  Spring  sends  its  green  leaves  and  bright  weather, 
bright  May,  brighter  than  ever :  Death  pauses  not.  Lavoisier, 
famed  Chemist,  shall  die  and  not  live :  Chemist  Lavoisier  was 
Farmer-General  Lavoisier  too,  and  now  “  all  the  Farmers- 
General  are  arrested ;  ”  all,  and  shall  give  an  account  of  their 
moneys  and  incomings ;  and  die  for  “  putting  water  in  the 
tobacco”  they  sold.3  Lavoisier  begged  a  fortnight  more  of 
life,  to  finish  some  experiments :  but  “  the  Republic  does  not 
need  such ;  ”  the  axe  must  do  its  work.  Cynic  Chamfort, 
reading  these  inscriptions  of  Brotherhood  or  Death ,  says,  “it 
is  a  Brotherhood  of  Cain  :  ”  arrested,  then  liberated ;  then 
about  to  be  arrested  again,  this  Chamfort  cuts  and  slashes 
himself  with  frantic  uncertain  hand;  gains,  not  without  diffi¬ 
culty,  the  refuge  of  death.  Condorcet  has  lurked  deep,  these 
many  months;  Argus-eyes  watching  and  searching  for  him. 
His  concealment  is  become  dangerous  to  others  and  himself ; 
he  has  to  fly  again,  to  skulk,  round  Paris,  in  thickets  and 
stone-quarries.  And  so  at  the  Village  of  Clamars,  one  bleared 

1  Montgaillard,  iv.200. 

2  Duchesse  d’Angouleme,  Captivite  a  la  Tour  du  Temple,  pp.  37-71. 

8  Tribunal  Revolutionnaire  du  8  Mai,  1794  ( Moniteur ,  No.  231). 


Chap.  III.  THE  TUMBRILS.  405 

Floreal]  May. 

May  morning,  there  enters  a  Figure,  ragged,  rough-bearded, 
hunger-stricken ;  asks  breakfast  in  the  tavern  there.  Sus¬ 
pect,  by  the  look  of  him!  “  Servant  out  of  place,  sayest 
thou?”  Committee-President  of  Forty  Sous  finds  a  Latin 
Horace  on  him:  ‘‘Art  not  thou  one  of  those  Ci-devants  that 
were  wont  to  keep  servants  ?  Suspect  J  ”  He  is  haled  forth¬ 
with,  breakfast  unfinished,  towards  Bourg-la-Reine,  on  foot :  he 
faints  with  exhaustion ;  is  set  on  a  peasant’s  horse ;  is  flung 
into  his  damp  prison-cell :  on  the  morrow,  recollecting  him, 
you  enter ;  Condorcet  lies  dead  on  the  floor.  They  die  fast, 
and  disappear  :  the  Notabilities  of  France  disappear,  one  after 
one,  like  lights  in  a  Theatre,  which  you  are  snuffing  out. 

Under  which  circumstances,  is  it  not  singular,  and  almost 
touching,  to  see  Paris  City  drawn  out,  in  the  meek  May 
nights,  in  civic  ceremony,  which  they  call  “  Sowper  Fraternel ,” 
Brotherly  Supper  ?  Spontaneous,  or  partially  spontaneous, 
in  the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  fourteenth  nights  of  this  May 
month,  it  is  seen.  Along  the  Hue  Saint-Honore,  and  main 
Streets  and  Spaces,  each  Citoyen  brings  forth  what  of  supper 
the  stingy  Maximum  has  yielded  him,  to  the  open  air ;  joins 
it  to  his  neighbor’s  supper ;  and  with  common  table,  cheerful 
light  burning  frequent,  and  what  due  modicum  of  cut-glass 
and  other  garnish  and  relish  is  convenient,  they  eat  frugally 
together,  under  the  kind  stars.1  See  it,  0  Night !  With 
cheerfully  pledged  wine-cup,  hobnobbing  to  the  Reign  of 
Liberty,  Equality,  Brotherhood,  with  their  wives  in  best 
ribbons,  with  their  little  ones  romping  round,  the  Citoyens, 
in  frugal  Love-feast,  sit  there.  Night  in  her  wide  empire 
sees  nothing  similar.  0  my  brothers,  why  is  the  reign  of 
Brotherhood  not  come !  It  is  come,  it  shall  have  come,  say 
the  Citoyens  frugally  hobnobbing.  —  Ah  me !.  these  everlast¬ 
ing  stars,  do  they  not  look  down  “  like  glistening  eyes,  bright 
with  immortal  pity,  over  the  lot  of  man  ”  !  — 

One  lamentable  thing,  however,  is,  that  individuals  will 
attempt  assassination  —  of  Representatives  of  the  People. 

1  Tableaux  de  la  Revolution,  §  Soupers  Fraternels.  Mercier,  ii.  150. 


406  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

Representative  Collot,  Member  even  of  Salut,  returning  home, 
“about  one  in  the  morning/’  probably  touched  with  liquor, 
as  he  is  apt  to  be,  meets  on  the  stairs  the  cry  “  Scelerat!” 
and  also  the  snap  of  a  pistol :  which  latter  dashes  in  the  pan ; 
disclosing  to  him,  momentarily,  a  pair  of  truculent  saueer- 
eyes,  swart  grim-clenched  countenance ;  recognizable  as  that 
of  our  little  fellow-lodger,  Citoyen  Amiral,  formerly  “a  clerk 
in  the  Lotteries.”  Collot  shouts  Murder ,  with  lungs  fit  to 
awaken  all  the  Rue  Favart  •  Amiral  snaps  a  second  time ; 
a  second  time  flashes  in  the  pan;  then  darts  up  into  his 
apartment ;  and,  after  there  firing,  still  with  inadequate  effect, 
one  musket  at  himself  and  another  at  his  captor,  is  clutched 
and  locked  in  Prison.1  An  indignant  little  man  this  Amiral, 
of  Southern  temper  and  complexion,  of  “  considerable  mus¬ 
cular  force.”  He  denies  not  that  he  meant  to  “purge  France 
of  a  Tyrant ;  ”  nay  avows  that  he  had  an  eye  to  the  Incor¬ 
ruptible  himself,  but  took  Collot  as  more  convenient ! 

Rumor  enough  hereupon ;  heaven-high  congratulation  of 
Collot,  fraternal  embracing,  at  the  Jacobins  and  elsewhere. 
And  yef,  it  would  seem,  the  assassin  mood  proves  catching. 
Two  days  more,  it  is  still  but  the  23d  of  May,  and  towards 
nine  in  the  evening,  Cecile  Renault,  Paper-dealer’s  daughter, 
a  young  woman  of  soft  blooming  look,  presents  herself  at 
the  Cabinet-maker’s  in  the  Rue  Saint-Honore  ;  desires  to 
see  Robespierre.  Robespierre  cannot  be  seen;  she  grumbles 
irreverently.  They  lay  hold  of  her.  She  has  left  a  basket 
in  a  shop  hard  by :  in  the  basket  are  female  change  of  rai¬ 
ment  and  two  knives  !  Poor  Cecile,  examined  by  Committee, 
declares  she  “  wanted  to  see  what  a  tyrant  was  like :  ”  the 
change  of  raiment  was  “for  my  own  use  in  the  place  I  am 
surely  going  to.”  —  “What  place  ?  ”  —  “  Prison ;  and  then 
the  Guillotine,”  answered  she.  —  Such  things  come  of  Char¬ 
lotte  Corday  ;  in  a  people  prone  to  imitation  and  monomania  ! 
Swart  choleric  men  try  Charlotte’s  feat,  and  their  pistols 
miss  fire ;  soft  blooming  young  women  try  it,  and,  only  half¬ 
resolute,  leave  their  knives  in  a  shop. 

O  Pitt,  and  ye  Faction  of  the  Stranger,  shall  the  Republic 
1  Riouffe,  p.  73;  Deux  Amis,  xii.  298-302. 


MUMBO-JUMBO. 


407 


Chap.  IV. 

Prair.  20]  J  une  8. 


never  have  rest ;  but  be  torn  continually  by  baited  springes, 
by  wires  of  explosive  spring-guns  ?  Swart  Amiral,  fair  young 
Cecile,  and  all  that  knew  them,  and  many  that  did  not  know 
them,  lie  locked,  waiting  the  scrutiny  of  Tinville. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MUMBO-JUMBO. 

But  on  the  day  they  call  Decadi ,  New-Sabbath,  20  Prairial , 
8th  June  by  old-style,  what  thing  is  this  going  forward  in  the 
Jardin  National,  whilom  Tuileries  Garden  ? 

All  the  world  is  there,  in  holiday  clothes  : 1  foul  linen  went 
out  with  the  Hebertists ;  nay  Robespierre,  for  one,  would 
never  once  countenance  that ;  but  went  always  elegant  and 
frizzled,  not  without  vanity  even,  —  and  had  his  room  hung 
round  with  sea-green  Portraits  and  Busts.  In  holiday  clothes, 
we  say,  are  the  innumerable  Citoyens  and  Citoyennes :  the 
weather  is  of  the  brightest;  cheerful  expectation  lights  all 
countenances.  Juryman  Vilate  gives  breakfast  to  many  a 
Deputy,  in  his  official  Apartment,  in  the  Pavilion  cirdevant 
of  Flora;  rejoices  in  the  bright-looking  multitudes,  in  the 
brightness  of  leafy  June,  in  the  auspicious  Decadi,  or  New- 
Sabbath.  This  day,  if  it  please  Heaven,  we  are  to  have,  on 
improved  Anti-Chaumette  principles  :  a  New  Religion. 

Catholicism  being  burned  out,  and  Reason-worship  guillo¬ 
tined,  was  there  not  need  of  one  ?  Incorruptible  Robespierre, 
not  unlike  the  Ancients,  as  Legislator  of  a  free  people,  will 
now  also  be  Priest  and  Prophet.  He  has  donned  his  sky-blue 
coat,  made  for  the  occasion ;  white  silk  waistcoat  broidered 
with  silver,  black  silk  breeches,  white  stockings,  shoe-buckles 
of  gold.  He  is  President  of  the  Convention ;  he  has  made 
the  Convention  decree,  so  they  name  it,  decreter  the  “  Existence 
of  the  Supreme  Being,”  and  likewise  “  ce  principe  consolateur 
of  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul.”  These  consolatory  princi- 
1  Vilate,  Causes  Secretes  de  la  Revolution  du  9  Thermidor. 


408  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

.  1794  [Year  2. 

pies,  the  basis  of  rational  Republican  Religion,  are  getting 
decreed ;  and  here,  on  this  blessed  Decadi,  by  help  of  Heaven 
and  Painter  David,  is  to  be  our  first  act  of  worship. 

See,  accordingly,  how  after  Decree  passed,  and  what  has 
been  called  “  the  scraggiest  Prophetic  Discourse  ever  uttered 
by  man,”  — Mahomet  Robespierre,  in  sky-blue  coat  and  black 
breeches,  frizzled  and  powdered  to  perfection,  bearing  in  his 
]  hand  a  bouquet  of  flowers  and  wheat-ears,  issues  proudly 
from  the  Convention  Hall ;  Convention  following  him,  yet, 
as  is  remarked,  with  an  interval.  Amphitheatre  has  been 
raised,  or  at  least  Monticule  or  Elevation ;  hideous  Statues  of 
Atheism,  Anarchy  and  such  like,  thanks  to  Heaven  and  Painter 
David,  strike  abhorrence  into  the  heart.  Unluckily,  however, 
our  Monticule  is  too  small.  On  the  top  of  it  not  half  of  us 
can  stand ;  wherefore  there  arises  indecent  shoving,  nay  trea¬ 
sonous  irreverent  growling.  Peace,  thou  Bourdon  de  l’Oise ; 
peace,  or  it  may  be  worse  for  thee  ! 

The  sea-green  Pontiff  takes  a  torch,  Painter  David  handing 
it ;  mouths  some  other  froth-rant  of  vocables,  which  happily 
one  cannot  hear ;  strides  resolutely  forward,  in  sight  of  ex¬ 
pectant  Prance  ;  sets  his  torch  to  Atheism  and  Company,  which 
are  but  made  of  pasteboard  steeped  in  turpentine.  They  burn 
up  rapidly ;  and,  from  within,  there  rises  “  by  machinery,”  an 
incombustible  Statue  of  Wisdom,  which,  by  ill  hap,  gets  be- 
smoked  a  little ;  but  does  stand  there  visible  in  as  serene  atti¬ 
tude  as  it  can. 

And  then  ?  Why,  then,  there  is  other  Processioning, 
scraggy  Discoursing,  and  —  this  is  our  Feast  of  the  Etre 
Supreme ;  our  new  Religion,  better  or  worse,  is  come  !  — 
Look  at  it  one  moment,  0  Reader,  not  two.  The  shabbiest 
page  of  Human  Annals :  or  is  there,  that  thou  wottest  of,  one 
shabbier  ?  Mumbo- Jumbo  of  the  African  woods  to  me  seems 
venerable  beside  this  new  Deity  of  Robespierre ;  for  this  is 
a  conscious  Mumbo- Jumbo,  and  knows  that  he  is  machinery. 
0  sea-green  Prophet,  unhappiest  of  wind-bags  blown  nigh  to 
bursting,  what  distracted  Chimera  among  realities  art  thou 
growing  to !  This  then,  this  common  pitch-link  for  artificial 


MUMBO-JUMBO. 


409 


Chap.  IV. 

Prair.  22-29]  June  10-17. 
fire-works  of  turpentine  and  pasteboard;  this  is  the  miraculous 
Aaron’s  Rod  thou  wilt  stretch  over  a  hag-ridden  hell-ridden 
France,  and^bid  her  plagues  cease?  Vanish,  thou  and  it!  — 
“  Avec  ton  Etre  Supreme,”  said  Billaud,  “  tu  commences  m’em- 
beter :  With  thy  Etre  Supreme  thou  beginnest  to  be  a  bore 
to  me.”  1 

Catherine  Theot,  on  the  other  hand,  “an  ancient  serving- 
maid  seventy-nine  years  of  age,”  inured  to  Prophecy  and  the 
Bastille  from  of  old,  sits  in  an  upper  room  in  the  Rue  de 
Contrescarpe,  poring  over  the  Book  of  Revelations,  with  an 
eye  to  Robespierre ;  finds  that  this  astonishing  thrice-potent 
Maximilien  really  is  the  Man  spoken  of  by  Prophets,  who  is 
to  make  the  Earth  young  again.  With  her  sit  devout  old  Mar¬ 
chionesses,  ci-devant  honorable  women  ;  among  whom  Old-Con¬ 
stituent  Dom  Gerle,  with  his  addle  head,  cannot  be  wanting. 
They  sit  there,  in  the  Rue  de  Contrescarpe ;  in  mysterious 
adoration  :  Mumbo  is  Mumbo,  and  Robespierre  is  his  Prophet. 
A  conspicuous  man  this  Robespierre.  He  has  his  volunteer 
Body-guard  of  Tappe-durs,  let  us  say  Strike-sharps,  fierce  Pa¬ 
triots  with  feruled  sticks ;  and  Jacobins  kissing  the  hem  of 
his  garment.  He  enjoys  the  admiration  of  many,  the  worship 
of  some  ;  and  is  well  worth  the  wonder  of  one  and  all. 

The  grand  question  and  hope,  however,  is  :  Will  not  this 
Feast  of  the  Tuileries  Mumbo-Jumbo  be  a  sign  perhaps  that 
the  Guillotine  is  to  abate  ?  Far  enough  from  that !  Precisely 
on  the  second  day  after  it,  Couthon,  one  of  the  “  three  shallow 
scoundrels,”  gets  himself  lifted  into  the  Tribune  ;  produces 
a  bundle  of  papers.  Couthon  proposes  that,  as  Plots  still 
abound,  the  Law  of  the  Suspect  shall  have  extension,  and  Ar¬ 
restment  new  vigor  and  facility.  Farther,  that  as  in  such 
case  business  is  like  to  be  heavy,  our  Revolutionary  Tribunal 
too  shall  have  extension ;  be  divided,  say,  into  Four  Tribunals, 
each  with  its  President,  each  with  its  Fouquier  or  Substitute 
of  Fouquier,  all  laboring  at  once,  and  any  remnant  of  shackle 
or  dilatory  formalit}r  be  struck  off :  in  this  way  it  may  per- 

1  See  Vilate,  Causes  Secretes.  (Vilate’s  Narrative  is  very  curious;  but 
is  not  to  be  taken  as  true,  without  sifting ;  being,  at  bottom,  in  spite  of  its 
title,  not  a  Narrative  but  a  Pleading.) 


410 


THERMIDOR. 


Book  XIX. 
1794  [Year  2. 

haps  still  overtake  the  work.  Such  is  Couthon’s  Decree  of  the 
Twenty-second  Prairial,  famed  in  those  times.  At  hearing  of 
which  Decree,  the  very  Mountain  gasped,  awe-struck ;  and  one 
Ruamps  ventured  to  say  that  if  it  passed  without  adjournment 
and  discussion,  he,  as  one  Representative,  “  would  blow  his 
brains  out.”  Vain  saying  !  The  Incorruptible  knit  his  brows  ; 
spoke  a  prophetic  fateful  word  or  two  :  the  Law  of  Prairial  is 
Law ;  Ruamps  glad  to  leave  his  rash  brains  where  they  are. 
Death  then,  and  always  Death  !  Even  so.  Eouquier  is  enlarg¬ 
ing  his  borders ;  making  room  for  Batches  of  a  Hundred  and 
Fifty  at  once ;  —  getting  a  Guillotine  set  up  of  improved  velocity, 
and  to  work  under  cover,  in  the  apartment  close  by.  So  that 
Salut  itself  has  to  intervene,  and  forbid  him :  “  Wilt  thou 
demoralize  the  Guillotine,”  asks  Collot,  reproachfully,  “  demo- 
raliser  le  supplice  !  ” 

There  is  indeed  danger  of  that ;  were  not  the  Republican 
faith  great,  it  were  already  done.  See,  for  example,  on  the 
17  th  of  June,  what  a  Batch ,  Fifty -four  at  once  !  Swart  Amiral 
is  here,  he  of  the  pistol  that  missed  fire  ;  young  Cecile  Renault, 
with  her  father,  family,  entire  kith  and  kin ;  the  Widow  of 
D’Espremenil ;  old  M.  de  Sombreuil  of  the  Invalides,  with 
his  Son,  —  poor  old  Sombreuil,  seventy -three  years  old,  his 
Daughter  saved  him  in  September,  and  it  was  but  for  this. 
Faction  of  the  Stranger,  fifty-four  of  them  !  In  red  shirts 
and  smocks,  as  Assassins  and  Faction  of  the  Stranger,  they 
flit  along  there ;  red  baleful  Phantasmagory,  towards  the  land 
of  Phantoms. 

Meanwhile  will  not  the  people  of  the  Place  de  la  Revolution, 
the  inhabitants  along  the  Rue  Saint-Honore,  as  these  continual 
Tumbrils  pass,  begin  to  look  gloomy  ?  Republicans  too  have 
bowels.  The  Guillotine  is  shifted,  then  again  shifted  ;  finally 
set  up  at  the  remote  extremity  of  the  Southeast : 1  Suburbs 
Saint-Antoine  and  Saint-Marceau,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  if  they 
have  bowels,  have  very  tough  ones. 


1  Montgaillard,  iv.  237. 


Chap.  V. 
Prairial]  June. 


THE  PRISONS. 


411 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  PRISONS. 

It  is  time  now,  however,  to  cast  a  glance  into  the  Prisons. 
When  Desmoulins  moved  for  his  Committee  of  Mercy,  these 
Twelve  Houses  of  Arrest  held  five  thousand  persons.  Con¬ 
tinually  arriving  since  then,  there  have  now  accumulated 
twelve  thousand.  They  are  Ci-devants,  Royalists  ;  in  far 
greater  part,  they  are  Republicans,  of  various  Girondin,  Eay- 
ettish,  Un-Jacobin  color.  Perhaps  no  human  Habitation  or 
Prison  ever  equalled  in  squalor,  in  noisome  horror,  these  Twelve 
Houses  of  Arrest.  There  exist  records  of  personal  experience 
in  them,  Memoires  sur  les  Prisons  ;  one  of  the  strangest  Chap¬ 
ters  in  the  Biography  of  Man. 

Very  singular  to  look  into  it :  how  a  kind  of  order  rises  up 
in  all  conditions  of  human  existence  ;  and  wherever  two  or 
three  are  gathered  together,  there  are  formed  modes  of  exist- 
ing  together,  habitudes,  observances,  nay  gracefulnesses,  joys  ! 
Citoyen  Coittant  will  explain  fully  how  our  lean  dinner,  of 
herbs  and  carrion,  was  consumed  not  without  politeness  and 
place-aux-dames :  how  Seigneur  and  Shoeblack,  Duchess  and 
Doll-Tearsheet,  flung  pell-mell  into  a  heap,  ranked  themselves 
according  to  method :  at  what  hour  “  the  Citoyennes  took  to 
their  needle-work ;  ”  and  we,  yielding  the  chairs  to  them,  en¬ 
deavored  to  talk  gallantly  in  a  standing  posture,  or  even  to 
sing  and  harp  more  or  less.  Jealousies,  enmities,  are  not 
wanting ;  nor  flirtations,  of  an  effective  character. 

Alas,  by  degrees,  even  needle-work  must  cease  :  Plot  in  the 
Prison  rises,  by  Citoyen  Laflotte  and  Preternatural  Suspicion. 
Suspicious  Municipality  snatches  from  us  all  implements ;  all 
money  and  possession,  of  means  or  metal,  is  ruthlessly  searched 
for,  in  pocket,  in  pillow  and  paillasse,  and  snatched  away  :  red- 
capped  Commissaries  entering  every  cell.  Indignation,  tern- 


412  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

porary  desperation,  at  robbery  of  its  very  thimble,  fills  the 
gentle  heart.  Old  Nuns  shriek  shrill  discord ;  demand  to  be 
killed  forthwith.  No  help  from  shrieking  !  Better  was  that 
of  the  two  shifty  male  Citizens,  who,  eager  to  preserve  an 
implement  or  two,  were  it  but  a  pipe-picker,  or  needle  to 
darn  hose  with,  determined  to  defend  themselves  :  by  tobacco. 
Swift  then,  as  your  fell  Red  Caps  are  heard  in  the  Corridor 
rummaging  and  slamming,  the  two  Citoyens  light  their  pipers, 
and  begin  smoking.  Thick  darkness  envelops  them.  The 
Red  Nightcaps,  opening  the  cell,  breathe  but  one  mouthful; 
burst  forth  into  chorus  of  barking  and  coughing.  u  Quoi, 
Messieurs  ,”  cry  the  two  Citoyens,  “you  don’t  smoke  ?  Is  the 
pipe  disagreeable  ?  Est-ce  que  vous  ne  fumez  pas  ?  ”  But  the 
Red  Nightcaps  have  fled,  with  slight  search :  “  Vous  n’aimez 
pas  la  pipe  ?  ”  cry  the  Citoyens,  as  their  door  slams  to  again.1 
My  poor  brother  Citoyens,  oh  surely,  in  a  reign  of  Brotherhood, 
you  are  not  the  two  I  would  guillotine  ! 

Rigor  grows,  stiffens  into  horrid  tyranny ;  Plot  in  the 
Prison  getting  ever  rifer.  This  Plot  in  the  Prison,  as  we  said, 
is  now  the  stereotype  formula  of  Tinville  :  against  whomso¬ 
ever  he  knows  no  crime,  this  is  a  ready-made  crime.  His  Judg¬ 
ment-bar  has  become  unspeakable ;  a  recognized  mockery ; 
known  only  as  the  wicket  one  passes  through,  towards  Death. 
His  indictments  are  drawn  out  in  blank ;  you  insert  the  Names 
after.  He  has  his  moutons,  detestable  traitor  jackals,  who 
report  and  bear  witness  ;  that  they  themselves  may  be  allowed 
to  live,  —  for  a  time.  His  Foumees,  says  the  reproachful 
Collot,  “  shall  in  no  case  exceed  threescore ;  ”  that  is  his  maxi- 
mum.  Nightly  come  his  Tumbrils  to  the  Luxembourg,  with 
the  fatal  Roll-call ;  list  of  the  Fournee  of  to-morrow.  Men 
rush  towards  the  Grate  ;  listen,  if  their  name  be  in  it  ?  One 
deep-drawn  breath,  when  the  name  is  not  in ;  we  live  still  one 
day !  And  yet  some  score  or  scores  of  names  were  in.  Quick 
these,  they  clasp  their  loved  ones  to  their  heart,  one  last  time ; 
with  brief  adieu,  wet-eyed  or  dry-eyed,  they  mount,  and  are 
away.  This  night  to  the  Conciergerie ;  through  the  Palais 
misnamed  of  Justice ,  to  the  Guillotine  to-morrow. 

1  Maison  d’ Arret  de  Port- Libre,  par  Coittant,  &c.  ( Mdmoires  sur  les  Prisons,  ii.) 


Chap.  V.  THE  PRISONS.  413 

Prairial]  June. 

Recklessness,  defiant  levity,  tlie  Stoicism  if  not  of  strength, 
yet  of  weakness,  has  possessed  all  hearts.  Weak  women 
and  Ci-devants,  their  locks  not  yet  made  into  blonde  perukes, 
their  skins  not  yet  tanned  into  breeches,  are  accustomed  to 
“  act  the  Guillotine  ”  by  way  of  pastime.  In  fantastic  mum¬ 
mery,  with  towel-turbans,  blanket-ermine,  a  mock  Sanhedrim 
of  Judges  sits,  a  mock  Tinville  pleads  ;  a  culprit  is  doomed, 
is  guillotined  by  the  oversetting  of  two  chairs.  Sometimes 
we  carry  it  farther :  Tinville  himself,  in  his  turn,  is  doomed, 
and  not  to  the  Guillotine  alone.  With  blackened  face,  hirsute, 
horned,  a  shaggy  Satan  snatches  him  not  unshrieking ;  shows 
him,  with  outstretched  arm  and  voice,  the  fire  that  is  not 
quenched,  the  worm  that  dies  not ;  the  monotony  of  Hell- 
pain,  and  the  What  hour  ?  answered  by,  It  is  Eternity I 

And  still  the  Prisons  fill  fuller,  and  still  the  Guillotine 
goes  faster.  On  all  high  roads  march  flights  of  Prisoners, 
wending  towards  Paris.  Not  Ci-devants  now  ;  they,  the  noisy 
of  them,  are  mown  down  ;  it  is  Republicans  now.  Chained 
two  and  two  they  march;  in  exasperated  moments  singing 
their  Marseillaise.  A  hundred  and  thirty-two  men  of  Nantes, 
for  instance,  march  towards  Paris,  in  these  same  days  :  Re¬ 
publicans,  or  say  even  Jacobins  to  the  marrow  of  the  bone  ; 
but  Jacobins  who  had  not  approved  Noyading.2  Vive  la  Re- 
publique  rises  from  them  in  all  streets  of  towns  :  they  rest 
by  night  in  unutterable  noisome  dens,  crowded  to  choking; 
one  or  two  dead  on  the  morrow.  They  are  wayworn,  weary 
of  heart ;  can  only  shout :  Live  the  Republic ;  we,  as  under 
horrid  enchantment,  dying  in  this  way  for  it ! 

Some  Four  Hundred  Priests,  of  whom  also  there  is  record, 
ride  at  anchor  “  in  the  roads  of  the  Isle  of  Aix,”  long  months  ; 
looking  out  on  misery,  vacuity,  waste  Sands  of  Oleron  and 
the  ever-moaning  brine.  Ragged,  sordid,  hungry ;  wasted  to 
shadows :  eating  their  unclean  ration  on  deck,  circularly,  in 
parties  of  a  dozen,  with  finger  and  thumb ;  beating  their 
scandalous  clothes  between  two  stones ;  choked  in  horrible 
miasmata,  closed  under  hatches,  seventy  of  them  in  a  berth, 

1  Montgaillard,  iv.  218;  Riouffe,  p.  273. 

2  Voyage  de  Cent  Trente-deux  Nantais  [Prisons,  ii.  288-335). 


414 


THERMIDOR. 


Book  XIX. 
1794  [Year  2. 


through  night ;  so  that  the  “  aged  Priest  is  found  lying  dead 
in  the  morning,  in  the  attitude  of  prayer !  ”  1  —  How  long,  0 
Lord! 

Not  forever ;  no.  All  Anarchy,  all  Evil,  Injustice,  is,  by 
the  nature  of  it,  dragon’ s-teeth  ;  suicidal,  and  cannot  endure. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TO  FINISH  THE  TERROR. 

It  is  very  remarkable,  indeed,  that  since  the  Etre-Supreme 
Feast,  and  the  sublime  continued  harangues  on  it,  which 
Billaud  feared  would  become  a  bore  to  him,  Robespierre  has 
gone  little  to  Committee ;  but  held  himself  apart,  as  if  in 
a  kind  of  pet.  Nay  they  have  made  a  Report  on  that  old 
Catherine  Theot,  and  her  Regenerative  Man  spoken  of  by 
the  Prophets  ;  not  in  the  best  spirit.  This  Theot  mystery 
they  affect  to  regard  as  a  Plot ;  but  have  evidently  intro¬ 
duced  a  vein  of  satire,  of  irreverent  banter,  not  against  the 
Spinster  alone,  but  obliquely  against  her  Regenerative  Man  ! 
Barrere’s  light  pen  was  perhaps  at  the  bottom  of  it :  read 
through  the  solemn  snuffling  organs  of  old  Yadier  of  the 
Surete  Generate,  the  Th4ot  Report  had  its  effect ;  wrinkling 
the  general  Republican  visage  into  an  iron  grin.  Ought  these 
things  to  be  ? 

We  note  farther,  that  among  the  Prisoners  in  the  Twelve 
Houses  of  Arrest,  there  is  one  whom  we  have  seen  before. 
Senhora  Fontenai,  born  Cabarus,  the  fair  Proserpine  whom 
Representative  Tallien  Pluto-like  did  gather  at  Bordeaux, 
not  without  effect  on  himself!  Tallien  is  home,  by  recall, 
long  since,  from  Bordeaux  ;  and  in  the  most  alarming  posi¬ 
tion.  Vain  that  he  sounded,  louder  even  than  ever,  the  note 
of  Jacobinism,  to  hide  past  shortcomings ;  the  Jacobins  purged 
him  out ;  two  times  has  Robespierre  growled  at  him  words  of 

1  Relation  de  ce  qu’ont  sovffert  pour  la  Religion  les  Pretres  de'portes  en  1794, 
dans  la  rade  de  Vile  d’Aix  (lb.  ii.  387-485). 


Chap.  VI.  TO  FINISH  THE  TERROR.  415 

Messidor]  July. 

omen  from  the  Convention  Tribune.  And  now  liis  fair  Caba- 
rus,  hit  by  denunciation,  lies  Arrested,  Suspect,  in  spite  of 
all  he  could  do  !  —  Shut  in  horrid  pinfold  of  death,  the  Sen- 
hora  smuggles  out  to  her  red-gloomy  Tallien  the  most  press¬ 
ing  entreaties  and  conjurings  :  Save  me  ;  save  thyself.  Seest 
thou  not  that  thy  own  head  is  doomed ;  thou  with  a  too  fiery 
audacity ;  a  Dantonist  withal ;  against  whom  lie  grudges  ? 
Are  ye  not  all  doomed,  as  in  the  Polyphemus  Cavern :  the 
fawningest  slave  of  you  will  be  but  eaten  last !  —  Tallien  feels 
with  a  shudder  that  it  is  true.  Tallien  has  had  words  of 
omen,  Bourdon  has  had  words,  Freron  is  hated  and  Barras  : 
each  man  “feels  his  head  if  it  yet  stick  on  his  shoulders.” 

Meanwhile  Robespierre,  we  still  observe,  goes  little  to 
Convention,  not  at  all  to  Committee ;  speaks  nothing  except 
to  his  Jacobin  House  of  Lords,  amid  his  body-guard  of  Tap} oe- 
durs.  These  “forty  days,”  for.  we  are  now  far  in  July,  he 
has  not  showed  face  in  Committee ;  could  only  work  there 
by  his  three  shallow  scoundrels,  and  the  terror  there  was  of 
him.  The  Incorruptible  himself  sits  apart;  or  is  seen  stalk¬ 
ing  in  solitary  places  in  the  fields,  with  an  intensely  medi¬ 
tative  air ;  some  say,  “  with  eyes  red-spotted,”  1  fruit  of  ex¬ 
treme  bile :  the  lamentablest  sea-green  Chimera  that  walks 
the  Earth  that  July!  0  hapless  Chimera,  —  for  thou  too 
hadst  a  life,  and  heart  of  flesh,  —  what  is  this  that  the  stern 
gods,  seeming  to  smile  all  the  way,  have  led  and  let  thee  to  ! 
Art  not  thou  he,  who,  few  years  ago,  was  a  young  Advocate 
of  promise ;  and  gave  up  the  Arras  Judgeship  rather  than  sen¬ 
tence  one  man  to  die  ?  — 

What  his  thoughts  might  be  ?  His  plans  for  finishing  the 
Terror  ?  One  knows  not.  Dim  vestiges  there  flit  of  Agrarian 
Law ;  a  victorious  Sansculottism  become  Landed  Proprietor ; 
old  Soldiers  sitting  in  National  Mansions,  in  Hospital  Palaces 
of  Chambord  and  Chantilly;  peace  bought  by  victory;  breaches 
healed  by  Feast  of  JEtre  Supreme  ;  —  and  so,  through  seas  of 
blood,  to  Equality,  Frugality,  worksome  Blessedness,  Fra¬ 
ternity,  and  Republic  of  the  virtues.  Blessed  shore,  of  such 
a  sea  of  Aristocrat  blood :  but  how  to  land  on  it  ?  Through 

1  Deux  Amis,  xii.  347-373. 


THERMIDOR. 


416 


Book  XIX. 
1794  [Year  2. 


one  last  wave :  blood  of  corrupt  Sansculottists ;  traitorous  or 
semi-traitorous  Conventional,  rebellious  Talliens,  Billauds,  to 
whom  with  my  Eire  Supreme  I  have  become  a  bore ;  with 
my  Apocalyptic  Old  Woman  a  laughing-stock!  —  So  stalks 
he,  this  poor  Robespierre,  like  a  sea-green  ghost,  through  the 
blooming  July.  Vestiges  of  schemes  flit  dim.  But  what  his 
schemes  or  his  thoughts  were  will  never  be  known  to  man. 

New  Catacombs,  some  say,  are  digging  for  a  huge  simul¬ 
taneous  butchery.  Convention  to  be  butchered,  down  to  the 
right  pitch,  by  General  Henriot  and  Company ;  Jacobin  House 
of  Lords  made  dominant ;  and  Robespierre  Dictator.1  There 
is  actually,  or  else  there  is  not  actually,  a  List  made  out ; 
which  the  Hair-dresser  has  got  eye  on,  as  he  frizzled  the 
Incorruptible  locks.  Each  man  asks  himself,  Is  it  I  ? 

Nay,  as  Tradition  and  rumor  of  Anecdote  still  convey  it, 
there  was  a  remarkable  bachelor’s  dinner,  one  hot  day,  at 
Barrere’s.  For  doubt  not,  0  Reader,  this  Barrere  and  others 
of  them  gave  dinners ;  had  “  country-house  at  Clichy,”  with 
elegant  enough  sumptuosities,  and  pleasures  high-rouged.2  But 
at  this  dinner  we  speak  of,  the  day  being  so  hot,  it  is  said, 
the  guests  all  stript  their  coats,  and  left  them  in  the  drawing¬ 
room  :  from  the  dinner-table  Carnot  glided  out,  driven  by  a 
necessity,  needing  of  all  things  paper  ;  groped  in  Robespierre’s 
pocket;  found  a  list  of  Forty,  his  own  name  among  them;  — 
and  tarried  not  at  the  ydne-cup  that  day!  —  Ye  must  bestir 
yourselves,  0  Friends ;  ye  dull  Frogs  of  the  Marsh,  mute  ever 
since  Girondism  sank  under,  even  you  now  must  croak  or  die ! 
Councils  are  held,  with  word  and  beck ;  nocturnal,  mysterious 
as  death.  Does  not  a  feline  Maximilien  stalk  there ;  voice¬ 
less  as  yet;  his  green  eyes  red-spotted;  back  bent,  and  hair 
up  ?  Rash  Tallien,  with  his  rash  temper  and  audacity  of 
tongue ;  he  shall  bell  the  cat.  Fix  a  day ;  and  be  it  soon,  lest 
never ! 

Lo,  before  the  fixed  day,  on  the  day  which  they  call  Eighth 
of  Thermidor,  26th  July,  1794,  Robespierre  himself  reappears 
in  Convention ;  mounts  to  the  Tribune !  The  biliary  face 
seems  clouded  with  new  gloom :  judge  whether  your  Talliens, 


1  Deux  Amis,  xii.  350-358. 


2  See  Yilate. 


Chap.  VI.  TO  FINISH  THE  TERROR.  41 T 

Therm.  8]  July  26. 

Bourdons,  listened  with,  interest.  It  is  a  voice  bodeful  of 
death  or  of  life.  Long-winded,  unmelodious  as  the  screech- 
owl’s,  sounds  that  prophetic  voice :  Degenerate  condition  of 
Republican  spirit ;  corrupt  Moderatism ;  Surete,  Salut  Com¬ 
mittees  themselves  infected  j  backsliding  on  this  hand  and  on 
that ;  I,  Maximilien,  alone  left  incorruptible,  ready  to  die  at 
a  moment’s  warning.  For  all  which  what  remedy  is  there  ? 
The  Guillotine ;  new  vigor  to  the  all-healing  Guillotine ;  death 
to  traitors  of  every  hue !  So  sings  the  prophetic  voice ;  into 
its  Convention  sounding-board.  The  old  song  this :  but  to¬ 
day,  0  Heavens,  has  the  sounding-board  ceased  to  act  ?  There 
is  not  resonance  in  this  Convention ;  there  is,  so  to  speak,  a 
gasp  of  silence ;  nay  a  certain  grating  of  one  knows  not 
what !  —  Lecointre,  our  old  Draper  of  Versailles,  in  these 
questionable  circumstances,  sees  nothing  he  can  do  so  safe 
as  rise,  “  insidiously  ”  or  not  insidiously,  and  move,  accord¬ 
ing  to  established  wont,  that  the  Robespierre  Speech  be 
“printed  and  sent  to  the  Departments.”  Hark:  gratings, 
even  of  dissonance  !  Honorable  Members  hint  dissonance ; 
Committee-Members,  inculpated  in  the  Speech,  utter  disso¬ 
nance,  demand  “  delay  in  printing.”  Ever  higher  rises  the 
note  of  dissonance ;  inquiry  is  even  made  by  Editor  Ereron : 
“What  has  become  of  the  Liberty  of  Opinions  in  this  Con¬ 
vention  ?  ”  The  Order  to  print  and  transmit,  which  had  got 
passed,  is  rescinded.  Robespierre,  greener  than  ever  before, 
has  to  retire,  foiled ;  discerning  that  it  is  mutiny,  that  evil 
is  nigh ! 

Mutiny  is  a  thing  of  the  fatalest  nature  in  all  enterprises 
whatsoever  ;  a  thing  so  incalculable,  swift-frightful :  not  to  be 
dealt  with  in  fright.  But  mutiny  in  a  Robespierre  Conven¬ 
tion,  above  all,  —  it  is  like  fire  seen  sputtering  in  the  ship’s 
powder-room !  One  death-defiant  plunge  at  it,  this  moment, 
and  you  may  still  tread  it  out :  hesitate  till  next  moment,  — 
ship  and  ship’s  captain,  crew  and  cargo  are  shivered  far ;  the 
ship’s  voyage  has  suddenly  ended  between  sea  and  sky.  If 
Robespierre  can,  to-night,  produce  his  Henriot  and  Company, 
and  get  his  work  done  by  them,  he  and  Sansculottism  may 
vol.  iv.  27 


418  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX 

1794  [Year  2. 

still  subsist  some  time ;  if  not,  probably  not.  Oliver  Crom¬ 
well,  when  that  Agitator  Sergeant  stept  forth  from  the  ranks, 
with  plea  of  grievances,  and  began  gesticulating  and  demon¬ 
strating,  as  the  mouthpiece  of  Thousands  expectant  there, — 
discerned,  with  those  truculent  eyes  of  his,  how  the  matter 
lay;,  plucked  a  pistol  from  his  holsters;  blew  Agitator  and 
Agitation  instantly  out.  Noll  was  a  man  fit  for  such  things. 

Robespierre,  for  his  part,  glides  over  at  evening  to  his 
J acobin  House  of  Lords ;  unfolds  there,  instead  of  some  ade¬ 
quate  resolution,  his  woes,  his  uncommon  virtues,  incorrupti¬ 
bilities  ;  then,  secondly,  his  rejected  screech-owl  Oration;  — 
reads  this  latter  over  again ;  and  declares  that  he  is  ready 
to  die  at  a  moment’s  warning.  Thou  shalt  not  die  !  shouts 
Jacobinism  from  its  thousand  throats.  “  Robespierre,  I  will 
drink  the  hemlock  with  thee,”  cries  Painter  David,  “  Je  boirai 
la  cigue  avec  toi  —  a  thing  not  essential  to  do,  but  which,  in 
the  fire  of  the  moment,  can  be  said. 

Our  J  acobin  sounding-board,  therefore,  does  act !  Applauses 
heaven-high  cover  the  rejected  Oration ;  fire-eyed  fury  lights 
all  Jacobin  features:  Insurrection  a  sacred  duty;  the  Con¬ 
vention  to  be  purged ;  Sovereign  People  under  Henriot  and 
Municipality ;  we  will  make  a  new  June-Second  of  it :  To 
your  tents,  0  Israel!  In  this  key  pipes  Jacobinism;  in  sheer 
tumult  of  revolt.  Let  Tallien  and  all  Opposition  men  make 
off.  Collot-d’Herbois,  though  of  the  supreme  Salut,  and  so 
lately  near  shot,  is  elbowed,  bullied ;  is  glad  to  escape  alive. 
Entering  Committee-room  of  Salut,  all  dishevelled,  he  finds 
sleek  sombre  Saint-J ust  there,  among  the  rest ;  who  in  his 
sleek  way  asks,  “  What  is  passing  at  the  Jacobins  ?  ” —  “  What 
is  passing  ?  ”  repeats  Collot,  in  the  unhistrionic  Cambyses’ 
vein:  “What  is  passing?  Nothing  but  revolt  and  horrors 
are  passing.  Ye  want  our  lives  ;  ye  shall  not  have  them.” 
Saint- Just  stutters  at  such  Cainbyses  oratory ;  takes  his  hat 
to  withdraw.  That  Report  he  had  been  speaking  of,  Report 
on  Republican  Things  in  General  we  may  say,  which  is  to  be 
read  in  Convention  on  the  morrow,  he  cannot  show  it  them,  at 
this  moment:  a  friend  has  it;  he,  Saint-Just,  will  get  it,  and 
send  it,  were  he  once  home.  '  Once  home,  he  sends  not  it,  but 


419 


Chap.  VII.  GO  DOWN  TO. 

Therm.  9]  July  27. 

an  answer  that  he  will  not  send  it ;  that  they  will  hear  it  from 
the  Tribune  to-morrow. 

Let  every  man,  therefore,  according  to  a  well-known  good- 
advice,  “  pray  to  Heaven,  and  keep  his  powder  dry  ”  !  Paris, 
on  the  morrow,  will  see  a  thing.  Swift  scouts  fly  dim  or 
invisible,  all  night,  from  Surete  and  Salut ;  from  conclave 
to  conclave;  from  Mother  Society  to  Town-hall.  Sleep,  can 
it  fall  on  the  eyes  of  Talliens,  Frerons,  Collots  ?  Puissant 
Henriot,  Mayor  Fleuriot,  Judge  Coffinhal,  Procureur  Pay  an, 
Eobespierre  and  all  the  Jacobins  are  getting  ready. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

GO  DOWN  TO. 

Tallien’s  eyes  beamed  bright,  on  the  morrow,  Ninth  of 
Thermidor,  “about  nine  o’clock,”  to  see  that  the  Convention 
had  actually  met.  Paris  is  in  rumor :  but  at  least  we  are  met, 
in  Legal  Convention  here ;  we  have  not  been  snatched  seria¬ 
tim  ;  treated  with  a  Pride’s  Purge  at  the  door.  “  Allons,  brave 
men  of  the  Plain,”  late  Frogs  of  the  Marsh !  cried  Tallien 
with  a  squeeze  of  the  hand,  as  he  passed  in;  Saint-Just’s 
sonorous  voice  being  now  audible  from  the  Tribune,  and  the 
game  of  games  begun. 

Saint- Just  is  verily  reading  that  Eeport  of  his ;  green  Ven¬ 
geance,  in  the  shape  of  Eobespierre,  watching  nigh.  Behold, 
however,  Saint- Just  has  read  but  few  sentences,  when  inter¬ 
ruption  rises,  rapid  crescendo ;  when  Tallien  starts  to  his  feet, 
and  Billaud,  and  this  man  starts  and  that, — and  Tallien,  a 
second  time,  with  his:  “Citoyens,  at  the  Jacobins  last  night, 
I  trembled  for  the  Eepublic.  I  said  to  myself,  if  the  Conven¬ 
tion  dare  not  strike  the  Tyrant,  then  I  myself  dare ;  and  with 
this  I  will  do  it,  if  need  be,”  said  he,  whisking  out  a  clear- 
gleaming  Dagger,  and  brandishing  it  there  ;  the  Steel  of  Brutus, 
as  we  call  it.  Whereat  we  all  bellow,  and  brandish,  impetuous 
acclaim.  “  Tyranny !  Dictatorship !  Triumvirate !  ”  And  the 


420  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

Salut  Committee-men  accuse,  and  all  men  accuse,  and.  uproar, 
and  impetuously  acclaim.  And  Saint-Just  is  standing  motion¬ 
less,  pale  of  face ;  Couthon  ejaculating,  “  Triumvir  ?  ”  with  a 
look  at  his  paralytic  legs.  And  Robespierre  is  struggling  to 
speak,  but  President  Thuriot  is  jingling  the  bell  against  him, 
but  the  Hall  is  sounding  against  him  like  an  JEolus-Hall :  and 
Robespierre  is  mounting  the  Tribune-steps  and  descending 
again ;  going  and  coming,  like  to  choke  with  rage,  terror,  des¬ 
peration  :  —  and  mutiny  is  the  order  of  the  day.1 

0  President  Thuriot,  thou  that  wert  Elector  Thuriot,  and 
from  the  Bastille  battlements  sawest  Saint-Antoine  rising  like 
the  Ocean-tide,  and  hast  seen  much  since,  sawest  thou  ever  the 
like  of  this  ?  Jingle  of  bell,  which  thou  jinglest  against 
Robespierre,  is  hardly  audible  amid  the  Bedlam  storm ;  and 
men  rage  for  life.  “  President  of  Assassins,”  shrieks  Robes¬ 
pierre,  “  I  demand  speech  of  thee  for  the  last  time  !  ”  It  can¬ 
not  be  had.  “  To  you,  0  virtuous  men  of  the  Plain,”  cries  he, 
finding  audience  one  moment,  “  I  appeal  to  you !  ”  The  vir¬ 
tuous  men  of  the  Plain  sit  silent  as  stones.  And  Thuriot’s 
bell  jingles,  and  the  Hall  sounds  like  iEolus’s  Hall.  Robes¬ 
pierre’s  frothing  lips  are  grown  “  blue ;  ”  his  tongue  dry,  cleav¬ 
ing  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  “  The  blood  of  Danton  chokes 
him,”  cry  they.  “  Accusation !  Decree  of  Accusation  !  ”  Thu¬ 
riot  swiftly  puts  that  question.  Accusation  passes ;  the  incor¬ 
ruptible  Maximilien  is  decreed  Accused. 

“  I  demand  to  share  my  Brother’s  fate,  as  I  have  striven  to 
share  his  virtues,”  cries  Augustin,  the  Younger  Robespierre  : 
Augustin  also  is  decreed.  And  Couthon,  and  Saint- Just,  and 
Lebas,  they  all  are  decreed ;  and  packed  forth,  —  not  without 
difficulty,  the  Ushers  almost  trembling  to  obey.  Triumvirate 
and  Company  are  packed  forth,  into  Salut  Committee-room; 
their  tongue  cleaving  to  the  roof  of  their  mouth.  You  have 
but  to  summon  the  Municipality ;  to  cashier  Commandant 
Henriot,  and  launch  Arrest  at  him ;  to  regulate  formalities ; 
hand  Tinville  his  victims.  It  is  noon :  the  iEolus-Hall  has 
delivered  itself;  blows  now  victorious,  harmonious,  as  one 
irresistible  wind. 

1  Moniteur,  Nos.  311,  312;  Debats,  iv.  421-442;  Deux  Amis,  xii.  390-411. 


T  ALLIEN. 


Chap.  VII.  GO  DOWN  TO.  421 

Therm.  9]  July  27. 

And  so  the  work  is  finished  ?  One  thinks  so  :  and  yet  it  is 
not  so.  Alas,  there  is  yet  but  the  first  act  finished  ;  three  or 
four  other  acts  still  to  come ;  and  an  uncertain  catastrophe  ! 
A  huge  City  holds  in  it  so  many  confusions :  seven  hundred 
thousand  human  heads ;  not  one  of  which  knows  what  its 
neighbor  is  doing,  nay  not  what  itself  is  doing.  —  See,  accord¬ 
ingly,  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  Commandant  Henriot, 
how  instead  of  sitting  cashiered,  arrested,  he  gallops  along 
the  Quais,  followed  by  Municipal  Gendarmes,  “  trampling  down 
several  persons  !  ”  For  the  Town-hall  sits  deliberating,  openly 
insurgent :  Barriers  to  be  shut ;  no  Jailer  to  admit  any  Pris¬ 
oner  this  day  ;  —  and  Henriot  is  galloping  towards  the  Tuile- 
ries,  to  deliver  Bobespierre.  On  the  Quai  de  la-  Ferraillerie,  a 
young  Citoyen,  walking  with  his  wife,  says  aloud:  “ Gen¬ 
darmes,  that  man  is  not  your  Commandant ;  he  is  under  ar¬ 
rest.”  The  Gendarmes  strike  down  the  young  Citoyen  with 
the  flat  of  their  swords.1 

Bepresentatives  themselves  (as  Merlin  the  Thionviller),  who 
accost  him,  this  puissant  Henriot  flings  into  guard-houses.  He 
bursts  towards  the  Tuileries  Committee-room,  “  to  speak  with 
Bobespierre  with  difficulty,  the  Ushers  and  Tuileries  Gen¬ 
darmes,  earnestly  pleading  and  drawing  sabre,  seize  this  Hen¬ 
riot  ;  get  the  Henriot  Gendarmes  persuaded  not  to  fight ;  get 
Bobespierre  and  Company  packed  into  hackney-coaches,  sent 
off  under  escort,  to  the  Luxembourg  and  other  Prisons.  This, 
then,  is  the  end  ?  May  not  an  exhausted  Convention  adjourn 
now,  for  a  little  repose  and  sustenance,  “  at  five  o’clock  ”  ? 

An  exhausted  Convention  did  it ;  and  repented  it.  The  end 
was  not  come ;  only  the  end  of  the  second  act.  Hark,  while 
exhausted  Bepresentatives  sit  at  victuals,  —  tocsin  bursting 
from  all  steeples,  drums  rolling,  in  the  summer  evening : 
Judge  Coffinhal  is  galloping  with  new  Gendarmes,  to  deliver 
Henriot  from  Tuileries  Committee-room ;  and  does  deliver 
him !  Puissant  Henriot  vaults  on  horseback ;  sets  to  ha¬ 
ranguing  the  Tuileries  Gendarmes ;  corrupts  the  Tuileries 
Gendarmes  too ;  trots  off  with  them  to  Town-hall.  Alas,  and 

1  Prdris  des  Evenemens  du  Neuf  Thermidor,  par  C.  A.  Meda,  ancien  Gen¬ 
darme  (Paris,  1825). 


422 


THERMIDOR. 


Book  XIX. 
1794  [Year  2. 

Robespierre  is  not  in  Prison  :  the  J ailer  showed  his  Muni¬ 
cipal  order,  durst  not,  on  pain  of  his  life,  admit  any  Prisoner ; 
the  Robespierre  Hackney-coaches,  in  this  confused  jangle  and 
whirl  of  uncertain  Gendarmes,  have  floated  safe  —  into  the 
Town-hall !  There  sit  Robespierre  and  Company,  embraced  by 
Municipals  and  Jacobins,  in  sacred  right  of  Insurrection;  re¬ 
dacting  Proclamations  ;  sounding  tocsins  ;  corresponding  with 
Sections  and  Mother  Society.  Is  not  here  a  pretty  enough 
third  act  of  a  natural  Greek  Drama;  catastrophe  more  un¬ 
certain  than  ever  ? 

The  hasty  Convention  rushes  together  again,  in  the  ominous 
nightfall :  President  Collot,  for  the  chair  is  his,  enters  with 
long  strides,  paleness  on  his  face ;  claps  on  his  hat ;  says  with 
solemn  tone  :  “  Citoyens,  armed  Villains  have  beset  the  Com¬ 
mittee-rooms,  and  got  possession  of  them.  The  hour  is  come, 
to  die  at  our  post !  ”  “  Oui,”  answer  one  and  all :  “  We  swear 

it !  ”  It  is  no  rhodomontade,  this  time,  but  a  sad  fact  and 
necessity;  unless  we  do  at  our  posts,  we  must  verily  die. 
Swift  therefore,  Robespierre,  Henriot,  the  Municipality,  are 
declared  Rebels ;  put  Hors  la  Loi,  Out  of  Law.  Better  still, 
we  appoint  Barras  Commandant  of  what  Armed-force  is  to 
be  had ;  send  Missionary  Representatives  to  all  Sections  and 
quarters,  to  preach,  and  raise  force ;  will  die  at  least  with 
harness  on  our  back. 

What  a  distracted  City ;  men  riding  and  running,  report¬ 
ing  and  hearsaying  ;  the  Hour  clearly  in  travail,  —  child  not 
to  be  named  till  born !  The  poor  Prisoners  in  the  Luxem¬ 
bourg  hear  the  rumor ;  tremble  for  a  new  September.  They 
see  men  making  signals  to  them,  on  skylights  and  roofs,  ap¬ 
parently  signals  of  hope;  cannot  in  the  least  make  out  what 
it  is.1  We  observe,  however,  in  the  eventide,  as  usual,  the 
Death-tumbrils  faring  Southeastward,  through  Saint- Antoine, 
towards  their  Barrier  du  Trone.  Saint- Antoine’s  tough  bowels 
melt ;  Saint- Antoine  surrounds  the  Tumbrils ;  says,  It  shall 
not  be.  0  Heavens,  why  should  it !  Henriot  and  Gendarmes, 
scouring  the  streets  that  way,  bellow,  with  waved  sabres,  that  it 
must.  Quit  hope,  ye  poor  Doomed !  The  Tumbrils  move  on. 

1  Me  moires  sur  les  Prisons,  ii.  277. 


GO  DOWN  TO. 


423 


Chap.  VII. 

Therm.  9]  July  27. 

But  in  this  set  of  Tumbrils  there  are  two  other  things  nota¬ 
ble  :  one  notable  person ;  and  one  want  of  a  notable  person. 
The  notable  person  is  Lieutenant-General  Loiserolles,  a  noble¬ 
man  by  birth  and  by  nature ;  laying  down  his  life  here  for 
his  son.  In  the  Prison  of  Saint-Lazare,  the  night  before  last, 
hurrying  to  the  Grate  to  hear  the  Death-list  read,  he  caught 
the  name  of  his  son.  The  son  was  asleep  at  the  moment.  “  I 
am  Loiserolles,”  cried  the  old  man :  at  Tinville’s  bar,  an  error 
in  the  Christian  name  is  little  ;  small  objection  was  made.  — 
The  want  of  the  notable  person,  again,  is  that  of  Deputy 
Paine !  Paine  has  sat  in  the  Luxembourg  since  January  ;  and 
seemed  forgotten ;  but  Pouquier  had  pricked  him  at  last.  The 
Turnkey,  List  in  hand,  is  marking  with  chalk  the  outer  doors 
of  to-morrow’s  Fournee.  Paine’s  outer  door  happened  to  be 
open,  turned  back  on  the  wall ;  the  Turnkey  marked  it  on  the 
side  next  him,  and  hurried  on  :  another  Turnkey  came,  and 
shut  it ;  no  chalk-mark  now  visible,  the  Fournee  went  without 
Paine.  Paine’s  life  lay  not  there.  — 

Our  fifth  act,  of  this  natural  Greek  Drama,  with  its  natural 
unities,  can  only  be  painted  in  gross ;  somewhat  as  that  an¬ 
tique  Painter,  driven  desperate,  did  the  foam.  Por  through 
this  blessed  July  night,  there  is  clangor,  confusion  very  great, 
of  marching  troops ;  of  Sections  going  this  way,  Sections  going 
that;  of  Missionary  Eepresentatives  reading  Proclamations 
by  torchlight ;  Missionary  Legendre,  who  has  raised  force 
somewhere,  emptying  out  the  Jacobins,  and  flinging  their  key 
on  the  Convention  table  :  “  I  have  locked  their  door  ;  it  shall 
be  Virtue  that  reopens  it.”  Paris,  we  say,  is  set  against  itself, 
rushing  confused,  as  Ocean-currents  do ;  a  huge  Mahlstrom, 
sounding  there,  under  cloud  of  night.  Convention  sits  perma¬ 
nent  on  this  hand ;  Municipality  most  permanent  on  that.  The 
poor  prisoners  hear  tocsin  and  rumor  ;  strive  to  bethink  them 
of  the  signals  apparently  of  hope.  Meek  continual  Twilight 
streaming  up,  which  will  be  Dawn  and  a  To-morrow,  silvers 
the  Northern  hem  of  Night ;  it  wends  and  wends  there,  that 
meek  brightness,  like  a  silent  prophecy,  along  the  great  ring- 
dial  of  the  Heaven.  So  still,  eternal !  and  on  Earth  all  is  con¬ 
fused  shadow  and  conflict ;  dissidence,  tumultuous  gloom  and 


424  THERMIDOR.  Book  XIX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

glare  ;  and  “  Destiny  as  yet  sits  wavering,  and  shakes  her 
doubtful  urn.” 

About  three  in  the  morning  the  dissident  Armed-forces 
have  met .  Henriot’s  Armed-force  stood  ranked  in  the  Place 
de  Greve  ;  and  now  Barras’s,  which  he  has  recruited,  arrives 
there ;  and  they  front  each  other,  cannon  bristling  against 
cannon.  Citoyens !  cries  the  voice  of  Discretion  loudly  enough, 
Before  coming  to  bloodshed,  to  endless  civil-war,  hear  the 
Convention  Decree  read :  “  Robespierre  and  all  rebels  Out  of 
Law  !  ”  —  Out  of  Law  ?  There  is  terror  in  the  sound.  Un¬ 
armed  Citoyens  disperse  rapidly  home.  Municipal  Cannon¬ 
eers,  in  sudden  whirl,  anxiously  unanimous,  range  themselves 
on  the  Convention  side,  with  shouting.  At  which  shout,  Hen- 
riot  descends  from  his  upper  room,  far  gone  in  drink  as  some 
say;  finds  his  Place  de  Greve  empty;  the  cannons’  mouth 
turned  toivards  him ;  and  on  the  whole,  —  that  it  is  now  the 
catastrophe ! 

Stumbling  in  again,  the  wretched  drunk-sobered  Henriot  an¬ 
nounces  :  “  All  is  lost !  ”  “  Miserable ,  it  is  thou  that  hast  lost 
it !  ”  cry  they ;  and  fling  him,  or  else  he  flings  himself,  out 
of  window :  far  enough  down  ;  into  mason-work  and  horror  of 
cesspool ;  not  into  death  but  worse.  Augustin  Robespierre 
follows  him ;  with  the  like  fate.  Saint- Just,  they  say,  called 
on  Lebas  to  kill  him  ;  who  would  not.  Couthon  crept  under  a 
table  ;  attempting  to  kill  himself ;  not  doing  it.  —  On  entering 
that  Sanhedrim  of  Insurrection,  we  find  all  as  good  as  extinct ; 
undone,  ready  for  seizure.  Robespierre  was  sitting  on  a  chair, 
with  pistol-shot  blown  through  not  his  head  but  his  under¬ 
jaw;  the  suicidal  hand  had  failed.1  With  prompt  zeal,  not 
without  trouble,  we  gather  these  wrecked  Conspirators  ;  fish  up 
even  Henriot  and  Augustin,  bleeding  and  foul ;  pack  them  all, 
rudely  enough,  into  carts  ;  and  shall,  before  sunrise,  have  them 
safe  under  lock  and  key.  Amid  shoutings  and  embracings. 

Robespierre  lay  in  an  anteroom  of  the  Convention  Hall, 

1  Meda,  p.  384.  (Me'da  asserts  that  it  was  he  who,  with  infinite  courage 
though  in  a  left-handed  manner,  shot  Robespierre.  Meda  got  promoted  for 
his  services  of  this  night;  and  died  General  and  Baron.  Few  credited  Meda 
in  what  was  otherwise  incredible.) 


ROBESPIERRE  WOUNDED  AND  ARRESTED. 


GO  DOWN  TO. 


425 


CiiAr.  VII. 

Therm.  10]  July  28. 

while  his  Prison-escort  was  getting  ready ;  the  mangled  jaw 
bound  up  rudely  with  bloody  linen  :  a  spectacle  to  men.  He 
lies  stretched  on  a  table,  a  deal-box  liis  pillow ;  the  sheath  of 
the  pistol  is  still  clenched  convulsively  in  his  hand.  Men 
bully  him,  insult  him  :  his  eyes  still  indicate  intelligence  ;  he 
speaks  no  word.  “He  had  on  the  sky-blue  coat  he  had  got 
made  for  the Peast  of  the  Etre  Supreme”  —  0  Header,  can  thy 
hard  heart  hold  out  against  that  ?  His  trousers  were  nankeen  j 
the  stockings  had  fallen  down  over  the  ankles.  He  spake  no 
word  more  in  this  world. 

And  so,  at  six  in  the  morning,  a  victorious  Convention  ad¬ 
journs.  Report  flies  over  Paris  as  on  golden  wings  ;  penetrates 
the  Prisons ;  irradiates  the  faces  of  those  that  were  ready  to 
perish :  turnkeys  and  moutons,  fallen  from  their  high  estate, 
look  mute  and  blue.  It  is  the  28th  day  of  J uly,  called  10th  of 
Thermidor,  year  1794. 

Fouquier  had  but  to  identify ;  his  Prisoners  being  already 
Out  of  Law.  At  four  in  the  afternoon,  never  before  were  the 
streets  of  Paris  seen  so  crowded.  From  the  Palais  de  Justice 
to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  for  thither  again  go  the  Tum¬ 
brils  this  time,  it  is  one  dense  stirring  mass  ;  all  windows 
crammed ;  the  very  roofs  and  ridge-tiles  budding  forth  human 
Curiosity,  in  strange  gladness.  The  Death-tumbrils,  with  their 
motley  Batch  of  Outlaws,  some  twenty-three  or  so,  from  Maxi- 
milien  to  Mayor  Pleuriot  and  Simon  the  Cordwainer,  roll  on. 
All  eyes  are  on  Robespierre’s  Tumbril,  where  he,  his  jaw 
bound  in  dirty  linen,  with  his  half-dead  Brother  and  half-dead 
Henriot,  lie  shattered ;  their  “  seventeen  hours  ”  of  agony 
about  to  end.  The  Gendarmes  point  their  swords  at  him,  to 
show  the  people  which  is  he.  A  woman  springs  on  the  Tum¬ 
bril  ;  clutching  the  side  of  it  with  one  hand,  waving  the  other 
Sibyl-like  ;  and  exclaims :  “  The  death  of  thee  gladdens  my 
very  heart,  m’enivre  de  joie ;  ”  Robespierre  opened  his  eyes  ; 
“  Scelerat ,  go  down  to  Hell,  with  the  curses  of  all  wives  and 
mothers  !  ”  —  At  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  they  stretched  him 
on  the  ground  till  his  turn  came.  Lifted  aloft,  his  eyes  again 
opened;  caught  the  bloody  axe.  Samson  wrenched  the  coat 
off  him  ;  wrenched  the  dirty  linen  from  his  jaw  :  the  jaw  fell 


426 


THERMIDOR. 


Book  XIX. 
1794  [Year  2. 

powerless,  there  burst  from  him  a  cry  ;  —  hideous  to  hear  and 
see.  Samson,  thou  canst  not  be  too  quick  ! 

Samson’s  work  done,  there  bursts  forth  shout  on  shout  of 
applause.  Shout,  which  prolongs  itself  not  only  over  Paris, 
but  over  France,  but  over  Europe,  and  down  to  this  generation. 
Deservedly,  and  also  undeservedly.  0  unliappiest  Advocate  of 
Arras,  wert  thou  worse  than  other  Advocates  ?  Stricter  man, 
according  to  his  Formula,  to  his  Credo  and  his  Cant,  of  probi¬ 
ties,  benevolences,  pleasures-of-virtue,  and  such  like,  lived  not 
in  that  age.  A  man  fitted,  in  some  luckier  settled  age,  to  have 
become  one  of  those  incorruptible  barren  Pattern-Figures,  and 
have  had  marble-tablets  and  funeral-sermons.  His  poor  land¬ 
lord,  the  Cabinet-maker  in  the  Rue  Saint-Honore,  loved  him ; 
his  Brother  died  for  him.  May  God  be  merciful  to  him  and 
to  us  ! 

This  is  the  end  of  the  Reign  of  Terror ;  new  glorious  Revo¬ 
lution  named  of  Thermidor ;  of  Thermidor  9th,  year  2;  which 
being  interpreted  into  old  slave-style  means  27th  of  July, 
1794.  Terror  is  ended;  and  death  in  the  Place  de  la  Revolu¬ 
tion,  were  the  “  Tail  of  Robespierre  ”  once  executed ;  which 
service  Fouquier,  in  large  Batches,  is  swiftly  managing. 


BOOK  XX. 

YEND^MIAIRE. 


- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  I. 

DECADENT. 

How  little  did  any  one  suppose  that  here  was  the  end  not 
of  Robespierre  only,  but  of  the  Revolution  System  itself ! 
Least  of  all  did  the  mutinying  Committee-men  suppose  it; 
who  had  mutinied  with  no  view  whatever  except  to  continue 
the  National  Regeneration  with  their  own  heads  on  their 
shoulders.  And  yet  so  it  verily  was.  The  insignificant  stone 
they  had  struck  out,  so  insignificant  anywhere  else,  proved  to 
be  the  Keystone ;  the  whole  arch-work  and  edifice  of  Sanscu- 
lottism  began  to  loosen,  to  crack,  to  yawn ;  and  tumbled  piece¬ 
meal,  with  considerable  rapidity,  plunge  after  plunge ;  till  the 
Abyss  had  swallowed  it  all,  and  in  this  upper  world  Sanscu- 
lottism  was  no  more. 

For  despicable  as  Robespierre  himself  might  be,  the  death 
of  Robespierre  was  a  signal  at  which  great  multitudes  of  men, 
struck  dumb  with  terror  heretofore,  rose  out  of  their  hiding- 
places  ;  and,  as  it  were,  saw  one  another,  how  multitudinous 
they  were ;  and  began  speaking  and  complaining.  They  are 
countable  by  the  thousand  and  the  million ;  who  have  suffered 
cruel  wrong.  Ever  louder  rises  the  plaint  of  such  a  multitude ; 
into  a  universal  sound,  into  a  universal  continuous  peal,  of 
what  they  call  Public  Opinion.  Camille  had  demanded  a 
“ Committee  of  Mercy,”  and  could  not  get  it;  but  now  the 
whole  Nation  resolves  itself  into  a  Committee  of  Mercy:  the 


428  VENDEMIAIEE.  Book  XX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

Nation  has  tried  Sansculottism,  and  is  weary  of  it.  Force 
of  Public  Opinion !  What  King  or  Convention  can  withstand 
it  ?  You  in  vain  struggle  :  the  thing  that  is  rejected  as  “calum¬ 
nious  ”  to-day  must  pass  as  veracious  with  triumph  another 
day :  gods  and  men  have  declared  that  Sansculottism  cannot 
be.  Sansculottism,  on  that  Ninth  night  of  Thermidor  suici- 
dally  “  fractured  its  under-jaw ;  ”  and  lies  writhing,  never  to 
rise  more. 

Through  the  next  fifteen  months,  it  is  what  we  may  call  the 
death-agony  of  Sansculottism.  Sansculottism,  Anarchy  of  the 
Jean- Jacques  Evangel,  having  now  got  deep  enough,  is  to 
perish  in  a  new  singular  system  of  Culottism  and  Arrange¬ 
ment.  For  Arrangement  is  indispensable  to  man;  Arrange¬ 
ment,  were  it  grounded  only  on  that  old  primary  Evangel  of 
Force,  with  Sceptre  in  the  shape  of  Hammer  !  Be  there 
method,  be  there  order,  cry  all  men ;  were  it  that  of  the  Drill- 
sergeant  !  More  tolerable  is  the  drilled  Bayonet-rank,  than 
that  undrilled  Guillotine,  incalculable  as  the  wind.  —  How 
Sansculottism,  writhing  in  death-throes,  strove  some  twice,  or 
even  three  times,  to  get  on  its  feet  again ;  but  fell  always,  and 
was  flung  resupine  the  next  instant ;  and  finally  breathed  out 
the  life  of  it,  and  stirred  no  more :  this  we  are  now,  from  a 
due  distance,  with  due  brevity,  to  glance  at ;  and  then  —  0 
Reader !  —  Courage,  I  see  land  ! 

Two  of  the  first  acts  of  the  Convention,  very  natural  for  it 
after  this  Thermidor,  -are  to  be  specified  here :  the  first  is, 
renewal  of  the  Governing  Committees.  Both  Surete  Generate 
and  Salut  Public ,  thinned  by  the  Guillotine,  need  filling  up : 
we  naturally  fill  them  up  with  Talliens,  Frerons,  victorious 
Thermidorian  men.  Still  more  to  the  purpose,  we  appoint 
that  they  shall,  as  Law  directs,  not  in  name  only  but  in  deed, 
be  renewed  and  changed  from  period  to  period ;  a  fourth  part 
of  them  going  out  monthly.  The  Convention  will  no  more  lie 
under  bondage  of  Committees,  under  terror  of  death ;  but  be 
a  free  Convention ;  free  to  follow  its  own  judgment,  and  the 
Force  of  Public  Opinion.  Not  less  natural  is  it  to  enact  that 
Prisoners  and  Persons  under  Accusation  shall  have  right  to 


Chap.  I.  DECADENT.  429 

Fructidor]  Aug.-Sept. 

demand  some  “Writ  of  Accusation/’  and  see  clearly  what 
they  are  accused  of.  Very  natural  acts  :  the  harbingers  of 
hundreds  not  less  so. 

For  now  Fouquier’s  trade,  shackled  by  Writ  of  Accusa¬ 
tion,  and  legal  proof,  is  as  good  as  gone  ;  effectual  only 
against  Robespierre’s  Tail.  The  Prisons  give  up  their 
Suspect;  emit  them  faster  and  faster.  The  Committees  see 
themselves  besieged  with  Prisoners’  friends  ;  complain  that 
they  are  hindered  in  their  work  :  it  is  as  with  men  rush¬ 
ing  out  of  a  crowded  place;  and  obstructing  one  another. 
Turned  are  the  tables :  Prisoners  pouring  out  in  floods ; 
Jailers,  Moutons  and  the  Tail  of  Robespierre  going  now 
whither  they  were  wont  to  send  !  —  The  Hundred  and  Thirty- 
two  Nantese  Republicans,  whom  we  saw  marching  in  irons, 
have  arrived;  shrunk  to  Nine ty-f our,  the  fifth  man  of  them 
choked  by  the  road.  They  arrive  :  and  suddenly  find  them¬ 
selves  not  pleaders  for  life,  but  denouncers  to  death.  Their 
Trial  is  for  acquittal,  and  more.  As  the  voice  of  a  trum¬ 
pet,  their  testimony  sounds  far  and  wide,  mere  atrocities 
of  a  Reign  of  Terror.  For  a  space  of  nineteen  days ;  with 
all  solemnity  and  publicity.  Representative  Carrier,  Com¬ 
pany  of  Marat;  Noyadings,  Loire  Marriages,  things  done  in 
darkness,  come  forth  into  light :  clear  is  the  voice  of  these 
poor  resuscitated  Nantese  ;  and  Journals,  and  Speech,  and 
universal  Committee  of  Mercy  reverberate  it  loud  enough, 
into  all  ears  and  hearts.  Deputation  arrives  from  Arras  ; 
denouncing  the  atrocities  of  Representative  Lebon.  A  tamed 
Convention  loves  its  own  life  :  yet  what  help  ?  Representa¬ 
tive  Lebon,  Representative  Carrier  must  wend  towards  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal ;  struggle  and  delay  as  we  will,  the 
cry  of  a  Nation  pursues  them  louder  and  louder.  Them  also 
Tinville  must  abolish ;  —  if  indeed  Tinville  himself  be  not 
abolished. 

We  must  note,  moreover,  the  decrepit  condition  into 
which  a  once  omnipotent  Mother  Society  has  fallen.  Le¬ 
gendre  flung  her  keys  on  the  Convention  table,  that  Thermi- 
dor  night ;  her  President  was  guillotined  with  Robespierre. 
The  once  mighty  Mother  came,  some  time  after,  with  a  sub- 


430  VENDEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1794  [Year  2. 

dued  countenance,  begging  back  her  keys :  the  keys  were 
restored  her ;  but  the  strength  could  not  be  restored  her ; 
the  strength  had  departed  forever.  Alas,  one’s  day  is  done. 
Vain  that  the  Tribune  in  mid-air  sounds  as  of  old  :  to  the 
general  ear  it  has  become  a  horror,  and  even  a  weariness. 
By  and  by,  Affiliation  is  prohibited  :  the  mighty  Mother  sees 
herself  suddenly  childless ;  mourns  as  so  hoarse  a  Bachel . 
may. 

The  Revolutionary  Committees,  without  Suspects  to  prey 
upon,  perish  fast ;  as  it  were,  of  famine.  In  Paris  the  old 
Forty-eight  of  them  are  reduced  to  Twelve  ;  their  Forty  Sous 
are  abolished :  yet  a  little  while,  and  Revolutionary  Com¬ 
mittees  are  no  more.  Maximum  will  be  abolished ;  let  Sans- 
culottism  find  food  where  it  can.1  Neither  is  there  now  any 
Municipality ;  any  centre  at  the  Town-hall.  Mayor  Fleuriot 
and  Company  perished ;  whom  we  shall  not  be  in  haste  to 
replace.  The  Town-hall  remains  in  a  broken  submissive 
state ;  knows  not  well  what  it  is  growing  to ;  knows  only 
that  it  is  grown  weak,  and  must  obey.  What  if  we  should 
split  Paris  into,  say,  a  Dozen  separate  Municipalities ;  in¬ 
capable  of  concert !  The  Sections  were  thus  rendered  safe 
to  act  with  :  —  or  indeed  might  not  the  Sections  themselves 
be  abolished  ?  You  had  then  merely  your  Twelve  manage¬ 
able  pacific  Townships,  without  centre  or  subdivision : 2  and 
sacred  right  of  Insurrection  fell  into  abeyance  ! 

So  much  is  getting  abolished ;  fleeting  swiftly  into  the 
Inane.  For  the  Press  speaks,  and  the  human  tongue ; 
Journals,  heavy  and  light,  in  Philippic  and  Burlesque :  a 
renegade  Freron,  a  renegade  Prudhomme,  loud  they  as  ever, 
only  the  contrary  way.  And  Ci-devants  show  themselves, 
almost  parade  themselves ;  resuscitated  as  from  death-sleep ; 
publish  what  death-pains  they  have  had.  The  very  Frogs 
of  the  Marsh  croak  with  emphasis.  Your  protesting  Seventy- 
three  shall,  with  a  struggle,  be  emitted  out  of  Prison,  back 
to  their  seats ;  your  Louvets,  Isnards,  Lanjuinais,  and  wrecks 
of  Girondism,  recalled  from  their  haylofts,  and  eaves  in 

1  24th  December,  1794  (Moniteur,  No.  97). 

2  October,  1795  (Dulaure,  viii.  454-456). 


Chap.  IF.  LA  CABARUS.  431 

Year  2]  1794. 

Switzerland,  will  resume  their  place  in  the  Convention  : 1  natu¬ 
ral  foes  of  Terror  ! 

Thermidorian  Talliens,  and  mere  foes  of  Terror,  rule  in 
this  Convention,  and  out  of  it.  The  compressed  Mountain 
shrinks  silent  more  and  more.  Moderatism  rises  louder  and 
louder :  not  as  a  tempest,  with  threatenings  ;  say  rather,  as 
the  rushing  of  a  mighty  organ-blast,  and  melodious  deafening 
Force  of  Public  Opinion  from  the  Twenty-live  Million  wind¬ 
pipes  of  a  Nation  all  in  Committee  of  Mercy  :  which  how  shall 
any  detached  body  of  individuals  withstand  ? 

- * - 

CHAPTER  II. 

LA  CABARUS. 

How,  above  all,  shall  a  poor  National  Convention  withstand 
it  ?  In  this  poor  National  Convention,  broken,  bewildered 
by  long  terror,  perturbations  and  guillotinement,  there  is  no 
Pilot,  there  is  not  now  even  a  Danton,  who  could  under¬ 
take  to  steer  you  any-whither,  in  such  press  of  weather.  The 
utmost  a  bewildered  Convention  can  do,  is  to  veer,  and  trim, 
and  try  to  keep  itself  steady ;  and  rush,  undrowned,  before 
the  wind.  Needless  to  struggle;  to  fling  helm  a-lee,  and 
make  ’ bout  ship  !  A  bewildered  Convention  sails  not  in  the 
teeth  of  the  wind ;  but  is  rapidly  blown  round  again.  So 
strong  is  the  wind,  we  say ;  and  so  changed ;  blowing  fresher 
and  fresher,  as  from  the  sweet  Southwest ;  your  devastating 
Northeasters,  and  wild  Tornado-gusts  of  Terror,  blown  utterly 
out !  All  Sansculottic  things  are  passing  away ;  all  things 
are  becoming  Culottic. 

Do  but  look  at  the  cut  of  clothes ;  that  light  visible 
Result,  significant  of  a  thousand  things  which  are  not  so 
visible.  In  winter  1793,  men  went  in  red  nightcap ;  Muni¬ 
cipals  themselves  in  sabots ;  the  very  Citoyennes  had  to  peti¬ 
tion  against  such  head-gear.  But  now  in  this  winter  1794, 

1  Deux  Amis,  xiii.  3-39. 


432  VENDEMIAIKE.  Book  XX. 

1794-95  [Year  2-ii. 

where  is  the  red  nightcap  ?  With  the  things  beyond  the 
Flood.  Your  moneyed  Citoyen  ponders  in  what  most  elegant 
style  he  shall  dress  himself ;  whether  he  shall  not  even 
dress  himself  as  the  Free  Peoples  of  Antiquity.  The  more 
adventurous  Citoyenne  has  already  done  it.  Behold  her, 
that  beautiful  adventurous  Citoyenne :  in  costume  of  the 
Ancient  Greeks,  such  Greek  as  Painter  David  could  teach  ; 
her  sweeping  tresses  snooded  by  glittering  antique  fillet ; 
bright-dyed  tunic  of  the  Greek  women  ;  her  little  feet  naked, 
as  in  Antique  Statues,  with  mere  sandals,  and  winding-strings 
of  ribbon,  —  defying  the  frost ! 

There  is  such  an  effervescence  of  Luxury.  For  your  Emi¬ 
grant  Ci-devants  carried  not  their  mansions  and  furnitures  out 
of  the  country  with  them ;  but  left  them  standing  here  :  and  in 
the  swift  changes  of  property,  what  with  money  coined  on  the 
Place  de  ia  Revolution,  what  with  Army-furnishings,  sales  of 
Emigrant  Domains  and  Church  Lands  and  King’s  Lands,  and 
then  with  the  Aladdin’s-lamp  of  Agio  in  a  time  of  Paper-money, 
such  mansions  have  found  new  occupants.  Old  wine,  drawn 
from  Ci-devant  bottles,  descends  new  throats.  Paris  has  swept 
herself,  relighted  herself ;  Salons,  Soupers  not  Fraternal,  beam 
once  more  with  suitable  effulgence,  very  singular  in  color. 
The  fair  Cabarus  is  come  out  of  Prison;  wedded  to  her  red- 
gloomy  Dis,  whom  they  say  she  treats  too  loftily :  fair  Caba¬ 
rus  gives  the  most  brilliant  soirees.  Round  her  is  gathered  a 
new  Republican  Army,  of  Citoyennes  in  sandals ;  Ci-devants 
or  other :  what  remnants  soever  of  the  old  grace  survive  are 
rallied  there.  At  her  right-hand,  in  this  cause,  labors  fair 
Josephine  the  Widow  Beauharnais,  though  in  straitened  cir¬ 
cumstances  :  intent,  both  of  them,  to  blandish  down  the  grim¬ 
ness  of  Republican  austerity,  and  recivilize  mankind. 

Recivilize,  even  as  of  old  they  were  civilized :  by  witchery 
of  the  Orphic  fiddle-bow,  and  Euterpean  rhythm ;  by  the 
Graces,  by  the  Smiles !  Therm idorian  Deputies  are  there  in 
those  soirees  :  Editor  Freron,  Orateur  du  Peuple  ;  Barras,  who 
has  known  other  dances  than  the  Carmagnole.  Grim  Generals 
of  the  Republic  are  there ;  in  enormous  horse-collar  neckcloth, 
good  against  sabre-cuts ;  the  hair  gathered  all  into  one  knot, 


Chap.  II.  LA  CABARUS.  433 

Year  2-3 J  1794-95. 

“  flowing  down  behind,  fixed  with  a  comb.”  Among  which 
latter  do  we  not  recognize,  once  more,  that  little  bronze- 
complexioned  Artillery- Officer  of  Toulon,  home  from  the 
Italian  Wars !  Grim  enough ;  of  lean,  almost  cruel  aspect : 
for  he  has  been  in  trouble,  in  ill  health ;  also  in  ill  favor,  as 
a  man  promoted,  deservingly  or  not,  by  the  Terrorists  and 
Robespierre  Junior.  But  does  not  Barras  know  him  ?  Will 
not  Barras  speak  a  word  for  him  ?  Yes,  —  if  at  any  time  it 
will  serve  Barras  so  to  do.  Somewhat  forlorn  of  fortune,  for 
the  present,  stands  that  Artillery-Officer;  looks,  with  those 
deep  earnest  eyes  of  his,  into  a  future  as  waste  as  the  most. 
Taciturn ;  yet  with  the  strangest  utterances  in  him,  if  you 
awaken  him,  which  smite  home,  like  light  or  lightning ;  —  on 
the  whole,  rather  dangerous .?  A  “  dissocial  ”  man  ?  Dissocial 
enough ;  a  natural  terror  and  horror  to  all  Phantasms,  being 
himself  of  the  genus  Reality  !  He  stands  here,  without  work 
or  outlook,  in  this  forsaken  manner ;  —  glances  nevertheless, 
it  would  seem,  at  the  kind  glance  of  J osephine  Beauharnais ; 
and,  for  the  rest,  with  severe  countenance,  with  open  eyes, 
and  closed  lips,  waits  what  will  betide. 

That  the  Balls,  therefore,  have  a  new  figure  this  winter,  we 
can  see.  Hot  Carmagnoles,  rude  “whirl-blasts  of  rags,”  as 
Mercier  called  them,  “  precursors  of  storm  and  destruction  :  ” 
no,  soft  Ionic  motions ;  fit  for  the  light  sandal  and  antique 
Grecian  tunic !  Efflorescence  of  Luxury  has  come  out :  for 
men  have  wealth ;  nay  new-got  wealth ;  and  under  the  Terror 
you  durst  not  dance,  except  in  rags.  Among  the  innumerable 
kinds  of  Balls,  let  the  hasty  reader  mark  only  this  single  one : 
the  kind  they  call  Victim  Balls,  Bats  a  Victime.  The  dancers, 
in  choice  costume,  have  all  crape  round  the  left  arm  :  to  be 
admitted,  it  needs  that  you  be  a  Victime;  that  you  have  lost 
a  relative  under  the  Terror.  Peace  to  the  Dead ;  let  us  dance 
to  their  memory  !  Eor  in  all  ways  one  must  dance. 

It  is  very  remarkable,  according  to  Mercier,  under  what 
varieties  of  figure  this  great  business  of  dancing  goes on. 
“  The  women,”  says  he,  “  are  Hymphs,  Sultanas  ;  sometimes 
Minervas,  Junos,  even  Dianas.  In  lightly  unerring  gyrations 

28 


VO  I,.  iV. 


434  VENDEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1794-95  [Year  2-3. 

they  swim  there  ;  with  such  earnestness  of  purpose  ;  with  per¬ 
fect  silence,  so  absorbed  are  they.  What  is  singular,”  con¬ 
tinues  he,  “the  on-lookers  are  as  it  were  mingled  with  the 
dancers ;  form,  as  it  were,  a  circumambient  element  round  the 
different  contre-dances,  yet  without  deranging  them.  It  is 
rare,  in  fact,  that  a  Sultana  in  such  circumstances  experiences 
the  smallest  collision.  Her  pretty  foot  darts  down,  an  inch 
from  mine  ;  she  is  off  again  ;  she  is  as  a  flash  of  light :  but  soon 
the  measure  recalls  her  to  the  point  she  set  out  from.  Like  a 
glittering  comet  she  travels  her  ellipse  j  revolving  on  herself, 
as  by  a  double  effect  of  gravitation  and  attraction.”  1  Looking 
forward  a  little  way,  into  Time,  the  same  Mercier  discerns 
Merveilleuses  in  “  flesh-colored  drawers  ”  with  gold  circlets ; 
mere  dancing  Houris  of  an  artificial  Mahomet’s-Paradise : 
much  too  Mahometan.  Montgaillard,  with  his  splenetic  eye, 
notes  a  no  less  strange  thing  ;  that  every  fashionable  Citoyenne 
you  meet  is  in  an  interesting  situation.  Good  Heavens,  every  ? 
Mere  pillows  and'  stuffing  !  adds  the  acrid  man ;  —  such  in  a 
time  of  depopulation  by  war  and  guillotine,  being  the  fashion.2 
No  farther  seek  its  merits  to  disclose. 

Behold  also,  instead  of  the  old  grim  Tappe-durs  of  Robes¬ 
pierre,  what  new  street-groups  are  these  ?  Young  men  habited 
not  in  black-shag  Carmagnole  spencer,  but  in  superfine  habit 
carve,  or  spencer  with  rectangular  tail  appended  to  it ;  “  square¬ 
tailed  coat,”  with  elegant  anti-guillotinish  specialty  of  collar ; 
“the  hair  plaited  at  the  temples,”  and  knotted  back,  long- 
flowing,  in  military  wise:  young  men  of  what  they  call  the 
Muscadin  or  Dandy  species  !  Freron,  in  his  fondness,  names 
them  Jeunesse  Doree,  Golden  or  Gilt  Youth.  They  have  come 
out,  these  Gilt  Youths,  in  a  kind  of  resuscitated  state ;  they 
wear  crape  round  the  left  arm,  such  of  them  as  were  Victims. 
More,  they  carry  clubs  loaded  with  lead ;  in  an  angry  ma»ner : 
any  Tappe-dur ,  or  remnant  of  Jacobinism  they  may  fall  in  with, 
shall  fare  the  worse.  They  have  suffered  much :  their  friends 
guillotined ;  their  pleasures,  frolics,  superfine  collars  ruthlessly 
repressed  :  ’ware  now  the  base  Red  Nightcaps  who  did  it ! 

1  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  138,  153. 

3  Montgaillard,  iv.  436-442. 


QUIBERON. 


435 


Chap.  III. 

Year  2-3]  1794-95. 


Fair  Cabarus  and  the  Army  of  Greek  sandals  smile  approval. 
In  the  Theatre  Feydeau,  young  Valor  in  square-tailed  coat  eyes 
Beauty  in  Greek  sandals,  and  kindles  by  her  glances :  Down 
with  Jacobinism!  No  Jacobin  hymn  or  demonstration,  only 
Thermidorian  ones,  shall  be  permitted  here :  we  beat  down 
Jacobinism  with  clubs  loaded  with  lead. 

But  let  any  one  who  has  examined  the  Dandy  nature,  how 
petulant  it  is,  especially  in  the  gregarious  state,  think  what  an 
element,  in  sacred  right  of  insurrection,  this  Gilt  Youth  was ! 
Broils  and  battery ;  war  without  truce  or  measure !  Hateful 
is  Sansculottism,  as  Death  and  Night.  For  indeed  is  not 
the  Dandy  culottib,  habilatory,  by  law  of  existence ;  “  a  cloth 
animal';  one  that  lives,  moves  and  has  his  being  in  cloth”  ? 


So  goes  it,  waltzing,  bickering :  fair  Cabarus,  by  Orphic 
witchery,  struggling  to  recivilize  mankind.  Not  unsuccess¬ 
fully,  we  hear.  What  utmost  Republican  grimness  can  resist 
Greek  sandals,  in  Ionic  motion,  the  very  toes  covered  with  gold 
rings  ?  1  By  degrees  the  indisputablest  new-politeness  rises  ; 
grows,  with  vigor.  And  yet,  whether,  even  to  this  day,  that 
inexpressible  tone  of  society  known  under  the  old  Kings,  when 
Sin  had  “  lost  all  its  deformity  ”  (with  or  without  advantage  to 
us),  and  airy  Nothing  had  obtained  such  a  local  habitation  and 
establishment  as  she  never  had,  —  be  recovered  ?  Or  even, 
whether  it  be  not  lost  beyond  recovery  ? 2  —  Either  way,  the 
world  must  contrive  to  struggle  on. 


CHAPTER  III. 

QUIBERON. 

But,  indeed,  do  not  these  long-flowing  hair-queues  of  a 
Jeunesse  Doree  in  semi-military  costume  betoken,  uncon¬ 
sciously,  another  still  more  important  tendency  ?  The  Re¬ 
public,  abhorrent  of  her  Guillotine,  loves  her  Army. 

1  Montgaillard,  Merrier  (ubi  supra). 

2  De  Stael,  Considerations ,  iii.  c.  10,  &c. 


436 


YEN  DEMI  AIRE.  Book  XX. 

1794-95  [Year  2-3. 

And  with  cause.  For,  surely,  if  good  fighting  be  a  kind  of 
honor,  as  it  is  in  its  season ;  and  be  with  the  vulgar  of  men, 
even  the  chief  kind  of  honor ;  then  here  is  good  fighting,  in 
good  season,  if  there  ever  was.  These  Sons  of  the  Republic, 
they  rose,  in  mad  wrath,  to  deliver  her  from  Slavery  and 
Cimmeria.  And  have  they  not  done  it  ?  Through  Maritime 
Alps,  through  gorges  of  Pyrenees,  through  Low  Countries, 
Northward  along  the  Rhine-valley,  far  is  Cimmeria  hurled 
back  from  the  sacred  Motherland.  Fierce  as  fire,  they  have 
carried  her  Tricolor  over  the  faces  of  all  her  enemies  ;  —  over 
scarped  heights,  over  cannon-batteries,  it  has  flown  victorious, 
winged  with  rage.  She  has  “  Eleven  hundred  thousand  fight¬ 
ers  on  foot,”  this  Republic  :  “  at  one  particular  moment  she 
had,”  or  supposed  she  had,  “  Seventeen  hundred  thousand.”  1 
Like  a  ring  of  lightning,  they,  volleying  and  ga-ira- ing,  begir- 
dle  her  from  shore  to  shore.  Cimmerian  Coalition  of  Despots 
recoils,  smitten  with  astonishment  and  strange  pangs. 

Such  a  fire  is  in  these  G-aelic  Republican  men ;  high-blazing ; 
which  no  Coalition  can  withstand!  Not  scutcheons,  with  four 
degrees  of  nobility  ;  but  ci-devant  Sergeants,  who  have  had  to 
clutch  Generalship  out  of  the  cannon’s  throat,  a  Pichegru,  a 
Jourdan,  a  Hoche  lead  them  on.  They  have  bread,  they  have 
iron  ;  “  with  bread  and  iron  you  can  get  to  China.”  —  See 
Pichegru’s  soldiers,  this  hard  winter,  in  their  looped  and  win¬ 
dowed  destitution,  in  their  “  straw-rope  shoes  and  cloaks  of 
bast-mat,”  how  they  overrun  Holland,  like  a  demon-host,  the 
ice  having  bridged  all  waters  j  and  rush  shouting  from  victory 
to  victory  !  Ships  in  the  Texel  are  taken  by  hussars  on  horse¬ 
back  :  fled  is  York  ;  fled  is  the  Stadtholder,  glad  to  escape  to 
England,  and  leave  Holland  to  fraternize.2  Such  a  Gaelic 
fire,  we  say,  blazes  in  this  People,  like  the  conflagration  of 
grass  and  dry -jungle  ;  which  no  mortal  can  withstand,  —  for 
the  moment. 

And  even  so  it  will  blaze  and  run,  scorching  all  things ;  and, 
from  Cadiz  to  Archangel,  mad  Sansculottism,  drilled  now  into 
Soldiership,  led  on  by  some  "  armed  Soldier  of  Democracy  ” 

1  Toulongeon,  iiit  c.  7  ;  v.  c.  10  (p.  194). 

2  19th  January,  1795  (Montgaillard,  iv.  287-311). 


Chap.  III.  QUIBERON.  437 

Year  2-3]  1794-95. 

(say,  that  monosyllabic  Artillery-Officer),  will  set  its  foot  cru¬ 
elly  on  the  necks  of  its  enemies  ;  and  its  shouting  and  their 
shrieking  shall  till  the  world !  —  Rash  Coalized  Kings,  such 
a  lire  have  ye  kindled ;  yourselves  tireless,  your  fighters  ani¬ 
mated  only  by  drill-sergeants,  mess-room  moralities  and  the 
drummer’s  cat !  However,  it  is  begun,  and  will  not  end : 
not  for  a  matter  of  twenty  years.  So  long,  this  Gaelic  fire, 
through  its  successive  changes  of  color  and  character,  will 
blaze  over  the  face  of  Europe,  and  afflict  and  scorch  all  men :  — 
till  it  provoke  all  men ;  till  it  kindle  another  kind  of  fire,  the 
Teutonic  kind,  namely;  and  be  swallowed  up,  so  to  speakr 
in  a  day !  For  there  is  a  fire  comparable  to  the  burning  of 
dry-jungle  and  grass  ;  most  sudden,  high-blazing  :  and  another 
fire  which  we  liken  to  the  burning  of  coal,  or  even  of  anthra¬ 
cite  coal ;  difficult  to  kindle,  but  then  which  no  known  thing 
will  put  out.  The  ready  Gaelic  fire,  we  can  remark  farther,  — - 
and  remark  not  in  Pichegrus  only,  but  in  innumerable  Yoh 
taires,  Racines,  Laplaces,  no  less ;  for  a  man,  whether  he  fight, 
or  sing,  or  think,  will  remain  the  same  unity  of  a  man,  —  is 
admirable  for  roasting  eggs,  in  every  conceivable  sense.  The 
Teutonic  anthracite  again,  as  we  see  in  Luthers,  Leibnitzes, 
Shakspeares,  is  preferable  for  smelting  metals.  How  happy 
is  our  Europe  that  has  both  kinds  !  — 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  the  Republic  is  clearly  triumphing. 
In  the  spring  of  the  year,  Mentz  Town  again  sees  itself  be¬ 
sieged  ;  will  again  change  master :  did  not  Merlin  the  Thion- 
viller,  “  with  wild  beard  and  look,”  say  it  was  not  for  the  last 
time  they  saw  him  there  ?  The  Elector  of  Mentz  circulates 
among  his  brother  Potentates  this  pertinent  query,  Were  it 
not  advisable  to  treat  of  Peace  ?  Yes !  answers  many  an 
Elector  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
Austria  hesitates ;  finally  refuses,  being  subsidied  by  Pitt.  As 
to  Pitt,  whoever  hesitate,  he,  suspending  his  Habeas-corpus, 
suspending  his  Cash-payments,  stands  inflexible,  —  spite  of 
foreign  reverses  ;  spite  of  domestic  obstacles,  of  Scotch  Ra¬ 
tional  Conventions  and  English  Friends  of  the  People,  whom 
he  is  obliged  to  arraign,  to  hang,  or  even  to  see  acquitted  with 
jubilee  :  a  lean  inflexible  man.  The  Majesty  of  Spain,  as  we 


438  VENDEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1794-95  [Tear  2-3. 

predicted,  makes  Peace ;  also  the  Majesty  of  Prussia :  and 
there  is  a  Treaty  of  Bale.1  Treaty  with  black  Anarchists  and 
Regicides  !  Alas,  what  help  ?  You  cannot  hang  this  Anarchy ; 
it  is  like  to  hang  you :  you  must  needs  treat  with  it. 

Likewise,  General  Hoche  has  even  succeeded  in  pacificating 
La  Vendee.  Rogue  Rossignol  and  his  “  Infernal  Columns  ” 
have  vanished :  by  firmness  and  justice,  by  sagacity  and  in¬ 
dustry,  General  Hoche  has  done  it.  Taking  “  Movable  Col¬ 
umns/’  not  infernal ;  girdling  in  the  Country :  pardoning  the 
submissive,  cutting  down  the  resistive,  limb  after  limb  of  the 
Revolt  is  brought  under.  La  Roche jacquelin,  last  of  our  No¬ 
bles,  fell  in  battle  ;  Stofflet  himself  makes  terms ;  Georges- 
Cadoudal  is  back  to  Brittany,  among  his  Chouans  :  the  frightful 
gangrene  of  La  Vendee  seems  veritably  extirpated.  It  has 
cost,  as  they  reckon  in  round  numbers,  the  lives  of  a  hundred 
thousand  fellow-mortals  ;  with  noyadings,  conflagratings  by 
infernal  column,  which  defy  arithmetic.  This  is  the  La  Vendee 
War.2 

Nay  in  few  months,  it  does  burst  up  once  more,  but  once 
only ;  —  blown  upon  by  Pitt,  by  our  Ci-devant  Puisaye  of 
Calvados,  and  others.  In  the  month  of  July,  1795,  English 
Ships  will  ride  in  Quiberon  roads.  There  will  be  debarkation 
of  chivalrous  Ci-devants,  of  volunteer  Prisoners-of-war  —  eager 
to  desert ;  of  fire-arms,  Proclamations,  clothes-chests,  Royalists 
and  specie.  Whereupon  also,  on  the  Republican  side,  there 
will  be  rapid  stand-to-arms ;  with  ambuscade  marchings  by 
Quiberon  beach,  at  midnight ;  storming  of  Fort  Penthievre  ; 
war-thunder  mingling  with  the  roar  of  the  nightly  main ;  and 
such  a  morning  light  as  has  seldom  dawned:  debarkation 
hurled  back  into  its  boats,  or  into  the  devouring  billows,  with 
wreck  and  wail ;  —  in  one  word,  a  Ci-devant  Puisaye  as  totally 
ineffectual  here  as  he  was  in  Calvados,  when  he  rode  from 
Vernon  Castle  without  boots.3 

Again,  therefore,  it  has  cost  the  lives  of  many  a  brave  man. 

1  5th  April,  1795  ( Montgaillard,  iv.  319). 

2  Hisioire  de  la  Guerre  de  la  Vendee,  par  M.  le  Comte  de  Yauban.  Me'moires 
de  Madame  de  la  Rochejacquelin,  &c. 

3  Deux  Amin,  xiv.  94-106;  Puisaye,  Me’moires,  iii.-vii. 


Chap.  IV.  LION  NOT  DEAD.  439 

Year  2-3]  1794-95. 

Among  whom  the  whole  world  laments  the  brave  Son  of  Som- 
breuil.  Ill-fated  family !  The  father  and  younger  son  went 
to  the  guillotine  ;  the  heroic  daughter  languishes,  reduced  to 
want,  hides  her  woes  from  History :  the  elder  son  perishes 
here ;  shot  by  military  tribunal  as  an  Emigrant ;  Hoche  him¬ 
self  cannot  save  him.  If  all  wars,  civil  and  other,  are  misun¬ 
derstandings,  what  a  thing  must  right-understanding  be  ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LION  NOT  DEAD. 

The  Convention,  borne  on  the  tide  of  Eortune  towards 
foreign  Victory,  and  driven  by  the  strong  wind  of  Public 
Opinion  towards  Clemency  and  Luxury,  is  rushing  fast;  all 
skill  of  pilotage  is  needed,  and  more  than  all,  in  such  a 
velocity. 

Curious  to  see,  how  we  veer  and  whirl,  yet  must  ever  whirl 
round  again,  and  scud  before  the  wind.  If,  on  the  one  hand, 
we  re-admit  the  Protesting  Seventy-three,  we,  on  the  other 
hand,  agree  to  consummate  the  Apotheosis  of  Marat ;  lift  his 
body  from  the  Cordeliers  Church,  and  transport  it  to  the 
Pantheon  of  Great  Men,  —  flinging  out  Mirabeau  to  make 
room  for  him.  To  no  purpose  :  so  strong  blows  Public  Opin¬ 
ion  !  A  Gilt  Youthhood,  in  plaited  hair-tresses,  tears  down 
his  Busts  from  the  Theatre  Feydeau;  tramples  them  under 
foot ;  scatters  them,  with  vociferation,  into  the  Cesspool  of 
Montmartre.1  Swept  is  his  Chapel  from  the  Place  du  Car¬ 
rousel  ;  the  Cesspool  of  Montmartre  will  receive  his  very  dust. 
Shorter  godhood  had  no  divine  man.  Some  four  months  in 
this  Pantheon,  Temple  of  All  the  Immortals ;  then  to  the 
Cesspool,  grand  Cloaca  of  Paris  and  the  World!  “His  Busts 
at  one  time  amounted  to  four  thousand.”  Between  Temple  of 
All  the  Immortals  and  Cloaca  of  the  World,  how  are  poor 
human  creatures  whirled ! 

1  Moniteur ,  du  25  Septembre,  1794,  du  4  Fevrier,  1795. 


440  VENDEMTAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  3. 

Furthermore  the  question  arises,  When  will  the  Constitu¬ 
tion  of  Ninety-three ,  of  1793,  come  into  action  ?  Considerate 
heads  surmise,  in  all  privacy,  that  the  Constitution  of  Ninety- 
three  will  never  come  into  action.  Let  them  busy  themselves 
to  get  ready  a  better. 

Or,  again,  where  now  are  the  J acobins  ?  Childless,  most 
decrepit,  as  we  saw,  sat  the  mighty  Mother;  gnashing  not 
teeth,  but  empty  gums,  against  a  traitorous  Thermidorian 
Convention  and  the  current  of  things.  Twice  were  Billaud, 
Collot  and  Company  accused  in  Convention,  by  a  Lecointre, 
by  a  Legendre  ;  and  the  second  time,  it  was  not  voted  calum¬ 
nious.  Billaud  from  the  Jacobin  tribune  says,  “The  lion  is 
not  dead ;  he  is  only  sleeping.”  They  ask  him  in  Convention, 
What  he  means  by  the  awakening  of  the  lion  ?  And  bicker¬ 
ings,  of  an  extensive  sort,  arose  in  the  Palais-Egalite  between 
Tappe-durs  and  the  Gilt  Youthhood;  cries  of  “Down  with  the 
Jacobins,  the  Jacoquins,”  coquin  meaning  scoundrel !  The 
Tribune  in  mid-air  gave  battle-sound ;  answered  only  by  si¬ 
lence  and  uncertain  gasps.  Talk  was,  in  Government  Com¬ 
mittees,  of  “suspending”  the  Jacobin  Sessions.  Hark,  there  ! 
—  it  is  in  Allhallow-time,  or  on  the  Hallow-eve  itself,  month 
ci-devant  November,  year  once  named  of  Grace  1794,  sad  eve 
for  Jacobinism, — volley  of  stones  dashing  through  our  win¬ 
dows,  with  jingle  and  execration !  The  female  Jacobins, 
famed  Tricoteuses  with  knitting-needles,  take  flight ;  are  met 
at  the  doors  by  a  Gilt  Youthhood  and  “mob  of  four  thousand 
persons ;  ”  are  hooted,  flouted,  hustled  ;  fustigated  in  a  scan¬ 
dalous  manner,  cotillons  retrousses ;  —  and  vanish  in  mere 
hysterics.  Sally  out,  ye  male  Jacobins  !  The  male  Jacobins 
sally  out ;  but  only  to  battle,  disaster  and  confusion.  So  that 
armed  Authority  has  to  intervene :  and  again  on  the  morrow 
to  intervene ;  and  suspend  the  Jacobin  Sessions  forever  and  a 
day.1  —  Gone  are  the  Jacobins  ;  into  invisibility  ;  in  a  storm 
of  laughter  and  howls.  Their  Place  is  made  a  Normal  School, 
the  first  of  the  kind  seen ;  it  then  vanishes  into  a  “  Market  of 
Thermidor  Ninth  ;  ”  into  a  Market  of  Saint-Honore,  where  is 
now  peaceable  chaffering  for  poultry  and  greens.  The  solemn 

1  Moniteur,  Seances  du  10-12  Novembre,  1794  ;  Deux  Amis,  xiii.  43-49. 


441 


Chap.  IV.  LION  NOT  DEAD. 

Germ.  12]  April  1. 

temples,  the  great  globe  itself ;  the  baseless  fabric !  Are 
not  we  such  stuff,  we  and  this  world  of  ours,  as  Dreams  are 
made  of  ? 

Maximum  being  abrogated,  Trade  was  to  take  its  own  free 
course.  Alas,  Trade,  shackled,  topsy-turvied  in  the  way  we 
saw,  and  now  suddenly  let  go  again,  can  for  the  present  take 
no  course  at  all ;  but  only  reel  and  stagger.  There  is,  so  to 
speak,  no  Trade  whatever  for  the  time  being.  Assignats,  long 
sinking,  emitted  in  such  quantities,  sink  now  with  an  alacrity 
beyond  parallel.  “  Combien  ?  ”  said  one,  to  a  Hackney-coach¬ 
man,  “  What  fare  ?  ”  “  Six  thousand  livres,”  answered  he  : 

some  three  hundred  pounds  sterling,  in  Paper-money.1  Pres¬ 
sure  of  Maximum  withdrawn,  the  things  it  compressed  likewise 
withdraw.  “  Two  ounces  of  bread  per  day  ”  is  the  modi¬ 
cum  allotted :  wide-waving,  doleful  are  the  Bakers’  Queues ; 
Farmers’  houses  are  become  pawnbrokers’  shops. 

One  can  imagine,  in  these  circumstances,  with  what  humor 
Sansculottism  growled  in  its  throat  “  La  Cabarus ;  ”  beheld 
Ci-devants  return  dancing,  the  Thermidor  effulgence  of  recivili¬ 
zation,  and  Balls  in  flesh-colored  drawers.  Greek  tunics  and 
sandals ;  hosts  of  Muscadms  parading,  with  their  clubs  loaded 
with  lead;  —  and  we  here,  cast  out,  abhorred,  “picking  offals 
from  the  street ;  ” 2  agitating  in  Baker’s  Queue  for  our  two 
ounces  of  bread !  Will  the  Jacobin  lion,  which  they  say  is 
meeting  secretly  “  at  the  Archeveche,  in  bonnet  rouge  with 
loaded  pistols,”  not  awaken  ?  Seemingly,  not.  Our  Collot, 
our  Billaud,  Barrere,  Vadier,  in  these  last  days  of  March,  1795, 
are  found  worthy  of  Deportation ,  of  Banishment  beyond  seas  ; 
and  shall,  for  the  present,  be  trundled  off  to  the  Castle  of 
Ham.  The  lion  is  dead ;  —  or  writhing  in  death- throes  ! 

Behold,  accordingly,  on  the  day  they  call  Twelfth  of 
Germinal  (which  is  also  called  First  of  April,  not  a  lucky 
day),  how  lively  are  these  streets  of  Paris  once  more  !  Floods 

1  Mercier,  ii.  94.  (“  1st  February,  1796  :  at  the  Bourse  of  Paris,  the  gold 

louis,”  of  20  francs  in  silver,  “  costs  5,300  francs  in  assignats.”  Montgaillard, 
iv.  419.) 

2  Fantin  Desodoards,  Ilistoire  cle  la  Revolution,  vii.  c.  4. 


442  VENDEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  23. 

of  hungry  women,  of  squalid  hungry  men  ;  ejaculating,  “  Bread, 
Bread,  and  the  Constitution  of  Ninety-three  !  ”  Paris  has 
risen,  once  again,  like  the  Ocean-tide ;  is  flowing  towards  the 
Tuileries,  for  Bread  and  a  Constitution.  Tuileries  Sentries 
do  their  best ;  but  it  serves  not :  the  Ocean-tide  sweeps  them 
away  ;  inundates  the  Convention  Hall  itself ;  howling,  “  Bread 
and  the  Constitution  !  ” 

Unhappy  Senators,  unhappy  People,  there  is  yet,  after  all 
toils  and  broils,  no  Bread,  no  Constitution.  (( Du  pain,  pas 
tant  de  longs  discours,  Bread,  not  bursts  of  Parliamentary  elo¬ 
quence  !  ”  so  wailed  the  Menads  of  Maillard,  five  years  ago 
and  more ;  so  wail  ye  to  this  hour.  The  Convention,  with 
unalterable  countenance,  with  what  thought  one  knows  not, 
keeps  its  seat  in  this  waste  howling  chaos  ;  rings  its  storm- 
bell  from  the  Pavilion  of  Unity.  Section  Lepelletier,  old 
Filles- Saint- Thomas,  who  are  of  the  money-changing  species  ; 
these  and  Gilt  Youthhood  fly  to  the  rescue  :  sweep  chaos  forth 
again,  with  levelled  bayonets.  Paris  is  declared  “  in  a  state  of 
siege.”  Pichegru,  Conqueror  of  Holland,  who  happens  to  be 
here,  is  named  Commandant,  till  the  disturbance  end.  He, 
in  one  day  so  to  speak,  ends  it.  He  accomplishes  the  transfer 
of  Billaud,  Collot  and  Company  ;  dissipating  all  opposition  “  by 
two  cannon-shots,”  blank  cannon-shots,  and  the  terror  of  his 
name  ;  and  thereupon,  announcing,  with  a  Laconicism  which 
should  be  imitated,  “  Representatives,  your  decrees  are  exe¬ 
cuted,”  1  lays  down  his  Commandantship. 

This  Bevolt  of  Germinal,  therefore,  has  passed,  like  a  vain 
cry.  The  Prisoners  rest  safe  in  Ham,  waiting  for  ships  ;  some 
nine  hundred  “ chief  Terrorists  of  Paris”  are  disarmed.  Sans- 
culottism,  swept  forth  with  bayonets,  has  vanished,  with  its 
misery,  to  the  bottom  of  Saint- Antoine  and  Saint-Marceau.  — 
Time  was  when  Usher  Maillard  with  Menads  could  alter  the 
course  of  Legislation  ;  but  that  time  is  not.  Legislation  seems 
to  have  got  bayonets  ;  Section  Lepelletier  takes  its  firelock, 
not  for  us  !  We  retire  to  our  dark  dens  ;  our  cry  of  hunger  is 
called  a  Plot  of  Pitt;  the  Saloons  glitter,  the  flesh-colored 
1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  13  Germinal  (2d  April),  1795. 


LION  SPRAWLING  ITS  LAST. 


443 


Chap.  V. 
Year  3]  1795. 


Drawers  gyrate  as  before.  It  was  for  “  The  Cabarus  then, 
and  her  Muscadins  and  Money-clangers  that  we  fought  ?  It 
was  for  Balls  in  flesh-colored  drawers  that  we  took  Feudalism 
by  the  beard,  and  did  and  dared,  shedding  our  blood  like 
water  ?  Expressive  Silence,  muse  thou  their  praise  !  — 


CHAPTER  V. 

LION  SPRAWLING  ITS  LAST. 

Representative  Carrier  went  to  the  Guillotine,  in  December 
last ;  protesting  that  he  acted  by  orders.  The  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  after  all  it  has  devoured,  has  now  only,  as  Anarchic 
things  do,  to  devour  itself.  In  the  early  days  of  May,  men 
see  a  remarkable  '  thing :  Fouquier-Tinville  pleading  at  the 
Bar  once  his  own.  He  and  his  chief  Jurymen,  Leroi  August- 
Tenth ,  Juryman  Vilate,  a  Batch  of  Sixteen ;  pleading  hard, 
protesting  that  they  acted  by  orders  :  but  pleading  in  vain. 
Thus  men  break  the  axe  with  which  they  have  done  hateful 
things  ;  the  axe  itself  having  grown  hateful.  For  the  rest, 
Fouquier  died  hard  enough :  “  Where  are  thy  Batches  ?  ” 
howled  the  people.  —  “  Hungry  canaille asked  Fouquier,  “  is 
thy  Bread  cheaper,  wanting  them  ?  ” 

Remarkable  Fouquier;  once  but  as  other  Attorneys  and 
Law-beagles,  which  hunt  ravenous  on  this  Earth,  a  well- 
known  phasis  of  human  nature ;  and  now  thou  art  and 
remainest  the  most  remarkable  Attorney  that  ever  lived  and 
hunted  in  the  Upper  Air  !  For,  in  this  terrestrial  Course  of 
Time,  there  was  to  be  an  Avatar  of  Attorneyism ;  the  Heavens 
had  said,  Let  there  be  an  Incarnation,  not  divine,  of  the 
venatory  Attorney-spirit  which  keeps  its  eye  on  the  bond 
only  ;  —  and  lo,  this  was  it ;  and  they  have  attorneyed  it  in 
its  turn.  Vanish,  then,  thou  rat-eyed  Incarnation  of  Attor¬ 
neyism  ;  who  at  bottom  wert  but  as  other  Attorneys,  and  too 
hungry  sons  of  Adam  !  Juryman  Vilate  had  striven  hard  for 
life,  and  published,  from  his  Prison,  an  ingenious  Book,  not 


444  VENDEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  3. 

unknown  to  us  ;  but  it  would  not  stead  :  lie  also  bad  to  vanish ; 
and  this  his  Book  of  the  Secret  Causes  of  Thermidor,  full  of 
lies,  with  particles  of  truth  in  it  undiscoverable  otherwise,  is 
all  that  remains  of  him. 

Revolutionary  Tribunal  has  done ;  but  vengeance  has  not 
done.  Representative  Lebon,  after  long  struggling,  is  handed 
over  to  the  ordinary  Law  Courts,  and  by  them  guillotined, 
1ST ay  at  Lyons  and  elsewhere,  resuscitated  Moderatism,  in  its 
vengeance,  will  not  wait  the  slow  process  of  Law ;  but  bursts 
into  the  Prisons,  sets  fire  to  the  Prisons  ;  burns  some  three¬ 
score  imprisoned  Jacobins  to  dire  death,  or  chokes  them 
“with  the  smoke  of  straw.”  There  go  vengeful  truculent 
“Companies  of  Jesus,”  “Companies  of  the  Sun;”  slaying 
Jacobinism  wherever  they  meet  with  it ;  flinging  it  into  the 
Rhone-stream ;  which  once  more  bears  seaward  a  horrid  cargo.1 
Whereupon,  at  Toulon,  Jacobinism  rises  in  revolt;  and  is  like 
to  hang  the  National  Representatives.  —  With  such  action  and 
reaction,  is  not  a  poor  National  Convention  hard  bested !  It 
is  like  the  settlement  of  winds  and  waters,  of  seas  long  tor¬ 
nado-beaten  ;  and  goes  on  with  jumble  and  with  jangle.  Now 
flung  aloft,  now  sunk  in  trough  of  the  sea,  your  Vessel  of  the 
Republic  has  need  of  all  pilotage  and  more. 

What  Parliament  that  ever  sat  under  the  Moon  had  such 
a  series  of  destinies  as  this  National  Convention  of  France  ? 
It  came  together  to  make  the  Constitution ;  and  instead  of 
that,  it  has  had  to  make  nothing  but  destruction  and  con¬ 
fusion  :  to  burn  up  Catholicisms,  Aristocratisms ;  to  worship 
Reason  and  dig  Saltpetre ;  to  fight  Titanically  with  itself  and 
with  the  whole  world.  A  Convention  decimated  by  the  Guil¬ 
lotine  ;  above  the  tenth  man  has  bowed  his  neck  to  the  axe. 
Which  has  seen  Carmagnoles  dance  before  it,  and  patriotic 
strophes  sung  amid  Church-spoils ;  the  wounded  of  the  Tenth 
of  August  defile  in  hand-barrows  ;  and,  in  the  Pandemonial 
Midnight,  Egalite’s  dames  in  tricolor  drink  lemonade,  and 
spectrum  of  Sieyes  mount,  saying,  Death  sans  phrase.  A 
Convention  which  has  effervesced,  and  which  has  congealed ; 
which  has  been  red  with  rage,  and  also  pale  with  rage ;  sitting 
1  Moniteur,  clu  27  Juin,  du  31  Aotit,  1795  ;  Deux  Amis,  xiii.  121-129. 


445 


Chap.  V  LION  SPRAWLING  ITS  LAST. 

Prair.  1]  May  20. 

with  pistols  in  its  pocket,  drawing  sword  (in  a  moment  of 
effervescence) :  now  storming  to  the  four  winds,  through  a 
Danton-voice,  Awake,  0  France,  and  smite  the  tyrants  ;  now 
frozen  mute  under  its  Robespierre,  and  answering  his  dirge- 
voice  by  a  dubious  gasp.  Assassinated,  decimated ;  stabbed  at, 
shot  at,  in  baths,  on  streets  and  staircases ;  which  has  been  the 
nucleus  of  Chaos.  Has  it  not  heard  the  chimes  at  midnight  2 
It  has  deliberated,  beset  by  a  hundred  thousand  armed  men 
with  artillery-furnaces  and  provision-carts.  It  has  been  be- 
tocsined,  bestormed ;  overflooded  by  black  deluges  of  Sanscu- 
lottism  ;  and  has  heard  the  shrill  cry,  Bread  and  Soap.  For, 
as  we  say,  it  was  the  nucleus  of  Chaos :  it  sat  as  the  centre 
of  Sansculottism  ;  and  had  spread  its  pavilion  on  the  waste 
Deep,  where  is  neither  path  nor  landmark,  neither  bottom 
nor  shore.  In  intrinsic  valor,  ingenuity,  fidelity,  and  general 
force  and  manhood,  it  has  perhaps  not  far  surpassed  the  aver¬ 
age  of  Parliaments ;  but  in  frankness  of  purpose,  in  singu¬ 
larity  of  position,  it  seeks  its  fellow.  One  other  Sansculottic 
submersion,  or  at  most  two,  and  this  wearied  vessel  of  a  Con¬ 
vention  reaches  land. 

Revolt  of  Germinal  Twelfth  ended  as  a  vain  cry ;  moribund 
Sansculottism  was  swept  back  into  invisibility.  There  it  has 
lain  moaning,  these  six  weeks  :  moaning,  and  also  scheming. 
Jacobins  disarmed,  flung  forth  from  their  Tribune  in  mid-air, 
must  needs  try  to  help  themselves,  in  secret  conclave  under 
ground.  Lo  therefore,  on  the  First  day  of  the  month  Prairial, 
20th  of  May,  1795,  sound  of  the  generate  once  more ;  beating 
sharp  ran-tan,  To  arms,  To  arms  ! 

Sansculottism  has  risen,  yet  again,  from  its  death-lair ; 
waste,  wild-flowing,  as  the  unfruitful  Sea.  Saint-Antoine  is 
afoot:  “Bread  and  the  Constitution  of  Ninety-three,”  so 
sounds  it;  so  stands  it  written  with  chalk  on  the  hats  of 
men.  They  have  their  pikes,  their  firelocks  ;  Paper  of  Griev¬ 
ances  ;  standards  ;  printed  Proclamation,  drawn  up  in  quite 
official  manner,  —  considering  this,  and  also  considering  tlia.t, 
they,  a  much-enduring  Sovereign  People,  are  in  Insurrection  ; 
will  have  Bread  and  the  Constitution  of  Ninety-three.  And 


446  VENDEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  3. 

so  the  Barriers  are  seized,  and  the  generate  beats,  and  tocsins 
discourse  discord.  Black  deluges  overflow  the  Tuileries ;  spite 
of  sentries,  the  Sanctuary  itself  is  invaded :  enter,  to  our 
Order  of  the  Day,  a  torrent  of  dishevelled  women,  wailing, 
“  Bread  !  Bread  !  ”  President  may  well  cover  himself  ;  and 
have  his  own  tocsin  rung  in  “  the  Pavilion  of  Unity ;  ”  the 
ship  of  the  State  again  labors  and  leaks  ;  overwashed,  near 
to  swamping,  with  unfruitful  brine. 

What  a  day,  once  more  !  Women  are  driven  out :  men 
storm  irresistibly  in  ;  choke  all  corridors,  thunder  at  all  gates. 
Deputies,  putting  forth  head,  obtest,  conjure ;  Saint- Antoine 
rages,  “  Bread  and  Constitution.”  Report  has  risen  that  the 
“  Convention  is  assassinating  the  women  :  ”  crushing  and 
rushing,  clangor  and  furor !  The  oak  doors  have  become  as 
oak  tambourines,  sounding  under  the  axe  of  Saint- Antoine ; 
plaster-work  crackles,  wood-work  booms  and  jingles ;  door 
starts  up ;  —  bursts  in  Saint- Antoine  with  frenzy  and  vocifera¬ 
tion,  with  Bag-standards,  printed  Proclamation,  drum-music  : 
astonishment  to  eye  and  ear.  Gendarmes,  loyal  Sectioners 
charge  through  the  other  door  ;  they  are  recharged  ;  musketry 
exploding  :  Saint- Antoine  cannot  be  expelled.  Obtesting  Dep¬ 
uties  obtest  vainly  :  Respect  the  President ;  approach  not  the 
President !  Deputy  Feraud,  stretching  out  his  hands,  baring 
his  bosom  scarred  in  the  Spanish  wars,  obtests  vainly ;  threat¬ 
ens  and  resists  vainly.  Rebellious  Deputy  of  the  Sovereign, 
if  thou  have  fought,  have  not  we  too  ?  We  have  no  Bread,  no 
Constitution !  They  wrench  poor  Feraud ;  they  tumble  him, 
trample  him,  wrath  waxing  to  see  itself  work :  they  drag  him 
into  the  corridor,  dead  or  near  it ;  sever  his  head,  and  fix  it  on 
a  pike.  Ah,  did  an  unexampled  Convention  want  this  variety 
of  destiny,  too,  then  ?  Feraud’s  bloody  head  goes  on  a  pike. 
Such  a  game  has  begun ;  Paris  and  the  Earth  may  wait  how 
it  will  end. 

And  so  it  billows  free  through  all  Corridors  ;  within  and 
without,  far  as  the  eye  reaches,  nothing  but  Bedlam,  and 
the  great  Deep  broken  loose  !  President  Boissy  d’Anglas  sits 
like  a  rock  :  the  rest  of  the  Convention  is  floated  “  to  the 
upper  benches ;  ”  Sectioners  and  Gendarmes  still  ranking 


Chap.  V.  LION  SPRAWLING  ITS  LAST.  447 

Frail*.  1]  May  20. 

there  to  form  a  kind  of  wall  for  them.  And  Insurrection 
rages ;  rolls  its  drums ;  will  read  its  Paper  of  Grievances, 
will  have  this  decreed,  will  have  that.  Covered  sits  Presi¬ 
dent  Boissy ;  unyielding ;  like  a  rock  in  the  beating  of  seas. 
They  menace  him,  level  muskets  at  him,  he  yields  not ;  they 
hold  up  Feraud’s  bloody  head  to  him,  with  grave  stern  air 
he  bows  to  it,  and  yields  not. 

And  the  Paper  of  Grievances  cannot  get  itself  read  for 
uproar  :  and  the  drums  roll,  and  the  throats  bawl ;  and  In¬ 
surrection,  like  sphere-music,  is  inaudible  for  very  noise : 
Decree  us  this,  Decree  us  that.  One  man  we  discern  bawl¬ 
ing  “  for  the  space  of  an  hour  at  all  intervals,”  “  Je  demande 
Varrestation  des  coquins  et  des  laches .”  Really  one  of  the  most 
comprehensive  Petitions  ever  put  up ;  which  indeed,  to  this 
hour,  includes  all  that  you  can  reasonably  ask  Constitution  of 
the  Year  One,  Rotten-Borough,  Ballot-Box,  or  other  miracu¬ 
lous  Political  Ark  of  the  Covenant  to  do  for  you  to  the  end 
of  the  world !  I  also  demand  arrestment  of  the  Knaves  and 
Dastards ,  and  nothing  more  whatever.  —  National  Represen¬ 
tation,  deluged  with  black  Sansculottism,  glides  out ;  for  help 
elsewhere,  for  safety  elsewhere ;  here  is  no  help. 

About  four  in  the  afternoon,  there  remain  hardly  more  than 
some  Sixty  Members  :  mere  friends,  or  even  secret  leaders  ; 
a  remnant  of  the  Mountain-crest,  held  in  silence  by  Tliermi- 
dorian  thraldom.  Now  is  the  time  for  them ;  now  or  never 
let  them  descend,  and  speak !  They  descend,  these  Sixty, 
invited  by  Sansculottism :  Romme  of  the  New  Calendar,  Ruhl 
of  the  Sacred  Phial,  Goujon,  Duquesnoy,  Soubrany,  and  the 
rest.  Glad  Sansculottism  forms  a  ring  for  them ;  Romme 
takes  the  President’s  chair ;  they  begin  resolving  and  decree¬ 
ing.  Fast  enough  now  comes  Decree  after  Decree,  in  alternate 
brief  strains,  or  strophe  and  antistrophe,  —  what  will  cheapen 
bread,  what  will  awaken  the  dormant  lion.  And  at  every  new 
decree,  Sansculottism  shouts  “  Decreed,  decreed  !  ”  and  rolls  its 
drums. 

Fast  enough  ;  the  work  of  months  in  hours,  —  when  see,  a 
Figure  enters,  whom  in  the  lamplight  we  recognize  to  be 
Legendre  ;  and  utters  words  :  fit  to  be  hissed  out !  And  then 


448  VENDEMIAIRE.  Hook  XX. 

1795  [Year  3. 

see,  Section  Lepelletier  or  other  Muscadin  Section  enters,  and 
Gilt  Youth,  with  levelled  bayonets,  countenances  screwed  to  the 
sticking-place  !  Tramp,  tramp,  with  bayonets  gleaming  in  the 
lamplight :  what  can  one  do,  worn  down  with  long  riot,  grown 
heartless,  dark,  hungry,  but  roll  back,  but  rush  back,  and 
escape  who  can  ?  The  very  windows  need  to  be  thrown  up, 
that  Sansculottism  may  escape  fast  enough.  Money-changer 
Sections  and  Gilt  Youth  sweep  them  forth,  with  steel  besom, 
far  into  the  depths  of  Saint-Antoine.  Triumph  once  more  ! 
The  Decrees  of  that  Sixty  are  not  so  much  as  rescinded ;  they 
are  declared  null  and  non-extant:  Bomme,  Buhl,  Goujon  and 
the  ringleaders,  some  thirteen  in  all,  are  decreed  Accused. 
Permanent-session  ends  at  three  in  the  morning.1  Sansculot¬ 
tism,  once  more  flung  resupine,  lies  sprawling ;  sprawling  its 
last. 

Such  was  the  Pirst  of  Prairial,  20th  of  May,  1795.  Second 
and  Third  of  Prairial,  during  which  Sansculottism  still 
sprawled,  and  unexpectedly  rang  its  tocsin,  and  assembled 
in  arms,  availed  Sansculottism  nothing.  What  though  with 
our  Eommes  and  Buhls,  accused  but  not  yet  arrested,  we  make 
a  new  “  True  National  Convention  ”  of  our  own,  over  in  the 
East ;  and  put  the  others  Out  of  Law  ?  What  though  we 
rank  in  arms  and  march  ?  Armed  Force  and  Muscadin 
Sections,  some  thirty  thousand  men,  environ  that  old  False 
Convention :  we  can  but  bully  one  another ;  bandying  nick¬ 
names,  “ Muscadins”  against  “ Blood-drinkers,  Buveurs  de 
Sang.”  Feraud’s  Assassin,  taken  with  the  red  hand,  and  sen¬ 
tenced,  and  now  near  to  Guillotine  and  Place  de  Greve,  is  re¬ 
taken  ;  is  carried  back  into  Saint-Antoine :  —  to  no  purpose. 
Convention  Sectionaries  and  Gilt  Youth  come,  according  to 
Decree,  to  seek  him  ;  nay  to  disarm  Saint-Antoine  !  And  they 
do  disarm  it :  by  rolling  of  cannon,  by  springing  upon  enemy’s 
cannon  ;  by  military  audacity,  and  terror  of  the  Law.  Saint- 
Antoine  surrenders  its  arms  ;  Santerre  even  advising  it,  anx¬ 
ious  for  life  and  brew-house.  Feraud’s  Assassin  flings  himself 
from  a  high  roof :  and  all  is  lost.2 

1  Drux  Amis ,  xiii.  129-146. 

2  Toulongeon,  v.  297  ;  Moniteur,  Nos.  244,  245,  246. 


Chap.  VI.  GRILLED  HERRINGS.  449 

Year  3]  1795. 

Discerning  which  things,  old  Ruhl  shot  a  pistol  through  his 
old  white  head ;  dashed  his  life  in  pieces,  as  he  had  done  the 
Sacred  Phial  of  Rheims.  Rornme,  Goujon  and  the  others 
stand  ranked  before  a  swiftly  appointed,  swift  Military  Tribu¬ 
nal.  Hearing  the  sentence,  Goujon  drew  a  knife,  struck  it 
into  his  breast,  passed  it  to  his  neighbor  Rornme ;  and  fell 
dead.  Rornme  did  the  like ;  and  another  all  but  did  it ;  Ro¬ 
man-death  rushing  on  there,  as  in  electric  chain,  before  your 
Bailiffs  could  intervene  !  The  Guillotine  had  the  rest. 

They  were  the  Ultimi  Romanorum.  Billaud,  Collot  and 
Company  are  now  ordered  to  be  tried  for  life ;  but  are  found 
to  be  already  off,  shipped  for'  Sinamarri,  and  the  hot  mud  of 
Surinam.  There  let  Billaud  surround  himself  with  flocks  of 
tame  parrots;  Collot  take  the  yellow  fever,  and  drinking  a 
whole  bottle  of  brandy,  burn  up  his  entrails.1  Sansculottism 
sprawls  no  more.  The  dormant  lion  has  become  a  dead  one ; 
and  now,  as  we  see,  any  hoof  may  smite  him. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

GRILLED  HERRINGS. 

V  „  * 

So  dies  Sansculottism,  the  body  of  Sansculottism  ;  or  is 
changed.  Its  ragged  Pythian  Carmagnole-dance  has  trans¬ 
formed  itself  into  a  Pyrrhic,  into  a  dance  of  Cabarus  Balls. 
Sansculottism  is  dead  ;  extinguished  by  new  isms  of  that  kind, 
which  were  its  own  natural  progeny ;  and  is  buried,  we  may 
say,  with  such  deafening  jubilation  and  disharmony  of  funeral- 
knell  on  their  part,  that  only  after  some  half-century  or  so 
does  one  begin  to  learn  clearly  why  it  ever  was  alive. 

And  yet  a  meaning  lay  in  it :  Sansculottism  verily  was  alive, 
a  New-Birth  of  Time  ;  nay  it  still  lives,  and  is  not  dead  but 
changed.  The  soul  of  it  still  lives ;  still  works  far  and  wide, 
through  one  bodily  shape  into  another  less  amorphous,  as  is 
the  way  of  cunning  Time  with  his  New-Births :  —  till,  in  some 

1  Dictionnaire  des  Hommes  Mcirquans,  §§  Billaud,  Collot. 

vol.  iv.  29 


450  VENDEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  3. 

perfected  shape,  it  embrace  the  whole  circuit  of  the  world! 
For  the  wise  man  may  now  everywhere  discern  that  he  must 
found  on  his  manhood,  not  on  the  garnitures  of  his  manhood. 
He  who,  in  these  Epochs  of  our  Europe,  founds  on  garnitures, 
formulas,  culottisms  of  what  sort  soever,  is  founding  on  old 
cloth  and  sheepskin,  and  cannot  endure.  But  as  for  the  body 
of  Sansculottism,  that  is  dead  and  buried,  —  and,  one  hopes, 
need  not  reappear,  in  primary  amorphous  shape,  for  another 
thousand  years. 

It  was  the  frightfulest  thing  ever  born  of  Time  ?  One  of 
the  frightfulest.  This  Convention,  now  grown  Anti-Jacobin, 
did,  with  an  eye  to  justify  and  fortify  itself,  publish  Lists  of 
what  the  Reign  of  Terror  had  perpetrated :  Lists  of  Persons 
Guillotined.  The  Lists,  cries  splenetic  Abbe  Montgaillard, 
were  not  complete.  They  contain  the  names  of,  How  many 
persons  thinks  the  Reader  ?  — ■  Two  thousand  all  but  a  few. 
There  were  above  four  thousand,  cries  Montgaillard :  so  many 
were  guillotined,  fusilladed,  noyaded,  done  to  dire  death;  of 
wrhom  nine  hundred  were  women.1  It  is  a  horrible  sum  of 
human  lives,  M.  V Abbe  :  —  some  ten  times  *  as  many  shot 
rightly  on  a  field  of  battle,  and  one  might  have  had  his 
Glorious-Victory  with  Te-Deum.  It  is  not  far  from  the  two- 
hundredth  part  of  what  perished  in  the  entire  Seven-Years 
War.  By  which  Seven-Years  War,  did  not  the  great  Fritz 
wrench  Silesia  from  the  great  Theresa ;  and  a  Pompadour, 
stung  by  epigrams,  satisfy  herself  that  she  could  not  be  an 
Agnes  Sorel  ?  The  head  of  man  is  a  strange  vacant  sound¬ 
ing-shell,  M.  PAbbe ;  and  studies  Cocker  to  small  purpose. 

But  what  if  History  somewhere  on  this  Planet  were  to  hear 
of  a  Nation,  the  third  soul  of  whom  had  not,  for  thirty  weeks 
each  year,  as  many  third-rate  potatoes  as  would  sustain  him  ?  2 
History,  in  that  case,  feels  bound  to  consider  that  starvation 
is  starvation  ;  that  starvation  from  age  to  age  presupposes 
much ;  History  ventures  to  assert  that  the  French  Sansculotte 
of  Ninety-three,  who,  roused  from  long  death-sleep,  could  rush 
at  once  to  the  frontiers,  and  die  fighting  for  an  immortal  Hope 

1  Montgaillard,  iv.  241. 

2  Report  of  the  Irish  Poor-Law  Commission,  1836. 


Chap.  VI.  GRILLED  HERRINGS.  451 

Year  3]  1795. 

and  Faith  of  Deliverance  for  him  and  his,  was  but  the  second- 
miserablest  of  men !  The  Irish  sans-potato,  had  he  not  senses, 
then,  nay  a  soul  ?  In  his  frozen  darkness,  it  was  bitter  for 
him  to  die  famishing ;  bitter  to  see  his  children  famish.  It 
was  bitter  for  him  to  be  a  beggar,  a  liar  and  a  knave.  Nay,  if 
that  dreary  Greenland-wind  of  benighted  Want,  perennial  from 
sire  to  son,  had  frozen  him  into  a  kind  of  torpor  and  numb 
callosity,  so  that  he  saw  not,  felt  not,  —  was  this,  for  a  crea¬ 
ture  with  a  soul  in  it,  some  assuagement  ;  or  the  crudest 
wretchedness  of  all  ? 

Such  things  were  ;  such  things  are  ;  and  they  go  on  in 
silence  peaceably  :  —  and  Sansculottisms  follow  them.  His¬ 
tory,  looking  back  over  this  France  through  long  times,  back 
to  Turgot’s  time  for  instance,  when  dumb  Drudgery  staggered 
up  to  its  King’s  Palace,  and  in  wide  expanse  of  sallow  faces, 
squalor  and  winged  raggedness,  presented  hieroglyphically  its 
Petition  of  Grievances  ;  and  for  answer  got  hanged  on  a 
a  new  gallows  forty  feet  high,”  —  confesses  mournfully  that 
there  is  no  period  to  be  met  with,  in  which  the  general 
Twenty-five  Millions  of  France  suffered  less  than  in  this 
period  which  they  name  Reign  of  Terror !  But  it  was  not  the 
Dumb  Millions  that  suffered  here  ;  it  was  the  Speaking  Thou¬ 
sands,  and  Hundreds,  and  Units ;  who  shrieked  and  published, 
and  made  the  world  ring  with  their  wail,  as  they  could  and 
should :  that  is  the  grand  peculiarity.  The  frightfulest  Births 
of  Time  are  never  the  loud-speaking  ones,  for  these  soon  die  ; 
they  are  the  silent  ones,  which  can  live  from  century  to  cen¬ 
tury  !  Anarchy,  hateful  as  Death,  is  abhorrent  to  the  whole 
nature  of  man ;  and  so  must  itself  soon  die. 

Wherefore  let  all  men  know  what  of  depth  and  of  height  is 
still  revealed  in  man ;  and  with  fear  and  wonder,  with  just 
sympathy  and  just  antipathy,  with  clear  eye  and  open  heart, 
contemplate  it  and  appropriate  it  ;  and  draw  innumerable 
inferences  from  it.  This  inference,  for  example,  among  the 
first :  That  <e  if  the  gods  of  this  lower  world  will  sit  on  their 
glittering  thrones,  indolent  as  Epicurus’  gods,  with  the  living 
Chaos  of  Ignorance  and  Hunger  weltering  uncared  for  at  their 
feet,  and  smooth  Parasites  preaching,  Peace,  peace,  when  there 


452  VENDEMIAIKE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  3. 

is  no  peace,”  then  the  dark  Chaos,  it  would  seem,  will  rise  ;  — 
has  risen,  and,  0  Heavens,  has  it  not  tanned  their  skins  into 
breeches  for  itself  ?  That  there  he  no  second  Sansculottism 
in  our  Earth  for  a  thousand,  years,  let  us  understand  well 
what  the  first  was ;  and  let  Rich  and  Poor  of  us  go  and  do 
otherwise . — But  to  our  tale. 

The  Muscadin  Sections  greatly  rejoice  ;  Cabarus  Balls 
gyrate  :  the  well-nigh  insoluble  problem,  Republic  without 
Anarchy ,  have  not  we  solved  it  ?  —  Law  of  Eraternity  or 
Death  is  gone  :  chimerical  Obtain-who-need  has  become  prac¬ 
tical  Hold-who-have.  To  anarchic  Republic  of  the  Poverties 
there  has  succeeded  orderly  Republic  of  the  Luxuries ;  which 
will  continue  as  long  as  it  can. 

On  the  Pont  au  Change,  on  the  Place  de  G-reve,  in  long 
sheds,  Mercier,  in  these  summer  evenings,  saw  working-men 
at  their  repast.  One’s  allotment  of  daily  bread  has  sunk  to 
an  ounce  and  a  half.  “  Plates  containing  each  three  grilled 
herrings,  sprinkled  with  shorn  onions,  wetted  with  a  little 
vinegar  ;  to  this  add  some  morsel  of  boiled  prunes,  and  lentils 
swimming  in  a  clear  sauce :  at  these  frugal  tables,  the  cook’s 
gridiron  hissing  near  by,  and  the  pot  simmering  on  a  fire 
between  two  stones,  I  have  seen  them  ranged  by  the  hundred ; 
consuming,  without  bread,  their  scant  messes,  far  too  moderate 
for  the  keenness  of  their  appetite  and  the  extent  of  their 
stomach.” 1  Seine  water,  rushing  plenteous  by,  will  supply 
the  deficiency. 

0  Man  of  Toil,  thy  struggling  and  thy  dating,  these  six 
long  years  of  insurrection  and  tribulation,  thou  hast  profited 
nothing  by  it,  then  ?  Thou  consumest  thy  herring  and  water, 
in  the  blessed  gold-red  evening.  Oh  why  was  the  Earth  so 
beautiful,  becrimsoned  with  dawn  and  twilight,  if  man’s  deal¬ 
ings  with  man  were  to  make  it  a  vale  of  scarcity,  of  tears, 
not  even  soft  tears  ?  Destroying  of  Bastilles,  discomfiting  of 
Brunswicks,  fronting  of  Principalities  and  Powers,  of  Earth 
and  Tophet,  all  that  thou  hast  dared  and  endured,  —  it  was 
for  a  Republic  of  the  Cabarus  Saloons  ?  Patience ;  thou  must 
have  patience  :  the  end  is  not  yet. 

1  Nouveau  Paris,  iv.  118. 


Chap.  VII. 
Year  3]  1795. 


THE  WHIFF  OF  GRAPE-SHOT. 


458 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  WHIFF  OF  GRAPE-SHOT. 

0 

In  fact,  what  can  be  more  natural,  one  may  say  inevitable, 
as  a  Post-Sansculottic  transitionary  state,  than  even  this  ? 
Confused  wreck  of  a  Republic  of  the  Poverties,  which  ended 
in  Reign  of  Terror,  is  arranging  itself  into  such  composure  as 
it  can.  Evangel  of  Jean- Jacques,  and  most  other  Evangels, 
becoming  incredible,  what  is  there  for  it  but  return  to  the  old 
Evangel  of  Mammon  ?  Contr at- Social  is  true  or  untrue,  Broth¬ 
erhood  is  Brotherhood  or  Death ;  but  money  always  will  buy 
money’s  worth :  in  the  wreck  of  human  dubitations,  this  re¬ 
mains  indubitable,  that  Pleasure  is  pleasant.  Aristocracy  of 
Feudal  Parchment  has  passed  away  with  a  mighty  rushing ; 
and  now,  by  a  natural  course,  we  arrive  at  Aristocracy  of  the 
Money-bag.  It  is  the  course  through  which  all  European 
Societies  are,  at  this  hour,  travelling.  Apparently  a  still  baser 
sort  of  Aristocracy  ?  An  infinitely  baser ;  the  basest  yet 
known. 

In  which,  however,  there  is  this  advantage,  that,  like  An¬ 
archy  itself,  it  cannot  continue.  Hast  thou  considered  how 
Thought  is  stronger  than  Artillery-parks,  and  (were  it  fifty 
years  after  death  and  martyrdom,  or  were  it  two  thousand 
years)  writes  and  unwrites  Acts  of  Parliament,  removes  moun¬ 
tains  ;  models  the  World  like  soft  clay  ?  Also  how  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  all  Thought,  worth  the  name,  is  Love ;  and  the  wise 
head  never  yet  was,  without  first  the  generous  heart  ?  The 
Heavens  cease  not  their  bounty  ;  they  send  us  generous  hearts 
into  every  generation.  And  now  what  generous  heart  can 
pretend  to  itself,  or  be  hoodwinked  into  believing,  that  Loyalty 
to  the  Money-bag  is  a  noble  Loyalty  ?  Mammon,  cries  the 
generous  heart  out  of  all  ages  and  countries,  is  the  basest  of 
known  Gods,  even  of  known  Devils.  In  him  what  glory  is 


454  VENDEM1AIRE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  3. 

there,  that  ye  should  worship  him  ?  No  glory  discernible ; 
not  even  terror :  at  best,  detestability,  ill-matched  with  des- 
picability  !  —  Generous  hearts,  discerning,  on  this  hand,  wide¬ 
spread  Wretchedness,  dark  without  and  within,  moistening  its 
ounce-and-half  of  bread  with  tears  ;  and,  on  that  hand,  mere 
Balls  in  flesh-colored  drawers,  and  inane  or  foul  glitter  of  such 
sort,  —  cannot  but  ejaculate,  cannot  but  announce:  Too  much, 
0  divine  Mammon  ;  somewhat  too  much  !  — .The  voice  of 
these,  once  announcing  itself,  carries  fiat  and  pereat  in  it,  for 
all  things  here  below. 

Meanwhile  we  will  hate  Anarchy  as  Death,  which  it  is ;  and 
the  things  worse  than  Anarchy  shall  be  hated  more.  Surely 
Peace  alone  is  fruitful.  Anarchy  is  destruction;  a  burning 
up,  say,  of  Shams  and  Insupportabilities  ;  but  which  leaves 
Vacancy  behind.  Know  this  also,  that  out  of  a  world  of  Un¬ 
wise  nothing  but  an  Unwisdom  can  be  made.  Arrange  it,  con¬ 
stitution-build  it,  sift  it  through  ballot-boxes  as  thou  wilt,  it 
is  and  remains  an  Unwisdom,  —  the  new  prey  of  new  quacks 
and  unclean  things,  the  latter  end  of  it  slightly  better  than 
the  beginning.  Who  can  bring  a  wise  thing  out  of  men 
unwise  ?  Not  one.  And  so  Vacancy  and  general  Abolition 
having  come  for  this  France,  what  can  Anarchy  do  more  ?  Let 
there  be  Order,  were  it  under  the  Soldier’s  Sword;  let  there 
be  Peace,  that  the  bounty  of  the  Heavens  be  not  spilt;  that 
what  of  Wisdom  they  do  send  us  bring  fruit  in  its  season !  — 
It  remains  to  be  seen  how  the  quellers  of  Sansculottism  were 
themselves  quelled,  and  sacred  right  of  Insurrection  was  blown 
away  by  gunpowder;  wherewith  this  singular  eventful  His¬ 
tory  called  French  Revolution  ends. 

The  Convention,  driven  such  a  course  by  wild  wind,  wild 
tide,  and  steerage  and  non-steerage,  these  three  years,  has  be¬ 
come  weary  of  its  own  existence,  sees  all  men  weary  of  it ;  and 
wishes  heartily  to  finish.  To  the  last  it  has  to  strive  with  con¬ 
tradictions  :  it  is  now  getting  fast  ready  with  a  Constitution, 
yet  knows  no  peace.  Sieyes,  we  say,  is  making  the  Constitu¬ 
tion  once  more ;  has  as  good  as  made  it.  Warned  by  experi¬ 
ence,  the  great  Architect  alters  much,  admits  much.  Distinction 


Chap.  VII.  THE  WHIFF 

Year  3]  1795. 

of  Active  and  Passive  Citizen,  that  is,  Money-qualification 
for  Electors  :  nay  Two  Chambers,  “  Council  of  Ancients,”  as 
well  as  “  Council  of  Five  Hundred ;  ”  to  that  conclusion  have 
we  come  !  In  a  like  spirit,  eschewing  that  fatal  self-denying 
ordinance  of  your  Old  Constituents,  we  enact  not  only  that 
actual  Convention  Members  are  re-eligible,  but  that  Two-thirds 
of  them  must  be  re-elected.  The  Active  Citizen  Electors  shall 
for  this  time  have  free  choice  of  only  One-third  of  their 
National  Assembly.  Such  enactment,  of  Two-thirds  to  be 
re-elected,  we  append  to  our  Constitution;  we  submit  our 
Constitution  to  the  Townships  of  France,  and  say,  Accept 
both ,  or  reject  both.  Unsavory  as  this  appendix  may  be,  the 
Townships,  by  overwhelming  majority,  accept  and  ratify. 
With  Directory  of  Five ;  with  Two  good  Chambers,  double¬ 
majority  of  them  nominated  by  ourselves,  one  hopes  this  Con¬ 
stitution  may  prove  final.  March  it  will ;  for  the  legs  of  it, 
the  re-elected  Two-thirds,  are  already  here,  able  to  march. 
Sieyes  looks  at  his  paper-fabric  with  just  pride. 

But  now  see  how  the  contumacious  Sections,  Lepelletier 
foremost,  kick  against  the  pricks.  Is  it  not  manifest  infraction 
of  one’s  Elective  Franchise,  Rights  of  Man,  and  Sovereignty 
of  the  People,  this  appendix  of  re-electing  your  Two-thirds  ? 
Greedy  tyrants,  who  would  perpetuate  yourselves  !  —  For  the 
truth  is,  victory  over  Saint-Antoine,  and  long  right  of  Insur¬ 
rection,  has  spoiled  these  men.  Nay  spoiled  all  men.  Con¬ 
sider,  too,  how  each  man  was  free  to  hope  what  he  liked ;  and 
now  there  is  to  be  no  hope,  there  is  to  be  fruition,  fruition 
of  this. 

In  men  spoiled  by  long  right  of  Insurrection,  what  confused 
ferments  will  rise,  tongues  once  begun  wagging  !  Journalists 
declaim,  your  Lacretelles,  Laharpes  ;  Orators  spout.  There  is 
Royalism  traceable  in  it,  and  Jacobinism.  On  the  West  Fron¬ 
tier,  in  deep  secrecy,  Pichegru,  durst  he  trust  his  Army,  is 
treating  with  Conde :  in  these  Sections,  there  spout  wolves 
in  sheep’s  clothing,  masked  Emigrants  and  Royalists.1  All 
men,  as  we  say,  had  hoped,  each  that  the  Election  would  do 
something  for  his  own  side :  and  now  there  is  no  Election,  or 
1  Napoleon,  Las  Cases  ( Choix  des  Rapports,  xvii.  398-411). 


mmJl  or 

OF .  GRAPE-£>HOT. 


m 


455 


UiAiiinj  •  .  ■  -t 

DEMIAIRE.  Book  XX. 

1795  [Year  4. 

only  the  third  of  one.  Black  is  united  with  white  against  this  - 
clause  of  the  Two-thirds  ;  all  the  Unruly  of  France,  who  see 
their  trade  thereby  near  ending. 

Section  Lepelletier,  after  Addresses  enough,  finds  that  such 
clause  is  a  manifest  infraction  ;  that  it,  Lepelletier  for  one, 
will  simply  not  conform  thereto  ;  and  invites  all  other  free 
Sections  to  join  it,  “  in  central  Committee,”  in  resistance  to 
oppression.1  The  Sections  join  it,  nearly  all ;  strong  with  their 
Forty  Thousand  fighting  men.  The  Convention  therefore  may 
look  to  itself !  Lepelletier,  on  this  12th  day  of  Vendemiaire, 
4th  of  October,  1795,  is  sitting  in  open  contravention,  in  its 
Convent  of  Filles-Saint-Thomas,  Bue  Vivienne,  with  guns 
primed.  The  Convention  has  some  Five  Thousand  regular 
troops  at  hand ;  Generals  in  abundance ;  and  a  Fifteen  Hun¬ 
dred  of  miscellaneous  persecuted  Ultra- Jacobins,  whom  in  this 
crisis  it  has  hastily  got  together  and  armed,  under  the  title  of 
Patriots  of  Eiglity-nine.  Strong  in  Law,  it  sends  its  General 
Menou  to  disarm  Lepelletier. 

General  Menou  marches  accordingly,  with  due  summons 
and  demonstration ;  with  no  result.  General  Menou,  about 
eight  in  the  evening,  finds  that  he  is  standing  ranked  in  the 
Hue  Vivienne,  emitting  vain  summonses ;  with  primed  guns 
pointed  out  of  every  window  at  him;  and  that  he  cannot 
disarm  Lepelletier.  He  has  to  return,  with  whole  skin,  but 
without  success;  and  be  thrown  into  arrest,  as  “a  traitor.” 
Whereupon  the  whole  Forty  Thousand  join  this  Lepelletier 
which  cannot  be  vanquished :  to  what  hand  shall  a  quaking 
Convention  now  turn  ?  Our  poor  Convention,  after  such 
voyaging,  just  entering  harbor,  so  to  speak,  has  struck  on 
the  bar  ;  —  and  labors  there  frightfully,  with  breakers  roaring 
round  it,  Forty  Thousand  of  them,  like  to  wash  it,  and  its 
Sieyes  Cargo  and  the  whole  future  of  France,  into  the  deep ! 
Yet  one  last  time,  it  struggles,  ready  to  perish. 

Some  call  for  Barras  to  be  made  Commandant ;  he  conquered 
in  Thermidor.  Some,  what  is  more  to  the  purpose,  bethink 
them  of  the  Citizen  Buonaparte,  unemployed  Artillery-Officer, 
who  took  Toulon.  A  man  of  head,  a  man  of  action :  Barras 

1  Deux  Amis,  xiii.  375-406. 


THE  WHIFF  OF  GEAI 


i,vk-i 


„jr  ii 

HOT. 


457 


Chap.  VII. 

Vend.  13]  Oct.  5. 

is  named  Commandant’s-Cloak ;  this  young  Artillery-Officer  is 
named  Commandant.  He  was  in  the  Gallery  at  the  moment, 
and  heard  it;  he  withdrew,  some  half-hour,  to  consider  with 
himself :  after  a  half-hour  of  grim  compressed  considering,  to 
be  or  not  to  be,  he  answers  Yea. 

And  now,  a  man  of  head  being  at  the  centre  of  it,  the  whole 
matter  gets  vital.  Swift,  to  Camp  of  Sablons ;  to  secure  the 
Artillery,  there  are  not  twenty  men  guarding  it !  A  swift 
Adjutant,  Murat  is  the  name  of  him,  gallops ;  gets  thither 
some  minutes  within  time,  for  Lepelletier  was  also  on  march 
that  way:  the  Cannon  are  ours.  And  now  beset  this  post, 
and  beset  that ;  rapid  and  firm  :  at  Wicket  of  the  Louvre,  in 
Cul-de-sac  Dauphin,  in  Eue  Saint-Honore,  from  Pont-Neuf  all 
along  the  north  Quais,  southward  to  Pont  ci-devant  Poyal,  — 
rank  round  the  Sanctuary  of  the  Tuileries,  a  ring  of  steel  dis¬ 
cipline  ;  let  every  gunner  have  his  match  burning,  and  all  men 
stand  to  their  arms  ! 

Thus  there  is  Permanent-session  through  the  night ;  and 
thus  at  sunrise  of  the  morrow,  there  is  seen  sacred  Insurrec¬ 
tion  once  again  :  vessel  of  State  laboring  on  the  bar ;  and 
tumultuous  sea  all  round  her,  beating  generale,  arming  and 
sounding,  —  not  ringing  tocsin,  for  we  have  left  no  tocsin 
but  our  own  in  the  Pavilion  of  Unity.  It  is  an  imminence  of 
shipwreck,  for  the.  whole  world  to  gaze  at.  Frightfully  she 
labors,  that  poor  ship,  within  cable-length  of  port ;  huge 
peril  for  her.  However,  she  has  a  man  at  the  helm.  In¬ 
surgent  messages,  received  and  not  received ;  messenger 
admitted  blindfolded ;  counsel  and  counter-counsel :  the  poor 
ship  labors!. —  Vendemiaire  13th,  year  4:  curious  enough,  of 
all  days,  it  is  the  fifth  day  of  October,  anniversary  of  that 
Menad-march,  six  years  ago ;  by  sacred  right  of  Insurrection 
we  are  got  thus  far. 

Lepelletier  has  seized  the  Church  of  Saint-Eoch ;  has  seized 
the  Pont-Ueuf,  our  piquet  there  retreating  without  fire.  Stray 
shots  fall  from  Lepelletier ;  rattle  down  on  the  very  Tuileries 
Staircase.  On  the  other  hand,  women  advance  dishevelled, 
shrieking,  Peace;  Lepelletier  behind  them  waving  its  hat  in 
sign  that  we  shall  fraternize.  Steady  !  The  Artillery-Officer 


Book  XX. 
1795  [Year  4. 

Ill- 

is  steady  as  bronze ;  can,  if  need  were,  be  quick  as  lightning. 
He  sends  eight  hundred  muskets  with  ball-cartridges  to  the 
Convention  itself;  honorable  Members  shall  act  with  these 
in  case  of  extremity :  whereat  they  look  grave  enough.  Four 
of  the  afternoon  is  struck.1  Lepelletier,  making  nothing  by 
messengers,  by  fraternity  or  hat-waving,  bursts  out,  along  the 
Southern  Quai  Voltaire,  along  streets  and  passages,  treble¬ 
quick,  in  huge  veritable  onslaught !  Whereupon,  thou  bronze 
Artillery-Officer  —  ?  “Fire!”  say  the  bronze  lips.  And  roar 
and  thunder,  roar  and  again  roar,  continual,  volcano-like,  goes 
his  great  gun,  in  the  Cul-de-sac  Dauphin  against  the  Church 
of  Saint-Roch;  go  his  great  guns  on  the  Pont-Royal;  go  all 
his  great  guns ;  —  blow  to  air  some  two  hundred  men,  mainly 
about  the  Church  of  Saint-Roch !  Lepelletier  cannot  stand 
such  horse-play ;  no  Sectioner  can  stand  it ;  the  Forty  Thousand 
yield  on  all  sides,  scour  towards  covert.  “  Some  hundred  or  so 
of  them  gathered  about  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique ;  but,” 
says  he,  “a  few  shells  dislodged  them.  It  was  all  finished 
at  six.” 

The  Ship  is  over  the  bar,  then ;  free  she  bounds  shore¬ 
ward,  —  amid  shouting  and  vivats !  Citoyen  Buonaparte  is 
“  named  General  of  the  Interior,  by  acclamation ;  ”  quelled 
Sections  have  to  disarm  in  such  humor  as  they  may ;  sacred 
right  of  Insurrection  is  gone  forever !  The  Sieyes  Constitu¬ 
tion  can  disembark  itself,  and  begin  marching.  The  miracu¬ 
lous  Convention  Ship  has  got  to  land;  —  and  is  there,  shall 
we  figuratively  say,  changed,  as  Epic  Ships  are  wont,  into  a 
kind  of  Sea  Nymph ,  never  to  sail  more ;  to  roam  the  waste 
Azure,  a  Miracle  in  History ! 

“It  is  false,”  says  Napoleon,  “that  we  fired  first  with  blank 
charge  ;  it  had  been  a  waste  of  life  to  do  that.”  Most  false : 
the  firing  was  with  sharp  and  sharpest  shot :  to  all  men  it 
was  plain  that  here  was  no  sport :  the  rabbets  and  plinths 
of  Saint-Roch  Church  show  splintered  by  it  to  this  hour.  — 
Singular :  in  old  Broglie’s  time,  six  years  ago,  this  Whiff  of 
Grape-shot  was  promised ;  but  it  could  not  be  given  then ; 
could  not  have  profited  then.  Now,  however,  the  time  is 

1  Moniteur,  Seance  du  5  Octobre,  1795. 


■•OYUfi:  VE> 


NDEMIAIRE. 


/  '  /  1:  V 


Chap.  VIII. 

Vend.  13 J  Oct.  5. 

come  for  it,  and  the  man ;  and  behold,  you  have  it ;  and  the 
thing  we  specifically  call  French  Revolution  is  blown  into 
space  by  it,  and  become  a  thing  that  was !  — 

- ♦ - 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

FINIS. 

Homer’s  Epos,  it  is  remarked,  is  like  a  Bas-Relief  sculpture : 
it  does  not  conclude,  but  merely  ceases.  Such,  indeed,  is  the 
Epos  of  Universal  History  itself.  Directorates,  Consulates, 
Emperorships,  Restorations,  Citizen-Kingships  succeed  this 
Business  in  due  series,  in  due  genesis  one  out  of  the  other. 
Nevertheless  the  First-parent  of  all  these  may  be  said  to  have 
gone  to  air  in  the  way  we  see.  A  Baboeuf  Insurrection,  next 
year,  will  die  in  the  birth ;  stifled  by  the  Soldiery.  A  Senate, 
if  tinged  with  Royalism,  can  be  purged  by  the  Soldiery ;  and 
an  Eighteenth  of  Fructidor  transacted  by  the  mere  show  of 
bayonets.1  Nay  Soldiers’  bayonets  can  be  used  a  posteriori  on 
a  Senate,  and  make  it  leap  out  of  window,  —  still  bloodless ; 
and  produce  an  Eighteenth  of  Brumaire.2 *  Such  changes  must 
happen :  but  they  are  managed  by  intriguings,  caballings,  and 
then  by  orderly  word  of  command ;  almost  like  mere  changes 
of  Ministry.  Not  in  general  by  sacred  right  of  Insurrection, 
but  by  milder  methods  growing  ever  milder,  shall  the  events 
of  French  History  be  henceforth  brought  to  pass. 

It  is  admitted  that  this  Directorate,  which  owned,  at  its. 
starting,  these  three  things,  an  “old  table*  a  sheet  of  paper, 
and  an  ink-bottle,”  and  no  visible  money  or  arrangement 
whatever,8  did  wonders :  that  France,  since  the  Reign  of 
Terror  hushed  itself,  has  been  a  new  France,  awakened  like 
a  giant  out  of  torpor ;  and  has  gone  on,  in  the  Internal  Life 
of  it,  with  continual  progress.  As  for  the  External  form  and 

1  Moniteur,  du  4  Septembre,  1797. 

2  9th  November,  1799  ( Choix  des  Rapports,  xvii.  1-96). 

8  Bailleul,  Examen  critique  des  Considerations  de  Madame  de  Stael,  ii.  275. 


finis,  ^nvonm  459 


Book  XX. 
1795  [Year  4. 

forms  of  Life,  what  can  we  say,  except  that  out  of  the  Eater 
there  comes  Strength ;  out  of  the  Unwise  there  comes  not 
Wisdom  !  —  Shams  are  burnt  up  ;  nay,  what  as  yet  is  the 
peculiarity  of  France,  the  very  Cant  of  them  is  burnt  up. 
The  new  Realities  are  not  yet  come :  ah  no,  only  Phan¬ 
tasms,  Paper  models,  tentative  Prefigurements  of  such !  In 
France  there  are  now  Four  Million  Landed  Properties;  that 
black  portent  of  an  Agrarian  Law  is,  as  it  were,  realized. 
What  is  still  stranger,  we  understand  all  Frenchmen  have 
“  the  right  of  duel ;  ”  the  Hackney-coachman  with  the  Peer,  if 
insult  be  given  :  such  is  the  law  of  Public  Opinion.  Equality 
at  least  in  death !  The  Form  of  Government  is  by  Citizen 
King,  frequently  shot  at,  not  yet  shot. 

On  the  whole,  therefore,  has  it  not  been  fulfilled  what  was 
prophesied,  ex  post  facto  indeed,  by  the  Arch-quack  Cagliostro, 
or  another  ?  He,  as  he  looked  in  rapt  vision  and  amazement . 
into  these  things,  thus  spake  : 1  “  Ha  !  What  is  this  ?  Angels, 
Uriel,  Anachiel,  and  ye  other  Five  ;  Pentagon  of  Rejuvenes¬ 
cence  ;  Power  that  destroyedst  Original  Sin ;  Earth,  Heaven, 
and  thou  Outer  Limbo,  which  men  name  Hell!  Hoes  the 
Empire  of  Imposture  waver  ?  Burst  there,  in  starry  sheen, 
updarting,  Light-rays  from  out  of  its  dark  foundations ;  as  it 
rocks  and  heaves,  not  in  travail-throes  but  in  death-throes  ? 
Yea,  Light-rays,  piercing,  clear,  that  salute  the  Heavens, — 
lo,  they  kindle  it ;  their  starry  clearness  becomes  as  red  Hell- 
fire  ! 

u  Imposture  is  in  flames,  Imposture  is  burnt  up  :  one  red 
sea  of  Fire,  wild-billowing,  enwraps  the  World  ;  with  its  fire- 
tongue  licks  at  the  very  Stars.  Thrones  are  hurled  into  it, 
and  Dubois  Mitres,  and  Prebendal  Stalls  that  drop  fatness, 
and  —  ha !  what  see  I  ?  —  all  the  Gigs  of  Creation :  all,  all ! 
Woe  is  me  !  Never  since  Pharaoh’s  Chariots,  in  the  Red  Sea 
of  water,  was  there  wreck  of  Wheel-vehicles  like  this  in  the 
Sea  of  Fire.  Desolate,  as  ashes,  as  gases,  shall  they  wander 
in  the  wind. 

u  Higher,  higher  yet  flames  the  Fire-Sea;  crackling  with 
1  Diamond  Necklace  (Carlyle’s  Miscellanies). 


460 


'{!'•;  I 


esIdemiaike. 


Chap.  VIII, 


riiNio.  tin 

Vend.  13]  Oct.  5. 

new  dislocated  timber ;  hissing  with  leather  and  prunella.  The 
metal  Images  are  molten ;  the  marble  Images  become  mortar- 
lime  ;  the  stone  Mountains  sulkily  explode.  Respectability, 
with  all  her  collected  Gigs  inflamed  for  funeral  pyre,  wailing, 
leaves  the  Earth :  not  to  return  save  under  new  Avatar.  Im¬ 
posture  how  it  burns,  through  generations :  how  it  is  burnt 
up;  for  a  time.  The  World  is  black  ashes; — which,  ah, 
when  will  they  grow  green  ?  The  Images  all  run  into  amor¬ 
phous  Corinthian  brass ;  all  Dwellings  of  men  destroyed ;  the 
very  mountains  peeled  and  riven,  the  valleys  black  and  dead : 
it  is  an  empty  World  !  Woe  to  them  that  shall  be  born  then  ! 
—  A  King,  a  Queen  (ah  me  !)  were  hurled  in ;  did  rustle  once ; 
flew  aloft,  crackling,  like  paper-scroll.  Iscariot  Egalite  was 
hurled  in ;  thou  grim  De  Launay,  with  thy  grim  Bastille ; 
whole  kindreds  and  peoples ;  five  millions  of  mutually  destroy¬ 
ing  Men.  For  it  is  the  End  of  the  dominion  of  Imposture 
(which  is  Darkness  and  opaque  Fire-damp) ;  and  the  burning 
up,  with  unquenchable  fire,  of  all  the  Gigs  that  are  in  the 
Earth.”  This  Prophecy,  we  say,  has  it  not  been  fulfilled,  is 
it  not  fulfilling  ? 

And  so  here,  0  Reader,  has  the  time  come  for  us  two  to 
part.  Toilsome  was  our  journeying  together ;  not  without 
offence  ;  but  it  is  done.  To  me  thou  wert  as  a  beloved  shade, 
the  disembodied  or  not  yet  embodied  spirit  of  a  Brother.  To 
thee  I  was  but  as  a  Voice.  Yet  was  our  relation  a  kind  of 
sacred  one ;  doubt  not  that !  For  whatsoever  once  sacred 
things  become  hollow  jargons,  yet  while  the  Voice  of  Man 
speaks  with  Man,  hast  thou  not  there  the  living  fountain  out 
of  which  all  sacrednesses  sprang,  and  will  yet  spring  ?  Man, 
by  the  nature  of  him,  is  definable  as  “an  incarnated  Word.” 
Ill  stands  it  with  me  if  I  have  spoken  falsely :  thine  also  it 
was  to  hear  truly.  Farewell. 


University  Press  :  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


